UN ignores Burma junta’s drugs role

A Thai policeman guards over a methamphetamine haul (Reuters)

By BERTIL LINTNER
Published: 28 June 2010

The UN’s annual day against drugs is usually celebrated with claims of great strides in the campaign to eradicate the worldwide production of narcotics and fanciful reports on how governments around the globe are successfully cooperating in this noble effort. This year, however, it seems that at least some realism has seeped into the largely fictitious picture of the situation in the drug-producing countries that the UN Office on Drugs and Crime (UNODC) usually presents to the outside world.

Burma’s drug production has surged over the past year, Gary Lewis, a representative of the UNODC, told reporters in Bangkok two days before the annual event. Burma, he said, had experienced a “steep and dramatic” increase in opium cultivation, with 31,700 hectares, or 78,300 acres, of land under poppy cultivation in 2009, up by almost half since 2006.

At the same time, the production of synthetic drugs such as methamphetamine in the Burmese sector of the Golden Triangle has increased equally dramatically. According to Thai military sources, between 300 and 400 million pills will be produced this year, or almost double the amount in 2009. The main market for all these drugs is Thailand, but significant quantities are also smuggled into China, Laos, Vietnam, Cambodia and India. Some Burmese heroin, but very little methamphetamine, can also be found in Australia and North America.

The reason for this surge, Lewis told reporters, is that ethnic armies which once fought the Burmese army and now have entered into ceasefire agreements with the government, are coming under pressure to convert themselves into Border Guard Forces under central command. Most drugs in Burma are produced in areas controlled by the United Wa State Army (UWSA) and its allies, some of whom are smaller groups which also once formed part of the now defunct Communist Party of Burma (CPB). The UWSA and its allies are preparing for war: “They are getting ready to fight. They are selling more and more drugs so they can buy weapons to fight the government,” the Guardian last week quoted Lewis as saying.

Statements such as these show that the UNODC may have changed its previous, glossy image of the UWSA and its allies — and so has the Burmese government. It is often forgotten that the first huge increase in Burma’s production of opium and its derivative heroin occurred after the collapse of the CPB in 1989. In the wake of the 1988 uprising in the Burmese heartland, and the subsequent massacres in the then capital Rangoon and elsewhere, more than 8,000 pro-democracy activists fled the urban centres for the border areas near Thailand, where a multitude of ethnic insurgencies not involved in the drug trade were active. Significantly, the main drug gang operating along the Thai border, Khun Sa and his private army, refused to shelter any dissidents; his main interest was business, not to fight the Burmese government.

The Burmese military now feared a renewed, politically dangerous insurgency along its frontiers: a possible alliance between the ethnic rebels and the pro-democracy activists from Rangoon and other towns and cities. But these Thai-border-based groups – Karen, Mon, Karenni, and Pa-O – were unable to provide the urban dissidents with more than a handful of weapons. None of the ethnic armies could match the strength of the CPB, which then fielded more than 15,000 soldiers and controlled a 20,000-square-kilometre territory along the China-Burma border in the northeast. Unlike the ethnic rebels, the CPB had vast quantities of arms and ammunition supplied by China from 1968 to 1978, when it was Beijing’s policy to support communist insurrections in Southeast Asia. Although the aid had almost ceased by 1980, the CPB still head enough munitions to last for at least ten years of guerrilla warfare against the central government.

Despite the Burmese military’s claim of a “communist conspiracy” behind the 1988 uprising – which then intelligence chief Khin Nyunt concocted in a lengthy speech on 5 August 1989 – there was at that time no linkage between the anti-totalitarian, pro-democracy movement in central Burma, and the orthodox, Marxist-Leninist leadership of the CPB. However, given the strong desire for revenge for the bloody events of 1988, it is plausible to assume that the urban dissidents would have accepted arms from any source. Thus, it became imperative for the ruling military to neutralise as many of the border insurgencies as possible, especially the CPB’s.

A situation which was potentially even more dangerous for the military regime arose in March and April 1989 when the hill-tribe rank-and-file of the CPB, led by the military commanders who also came from the various ethnic minorities in the northeastern base area, mutinied against the party’s ageing, mostly Burman political leadership. On 17 April 1989, ethnic Wa mutineers stormed party headquarters at Panghsang and drove the old leaders and their families, about 300 people, across the border into China.

The former CPB army split along ethnic lines, and formed four different, regional resistance armies, of which the now 30,000-strong United Wa State Army (UWSA) was by far the most powerful. Suddenly, there were no longer any communist insurgents in Burma, only ethnic rebels, and the junta worried about potential collaboration between the new, well-armed forces in the northeast and the minority groups along the Thai border – and the urban dissidents who had taken refuge there.

Within weeks of the CPB mutiny, Khin Nyunt helicoptered up to the northeastern border areas, met the leaders of the mutiny, and made them an offer. In exchange for ceasefire agreements with the government, and to sever any ties with any other rebels, the UWSA and other CPB mutineers were granted unofficial permission to engage in any kind of business to sustain themselves – which in Burma’s remote and underdeveloped hill areas inevitably meant opium production.

According to estimates by the US government, Burma’s opium production soared from 836 tons in 1987 to 2,340 tons by 1995. Satellite imagery showed that the area under poppy cultivation increased from 92,300 hectares to 154,000 during the same period. For the first time, heroin refineries, which previously had been located only along the Thai border, were established along the Chinese frontier, and the ceasefire agreements with the government enabled the traffickers to move narcotics freely along major roads and highways.

However, by the early 2000s, opium production began to decline after the boom years immediately after the CPB mutiny, but by then huge quantities of methamphetamines – in the past unknown in the Burmese sector of the Golden Triangle – were produced in laboratories in areas controlled by the UWSA and other former CPB groups. Burma remains one of the world’s biggest producers of illicit narcotics, and its production of opium and heroin is still significant, as the latest figures from the UNODC show.

The political threat from the border areas was thwarted, the regime was safe, and vast amounts of money derived from the drug trade were invested in Burma’s legal economy. Some of Burma’s most profitable business conglomerates and banks were established by drug barons allied with the UWSA and other ceasefire groups. All along, the Burmese military turned a blind eye to the traffic, and benefited from it economically. Apart from being invested in various sectors of the national economy, drug money also ended up in the pockets of many army officers, some of whom became immensely wealthy.

But simply neutralising the border insurgencies was only the first step; today, 20 years later, the government believes that the time has come to integrate the former rebel armies, and the election that is supposed to take place this year provided the ruling military with an excellent opportunity to press this demand. The ceasefire groups have been told to transform their armies into Border Guard Forces before the election so their political wings can form legitimate political parties to take part in the polls. But, as it turned out, the ceasefire groups were not prepared to accept this offer.

In August last year, the Burmese army attacked Kokang in northeastern Shan State, until then controlled by one of the smaller former CPB forces, which had resisted the demand to accept the status as a Border Guard Force. Huge amounts of drugs were seized in the operation against the local militia in Kokang which, until it ceased being an ally and broke with the government, had been praised by the authorities for its “drug-suppression efforts.”

The UNODC and its predecessor, the UNFDAC (the UN Fund for Drug Abuse Control), also used to praise the drug armies in similar terms. In January 1991, UNFDAC’s Don MacIntosh was present at a drug-burning show in northern Burma where he declared: “I am pleased to be in Shan state and have the opportunity to [attend] this important drug eradication exercise.” The ceremony was presided over by Peng Jiasheng – the druglord who was chased out of Kokang in August last year.

In more recent years, Jeremy Milsom, a former consultant to the UNODC, has openly defended the UWSA leadership, including some of its most notorious druglords. In his contribution to a book called Trouble in the Triangle: Opium and Conflict in Burma, Milsom stated that “Wei Xuegang [a Wa drugs baron who was close to intelligence chief Khin Nyunt], is an interesting figure with respect to the WSR [Wa Special Region]. Having helped the region immensely both in times of conflict and more recently by being the principal provider of social and economic development assistance to poor Wa farmers in the south, there is considerable respect for him. To add to this view, according to senior Wa sources, a condition of Wei Xuegang joining the UWSA in 1995 was that he not be involved in drug trafficking anymore and work with the WCA [Wa Central Authority] to help phase out drugs.”

The last sentence is puzzling, to say the least, as Wei has been involved with the UWSA since its formation in 1989. And, after giving up his involvement in the drug trade, Wei appears to have became a philanthropist, Milsom contends: “Ironically, Wei Xuegang has done more to support impoverished poppy farmers break their dependence on the crop than any other single person or institution in Burma, and this has been done by putting past drug profits back into the people as he perhaps tries to move into the mainstream economy.” To most others, Wei is the driving force behind most of the drug production in the Golden Triangle. He is wanted by both US and Thai authorities, which have indicted him on drug trafficking charges.

Remarkably, Milsom treats all the leaders of the UWSA as if they were representatives of the governments of Canada or Norway, taking all their outlandish claims at face value. He even questions whether the methamphetamine production in the Golden Triangle is controlled by the UWSA and its officers. The UNODC, it seems, needs to check on its personnel in Burma. Or, at the very least, encourage them to learn more about the country – and the Was and the geopolitical complexities of local insurgencies and the role of the drug trade in those conflicts – before they depart for their “project zone.”

Until recently, the Burmese government routinely praised the same druglords as well. Major General Thein Sein, then commander of the Burmese army’s Golden Triangle Region Command, said in a speech before local leaders at the drug-trafficking centre on Mong La on 9 May, 2001: “I was in Mong Ton and Mong Hsat for two weeks. U Wei Xuegang and U Bao Youri from the Wa groups are real friends.”

Bao Youri is another UWSA leader who has been indicted by a US federal court. Thein Sein is the current prime minister of Burma and the country’s fourth-highest ranking general. Official complicity in the drug trade is another question that the UN has ignored since it first became involved in Burma in the late 1970s.

It is too early to say whether the new tunes from the UNODC will result in any actual policy changes. But, at long last, the UNODC has publicly acknowledged that Burma’s drug problem cannot be separated from its decades-long ethnic conflicts. The UWSA and its allies may be financing their respective armed forces with income from the drug trade – but their very existence is also the direct result of the ethnic strife and the anarchy that has been tearing Burma apart for decades. It is about time the UNODC now recognises that no anti-drug policy in Burma has any chance of success unless it is linked to a real political solution to the civil war – and a meaningful democratic process in the entire country. The alternative is what we have today: never-ending internal ethnic and political conflicts, which will only keep drugs flowing.

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Timor-Leste: Oecusse and the Indonesian Border - International Crisis Group

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Asia Briefing Nº104 20 May 2010

Full PDF report Media release

International Crisis Group © 2010 | Legal Notice | Contact Us | Site by The Reference

This overview is also available in Tetum, Portuguese and Indonesian.

OVERVIEW

Indonesia and Timor-Leste have done much to normalise relations ten years after the end to Indonesian rule in the former province, but the goodwill between capitals is not yet matched by full cooperation on the border. The costs are greatest in Oecusse, Timor-Leste’s isolated enclave inside Indonesian West Timor. Negotiators have so far failed to agree on two segments of Oecusse’s border, leaving open the risk that minor local disputes could be politicised and escalate into larger conflicts. Without a final demarcation, steps to improve management of the porous border have stalled. Initiatives that would promote exchanges and lessen the enclave’s isolation remain unimplemented. As the bonds between the two nations grow, they should prioritise this unfinished business. Leaving it unresolved can only promote crime, corruption and the possibility of conflict.

The security threat to Oecusse and its 67,000 inhabitants has sharply decreased since independence. While the unresolved border segments remain a catalyst for occasional tensions, no violence has taken place in recent years. Settlement of the border issue requires both national and local responses. The governments must work with renewed urgency to resolve the remaining disputed segments. Whatever border is agreed will not satisfy everyone. To alleviate this discontent, local arrangements for cross-border activities should be promoted. Without such flexibility, long-standing local disputes will fester and could escalate into active conflict.

Beyond security threats, the two countries face a range of border management challenges over the movement of people and goods. Though the enclave has remained politically distinct for several hundred years, links remain strong between families divided by the border. They cross regularly for marriages and funerals. Some even farm land in the other country. Isolated from the rest of Timor-Leste, residents depend on cheap goods from Indonesia.

Informal arrangements have served to facilitate movement of goods and people in the absence of a sustainable system that would promote rather than criminalise local traffic, but these are often put on hold when border tensions rise, increasing Oecusse’s vulnerability. Both countries are establishing civilian border management agencies that may help accommodate local interests in the medium term, but they are still months, if not years away. Unresolved issues regarding accountability for the violence around the 1999 referendum and the subsequent large-scale displacement across the border pose challenges that are more political than security-oriented. Their resolution is a prerequisite for the enclave’s long-term stability.

While Oecusse’s viability in the years following independence was once questioned – chiefly by foreign observers – such concerns underestimated the strong sense of Timorese identity in the enclave and overestimated the threat from former Indonesia-era militia on the other side of the border. Investment by the central government has increased, sending a message of Dili’s commitment to the enclave. While welcomed by residents, such efforts start from a low base. Infrastructure remains poor, access to information limited and the ability to deliver government services low. Nationwide decentralisation was to have given this district the autonomy to determine some of its own cross-border affairs, but the process has stalled at national level. Timor-Leste’s leadership should consider uncoupling Oecusse’s regional development from the broader process and look for ways to provide means and funds to promote direct cross-border cooperation.

As Indonesia and Timor-Leste work on being good neigh­bours, they should focus on concrete actions that improve life for the people and lessen the risk of conflict on both sides of the border. While Indonesian doctrine means a significant decrease in security forces on the border is unlikely in the near term, demilitarisation of the frontier should remain on the agenda as a long-term goal that would truly reflect normal relations. Immediate steps that should be taken include:

• finalising demarcation of the border as a matter of priority;
• formalising arrangements for efficient communications between government and security forces on both sides of the border and at all levels, so as to create avenues for quick de-escalation of future incidents;
• increasing cooperation between the two countries’ military and police, including training and exchange of attachés;
• introducing the long-discussed border pass system for citizens of both countries and implementing the initiative for joint border markets that would facilitate both commercial and social exchange; and
• improving the training, equipment, and facilities of Timor-Leste’s border patrol unit.

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U.S. missile strikes in Pakistan kill Taliban militants

Image by Roger Smith via Flickr

By Joby Warrick
Washington Post Staff Writer
Thursday, January 7, 2010; A08

Back-to-back missile strikes on a training camp in Pakistan's lawless tribal region killed at least 13 militants Wednesday, the latest in a string of apparent U.S. attacks on Taliban targets in the wake of last week's suicide bombing at a CIA base in Afghanistan, U.S. and Pakistani officials said.

Pakistani sources said both missiles were fired by what appeared to be remote-controlled drone aircraft. The CIA has staged more than 50 such strikes in the past year in Pakistan's autonomous tribal belt, long a sanctuary to Taliban militants and, U.S. officials believe, al-Qaeda's top leadership.

Wednesday's attacks brought to five the number of strikes against Taliban targets since Dec. 30, when a suicide bomber killed eight U.S. and allied intelligence operatives at the CIA's Forward Operating Base Chapman in eastern Afghanistan.

The CIA declines to comment on such missile strikes, and U.S. counterterrorism officials cautioned Wednesday against linking the latest attacks to last week's bombing. However, the five strikes within a week were extraordinarily unusual. Moreover, most of the recent attacks -- including Wednesday's in a village called Sanzali -- have occurred across the border from the Afghan province of Khost, home to the Chapman base.

News of the drone attacks came as an al-Qaeda group issued a new claim of responsibility for the bombing of the CIA base. A statement posted on extremist Web sites by Mustafa Abu al-Yazid, head of al-Qaeda in Afghanistan, said the attack was intended to avenge the deaths of three al-Qaeda and Taliban leaders, according to a translation of the statement by SITE Intelligence Group. All three named were killed in previous drone strikes. Yazid hailed the penetration of a U.S. intelligence stronghold as a "successful epic."

Some counterterrorism experts have urged American commanders to refrain from an overly aggressive response to the attack on the CIA base. Shuja Nawaz, director of the South Asia Center at the Atlantic Council, said an expansion of drone strikes could stir a backlash in Pakistan.

"Public sentiment in the hinterland is dead set against these strikes in the first place," Nawaz said.

U.S. analysts were exploring possible links between the Haqqani network, a Taliban group closely allied to al-Qaeda, and suicide bomber Humam Khalil Abu-Mulal al-Balawi, the Jordanian who attacked the CIA base.

Relatives of Balawi, interviewed Wednesday in Jordan, said he was pressured to become an informant after Jordanian authorities arrested him because of his support for extremist causes.

"He got called in and interrogated," a man who identified himself as Balawi's brother said when reached by phone in Amman, Jordan's capital. "After that, he was under a lot of pressure."

Special correspondent Ranya Kadri in Amman contributed to this report.

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The Tijuana of the Caspian - The Atlantic (December 2009)

Image by myxabyxe via Flickr

At 8:45 a.m., the Azerbaijani cabbies were clustered in the courtyard next to the customs terminal, waiting for the Iranians to walk through a narrow, rusted door. They do this every morning in the town of Astara, which dates back 6,000 years and today sits on the border between the post-Soviet Republic of Azerbaijan and the Islamic Republic of Iran. It can be hard for the uninitiated to distinguish Azerbaijani Azeris from Iranian Azeris, but the drivers know their clientele.

“The Iranian girls are fairer, and they always have their heads down and their head scarves on,” said Misha Mamedli, a tall, slouching man with a gold front tooth and a stash of self-rolled cigarettes in his breast pocket. But the Iranian men, who have the cash and do the negotiating, drew the most attention from the cabbies. Decked in tight jeans and T-shirts with Italian print, they emitted a cool, confident brusqueness as they marched through the rusted door: their gateway to pork products, alcohol, and easy sex. - Peter Savodnik

“Here, it’s open,” Misha said. “No one cares what you do.”

This makes the mullahs in Tehran very nervous. Books, DVDs, fashions, and—most important—ideas that are inaccessible in Iran are ubiquitous in Azerbaijan. Iranians line up daily to cross the Astara River to buy and sell jeans, chickens, bras, laptops—and often sex and schnapps and heroin. This commerce, combined with cultural curiosity and shared Azeri bloodlines, has transformed Astara into the Tijuana of the Caspian.

Astara doesn’t scream so much as strongly hint at the possibility of sin. Next to the customs terminal’s courtyard and above the row of babushkas selling tea and beef kebabs, there’s a convenient motel (“Ideal for bringing the girls back to,” one Iranian told me). The fluorescent-lit cafés on Aliyarbeyov Street are stocked with Russian vodka and French cognac, and the Turkish Salon, on Fountain Square, offers, among other things, tattoos, piercings, astrological forecasts, and “full-body massage.”

All of this is made possible by the Azerbaijanis’ somewhat attenuated relationship with God, the product of seven decades of Communist rule and a steady influx of Westerners after oil was discovered in the mid-1800s. Iranians find the Azerbaijanis’ mildly ironic attitude toward Islam a welcome relief from the stern theocracy of the ayatollahs. During Ramadan many Azerbaijanis do not fast, and the cafés in Astara do a bustling lunch business, serving lamb shashlik, or barbecue, to visiting Iranians. Manana Shafieva, a stylist at the Turkish Salon, said many Iranian men bring in their wives to be spruced up. “They say, ‘I know she can be beautiful. Can you make her beautiful?’ They know we know about hair and what it means to have a modern image.”

But the Iranian mullahs are not merely concerned about the affectations of modernity. Mamedli, the cab driver, said that the crowds lining up for entry to Astara have surged since June, when hundreds of thousands of Iranians protested the allegedly rigged reelection of President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. This has worrisome implications: the potential for political upheaval is acute in Iran’s north, where the bulk of the country’s university students live, along with most of its 15 million to 30 million ethnic Azeris (out of a total population of about 73 million). Prominent ethnic Azeris in Iran include Ahmadinejad’s presidential rival, Mir-Hossein Moussavi, the poet Mohammad Hossein Shahriar, and the filmmaker Kamal Tabrizi. Even the supreme leader of Iran, Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, is part Azeri. Many Azeris are so swollen with ethnic pride that Iranian officials suspect them of dual loyalty.

As a result, an Azerbaijani Ministry of Foreign Affairs official told me, “it’s common knowledge that the Iranians want the border shut down.”

At night, the courtyard next to the customs terminal was empty except for a few malnourished cats. On the Iranian side of the border, an imam and his flock were praying. Their voices drifted across the river and through the mesh of walls and fences. On Fountain Square, kids blasted Israeli pop music. A guard stopped me as I navigated the darkened market stalls, redolent of tea and rotting nectarines.

“The border is closed until morning,” he said. Then he nodded at the motel. “You want a room? It’s very nice, with a television and a girl.”

I said I was staying near the square and just taking a stroll.

“Only 10 manats,” he persisted. “I can get you this. Anything you want.” I laughed, and he lit a cigarette. “Come on,” he said, “don’t be a Muslim.”

Mexican Pot Gangs Infiltrate Indian Reservations in U.S. - WSJ.com

By JOEL MILLMAN

Washington State Patrol

Washington State Police got to this marijuana harvest before the Mexican gangs did.

WARM SPRINGS, Ore. -- Police Chief Carmen Smith says he knows three things about suspected drug trafficker Artemio Corona: He's from Mexico, prefers a Glock .40-caliber handgun, and is quite possibly growing marijuana on the Indian reservation that Mr. Smith patrols.

Last year, Mr. Smith's detectives identified Mr. Corona as the alleged mastermind behind several large marijuana plantations on the Warm Springs Indian Reservation in central Oregon. These "grows," as police call them, had a harvest of 12,000 adult plants, with an estimated street value of $10 million. Five suspects were arrested and pleaded guilty to federal trafficking charges. But their alleged boss, Mr. Corona, who has not been indicted, remains a "person of interest" to federal authorities and hasn't been found.

On the Colville Indian Reservation in Washington, tribal authorities hunt for illegal marijuana farms hidden deep in the forest. WSJ's Joel Millman reports.

Cultivating marijuana in Indian country represents a new twist in the decades-old illicit drug trade between Mexico and the U.S., the world's largest drug-consuming market. For decades, Mexican drug gangs grew marijuana in Mexico, smuggled it across the border, and sold it in the U.S. But in the past few years, they have done what any burgeoning business would do: move closer to their customers.

Illicit pot farms, the vast majority run by gangs with ties to Mexico, are growing fast across the country. The U.S. Forest Service has discovered pot farms in 61 national forests across 16 states this year, up from 49 forests in 10 states last year. New territories include public land in Colorado, Wisconsin, Michigan, Alabama and Virginia.

The area where Mexican gangs seem to be expanding the fastest is on Indian reservations. In Washington state, tribal police seized more than 233,000 pot plants on Indian land last year, almost 10 times the 2006 figure. Pot seized on Washington's reservations accounted for about half of all pot seized on both private and public land last year. Police are finding pot farms on reservations stretching from California to South Dakota.

"These criminal organizations are growing in Indian country at an alarming rate," says Chief Smith. "The [growers] on our reservation were sent directly from Mexico."

At Chief Smith's reservation, police found trash piles that included crushed Modelo-brand beer cans and tortilla packages. They also recovered cellphones with a flurry of calls to and from Michoacán, Mexico -- an important drug-producing state. One grow in Washington state's Yakama Reservation featured a makeshift shrine to Mexico's unofficial patron saint to smugglers, Jesús Malverde, complete with votive candles and a photograph of the mythical figure.

Part of the trend is due to unforeseen consequences of stepped-up security on the U.S. border to slow the tide of illegal immigration from Mexico. Tighter borders make it harder to smuggle pot north, creating the need to produce the cash crop closer to market.

U.S. officials say the quality, and thus price, of U.S. grown weed is much higher than that grown in Mexico. The Mexican variety, typically full of stems and leaves, with a lower content of THC, the active narcotic in marijuana, brings in about $500 to $700 a pound, estimates Washington State Patrol Lt. Richard Wiley, who monitors marijuana grows on the state's public lands. By contrast, a pound of Washington-grown marijuana can command $2,500 locally or up to $6,000 on the East Coast.

Arrests for a marijuana 'grow' valued at $10 million, from top to bottom: Héctor Castillo, Oscar Castillo-Zapién, Evan Michael Nelson and Alejandro Zapién

Warm Springs Tribal Police Department

Warm Springs Police Department

Warm Springs Police Department

Warm Springs Police Department

Marijuana is a lucrative business for Mexican cartels, generating at least $9 billion a year in estimated revenues, according to U.S. and Mexican officials. Mexican gangs are relying even more on income from pot, U.S. drug authorities say, as they burn through cash fighting each other and the Mexican government, which has launched a crackdown. The math is tempting. Start-up expense for about dozen plots, with 10,000 plants each, is well under $500,000, U.S. officials estimate, including the cost of hiring 100 workers to plant marijuana and then several "tenders" to water them for three to four months until harvest. Incidental costs might include generators, PVC pipe and food supplies for the growers. Those plants could fetch about $120 million on the open market. With such impressive profit margins, a cartel can afford to have dozens of grows spotted and eradicated for every one that it harvests successfully.

The tighter U.S.-Mexican border is also prompting an unwillingness by illegal farm workers to cross back and forth. These migrants have decided to stay put in El Norte rather than return to Mexico after harvest -- creating a year-round labor force in rural areas. In a down economy, those workers face long stretches of unemployment -- leaving them easily swayed by offers to make quick cash growing marijuana.

That seems to be happening in Indian country. Chief Smith, who is a Wichita tribal member from Oklahoma but came here for the job, says the cartel growing pot on his reservation was paying tenders $2,000 a month each to water and watch their plots.

Indian reservations are full of transients, either people from other tribes whose members have married into local families, or undocumented farmworkers from Mexico. "Around here it's not easy to tell who's a tribal member and who's Hispanic," says Police Chief Keith Hutchenson of Idaho's Coeur d'Alene Tribe. That makes it easier for Mexican drug traffickers to blend in, he adds.

A decade ago, police in Washington state say most of the state's pot was grown by hobbyists indoors, using high-powered lamps. But that has changed in recent years to larger, outdoor grows that are more "corporate," run by sophisticated Mexican gangs.

At first, the Mexican growers began using remote public parkland in California, and have since expanded toward neighboring Oregon and Washington. Both states have two things gangs need: lots of unguarded forest land and lots of cheap Mexican labor.

Mexico-based cartels exploit several conditions unique to reservations, starting with chronically understaffed tribal police departments. Overlapping jurisdictions between tribal courts and outside agencies -- from the local sheriff to the federal Drug Enforcement Administration -- confuse the issue of who should take the lead in prosecuting crimes.

Federal authorities coordinate with tribal authorities on issues related to investigations, search warrants and other criminal proceedings, says Assistant U.S. Attorney Kathleen Bickers of Portland, who prosecuted the men growing pot on the Warm Springs Reservation.

Another attraction is the sheer size of the jurisdictions. Colville Reservation is 2,200 square miles and patrolled by just 19 tribal police officers. The ancestral homes of tribes such as Oregon's Umatilla, Idaho's Nez Perce and Washington's Yakama have thousands of acres of often uninhabited land, and also abut huge tracts of public land.

The cartels often mix the marijuana plants in with other crops, such as corn, or plant them deep inside forests amid pine and oak trees to make them difficult to detect from air patrols.

The reservations aren't only home to marijuana farms but are becoming sites for gun trafficking. At the Yakama homeland, a 1.4-million-acre reservation near Toppenish, Wash., a Mexican gang allegedly has planted hundreds of acres of marijuana and run guns to Mexico. U.S. investigators say the guns have ended up in the hands of Mexico's most feared paramilitary drug group, Los Zetas.

There is enough gun trafficking that Washington state now ranks fourth as a supplier of weapons to Mexican drug gangs after Texas, California and Arizona, according to police. "A weapon bought here for $1,000 can be sold for $3,000 or even $6,000" south of the border, says Michael Akins, lead investigator for a multiagency drug task force, called Operation Green Jam. "That might buy cocaine for $3,000 a pound, which then could be sold in Washington for $20,000 a pound."

State police believe gunmen from Los Zetas, a group initially formed by deserters from Mexico's army and famed for its brutality, are already in Washington to provide security during harvests. In 2008 police recovered a small arsenal of powerful weapons near the Yakama grows.

"AR-15s and Berettas, mostly. At least a dozen," says Lt. Wiley, of the Washington State Patrol.

There is enough money involved in growing to tempt some legal residents. In September, law-enforcement officials in Benton County, Wash., busted three men working at a private ranch owned by Jose Luis Cardenas, a legal immigrant from Mexico. He allegedly earned $3,000 from a drug gang to rent his barn for eight days, the Benton County officials said. Stalks of fresh marijuana were dried and picked by workers arranged in a circle, like an old-time shucking bee, according to state police. Mr. Cardenas, who was charged with harboring and abetting illegal production of a controlled substance, is in custody, and didn't respond to requests for comment.

The operations can be elaborate. One site at the Yakama reservation sat more than a dozen miles from the nearest paved road. Tapping water from an abandoned livestock trough, growers had workers string more than 1,000 yards of plastic irrigation pipe down to a cistern that fed a primitive treetop sprinkler system.

Tribal police uncovered another irrigation network in July at the Colville Reservation, just south of the Canadian border. After damming a small spring, guerrilla cultivators strung drip irrigation pipe hundreds of yards to marijuana fields. At one spot, the gang dug a rustic cistern from the crater of a fallen ponderosa pine. Nearby, they ran a gasoline-powered generator hitched to a pump that took spring water to a second cistern almost a mile away. The jury-rigged spillway nourished a total of 24,000 plants along the mountain slope.

That grow at Colville was found deep in the backwoods, where the tribe harvests timber for two reservation lumber mills. Colville Police Chief Matt Haney suspects immigrant workers hired to replant trees end up doing reconnaissance work for drug organizations.

"We've got over a million acres and forest fires are common," the chief explains. "Mexican laborers are hired by the U.S. Forest Service to do replanting, and work for the tribe's timber operations, too. They notice where there are streams, where there aren't streams. What can be reached by road, what can't. They share that information with some very sophisticated growers."

Warms Springs Reservation police say the drug gangs planting marijuana on the reservation since 2007 may have had Mexican workers spotting sites for them. Workers are often hired by tribal enterprises, including a small company that collects pine cones and fronds to fashion into Christmas tree ornaments.

John Webb, a tribal police detective, says collecting pine cones gives outsiders an excuse to be on the reservation -- something normally not allowed -- and form friendships.

Mr. Webb doesn't know whether pine-cone collecting prompted Oscar Castillo Zapién to come to Warm Springs. But in September 2008, Mr. Castillo was arrested for assault after allegedly firing his Glock semiautomatic pistol into a van departing from his home, striking one passenger in the neck. Eventually police linked him to the outdoor marijuana grows, together with at least three cousins, Héctor Castillo, Alejandro Zapién and Alfredo Olivera.

The men told authorities, as part of a plea bargain, that they reported to Artemio Corona, who was also a relative. In court papers, some of the suspects claimed to have been terrorized by Mr. Corona, who they say threatened them with his own Glock as he supervised work in the secret marijuana gardens.

At first, the Mexican suspects thought operating on tribal land shielded them from prosecution, says Mr. Webb. While the tribal court declined to prosecute, federal authorities were eager to take the case. To avoid the cost of trial, the U.S. attorney in Portland allowed the five defendants to plead guilty to a relatively minor charge of "conspiracy to manufacture marijuana," and receive sentences of up to 70 months in prison. Four are now serving time in U.S. federal prisons. One received probation.

Tribal police in Washington and Oregon say they expect Mexican gangs to keep reappearing every year during the summer harvest season. Says Chief Smith: "If we ever catch them, we'll run them off the reservation."

Write to Joel Millman at joel.millman@wsj.com

Take Myanmar's Military Ambition Seriously: BIPSS

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Bangladesh needs to seriously take the issue of Myanmar's reinforced military presence along the border to safeguard its national security, a Dhaka-based think-tank says.

The Bangladesh Institute of Peace and Security Studies (BIPSS), a think-tank that deals with security issues in South and Southeast Asia, in a publication has suggested that there are many contentious issues with neighbour Myanmar and those need to be resolved for the national interest.

The issues such as Rohiynga and dispute over maritime boundary have daunted the relations between the two neighbours in recent times, says an article of its publication, BIPSS FOCUS.

It says Myanmar's recent strengthening of military presence in the Rakhine state, which borders Bangladesh, is a big concern.

"Bangladesh needs to take Myanmar's recent military ambition seriously," the publication says in an article, titled "Bangladesh –Myanmar Relations: The Security Dimension".

It says Myanmar has increased movement of troops while construction of concrete pillars and barbed-wire fences along the border has been sped up.

The military junta in Myanmar has also extended the runway of Sitwee Airport enabling it for operation of MiG-29 multi-role combat aircraft and all 12 MiG-29 aircraft of Myanmar Air Force are presently deployed at Sitwee, the article says. Land has also been acquired for construction of airport at Buthidaung, it adds.

The article says massive repair and reconstruction of road, bridges and culverts are going on in Western Command area while regular disembarkation of tanks, artillery guns, Recoilles Rifles, mortars in Buthidaung river jetty is going on.

Saying that such developments are "alarming" for Bangladesh, the article further says that Myanmar has commenced barbed-wire fencing along the border with Bangladesh since March 2009, and so far approximately 38 kilometer fencing is completed till end of July this year.

Considering all these issues, the article says: "It is observed that Bangladesh-Myanmar relations have developed through phases of cooperation and conflict."

"Conflict in this case is not meant in the sense of confrontation, but only in the sense of conflict of interests and resultant diplomatic face-off," it says.

The article warns that "unfriendly relations with Myanmar can benefit small insurgent groups living in the hilly jungle areas of the southern portion of the Chittagong Hill Tract, which can cause some degree of instability in the area and become a serious concern for national security."

The article also suggests that Bangladesh can benefit in ways by maintaining a good relation with Myanmar, which has a good friendship with China.

"It (Myanmar) is the potential gateway for an alternative land route opening towards China and Southeast Asia other than the sea," it says. "Such road link has the potentiality for a greater communication network between Bangladesh and Southeast Asian countries including Thailand, Malaysia and Singapore."

Moreover, the article says, with a rich natural resource base, Myanmar is a country with considerable potential.

"Myanmar's forests and other natural resources like gas, oil, stones are enormous from which Bangladesh can be benefited enormously," it says.

The article suggests the policymakers review the existing defence priorities to suit the magnitude of threat being faced by the nation.

"The policy regarding Myanmar needs to be a careful combination of effective diplomacy while safeguarding our security interests," it says.

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Kagame's Hidden War in the Congo - The New York Review of Books

Image via Wikipedia

By Howard W. French

Africa's World War: Congo, the Rwandan Genocide, and the Making of a Continental Catastrophe

by Gérard Prunier

Oxford University Press, 529 pp., $27.95

The Dynamics of Violence in Central Africa

by René Lemarchand

University of Pennsylvania Press, 327 pp., $59.95

The Congo Wars: Conflict, Myth and Reality

by Thomas Turner

Zed Books, 243 pp., $32.95 (paper)

Although it has been strangely ignored in the Western press, one of the most destructive wars in modern history has been going on in the Democratic Republic of Congo, Africa's third-largest country. During the past eleven years millions of people have died, while armies from as many as nine different African countries fought with Congolese government forces and various rebel groups for control of land and natural resources. Much of the fighting has taken place in regions of northeastern and eastern Congo that are rich in minerals such as gold, diamonds, tin, and coltan, which is used in manufacturing electronics.

Few realize that a main force driving this conflict has been the largely Tutsi army of neighboring Rwanda, along with several Congolese groups supported by Rwanda. The reason for this involvement, according to Rwandan president Paul Kagame, is the continued threat to Rwanda posed by the Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Rwanda (FDLR), a Hutu militia that includes remnants of the army that carried out the 1994 Rwandan genocide. Until now, the US and other Western powers have generally supported Kagame diplomatically. And in January, Congo president Joseph Kabila, whose weak government has long had limited influence in the eastern part of the country, entered a surprise agreement with Kagame to allow Rwandan forces back into eastern Congo to fight the FDLR. But the extent of the Hutu threat to Rwanda is much debated, and observers note that Rwandan-backed forces have themselves been responsible for much of the violence in eastern Congo over the years.

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Rwanda's intervention in Congo began in 1996. Two years earlier, Kagame's Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) had invaded Rwanda from neighboring Uganda, defeating the government in Kigali and ending the genocide of some 800,000 Tutsis and moderate Hutus. As Kagame installed a minority Tutsi regime in Rwanda, some two million Hutu refugees fled to UN-run camps, mostly in Congo's North and South Kivu provinces. These provinces, which occupy an area of about 48,000 square miles—slightly larger than the state of Pennsylvania—are situated along Congo's eastern border with Uganda, Rwanda, and Burundi and together have a population of more than five million people. In addition to containing rich deposits of minerals, North and South Kivu have, since the precolonial era, been subject to large waves of migration by people from Rwanda, including both Hutus and Tutsis. In recent decades these Rwandans have competed with more established residents for control of land.

Following Kagame's consolidation of power in Rwanda, a large invasion force of Rwandan Tutsis arrived in North and South Kivu to pursue Hutu militants and to launch a war against the three-decade-long dictatorship of Congo (then known as Zaire) by Mobutu Sese Seko, whom they claimed was giving refuge to the leaders of the genocide. With Rwandan and Ugandan support, a new regime led by Laurent Kabila was installed in Kinshasa, the Congolese capital. But after Kabila ordered the Rwandan troops to leave in 1998, Kagame responded with a new and even larger invasion of the country.

Kabila's hold on power was saved at this point by Angola and Zimbabwe, which rushed troops into Congo to repel the Rwandan invaders. Angola was motivated by fears that Congolese territory would be used as a rear base by the longtime Angolan rebel leader Jonas Savimbi, following the renewed outbreak of that country's civil war. Zimbabwe appears to have been drawn by promises of access to Congolese minerals. The protracted and inconclusive conflict that followed has become what Gérard Prunier, in the title of his sprawling book, calls "Africa's World War," a catastrophic decade of violence that has led to a staggering 5.4 million deaths, far more than any war anywhere since World War II.^[1] It also has resulted in one of the largest—and least followed—UN interventions in the world, involving nearly 20,000 UN soldiers from over forty countries.

Throughout this conflict, Rwanda—a small, densely populated country with few natural resources of its own—has pursued Congo's enormous mineral wealth. Initially, the Rwandan Patriotic Front was directly operating mining businesses in Congo, according to UN investigators; more recently, Rwanda has attempted to maintain control of regions of eastern Congo through various proxy armies. Among these, none has been more lethal than the militia led by Laurent Nkunda, Congo's most notorious warlord, whose record of violence in eastern Congo includes destroying entire villages, committing mass rapes, and causing hundreds of thousands of Congolese to flee their homes.

Nkunda is a Congolese Tutsi who is believed to have fought in both the Rwandan civil war and the subsequent war against Mobutu. In 2002, he was dispatched by the Rwandan government to Kisangani—an inland city in eastern Congo whose nearby gold mines have been fought over by Ugandan and Rwandan-backed forces. Nkunda committed numerous atrocities there, including the massacre of some 160 people, according to Human Rights Watch. In 2004, Nkunda declined a military appointment by Congo's transitional government, choosing instead to back a Tutsi insurgency in North Kivu near the Rwandan border. He claimed that his actions were aimed at preventing an impending genocide of Tutsis in Congo. Most observers say that these claims were groundless.

Nkunda's insurgency was put down, but clashes between his rebels, government forces, and other groups continued to foster ethnic tensions in eastern Congo, including widespread sexual violence against women; in 2005, the UN estimated that some 45,000 women were raped in South Kivu alone.^[2] And in the fall of 2008, Nkunda—apparently with Kagame's encouragement—led a new offensive of Tutsi rebels in North Kivu that uprooted about 200,000 civilians and threatened to capture the city of Goma, near the Rwandan border.

In January 2009, however, the Rwandan government made a surprise decision to arrest Nkunda. Kagame's willingness to move against Nkunda appears to stem, in part, from increasing international scrutiny of Rwanda's meddling in eastern Congo. The arrest took place just after the release of a UN report documenting Rwanda's close ties to the warlord, and concluding that he was being used to advance Rwanda's economic interests in Congo's eastern hinterlands. The report stated that Rwandan authorities had "been complicit in the recruitment of soldiers, including children, have facilitated the supply of military equipment, and have sent officers and units from the Rwandan Defense Forces," while giving Nkunda access to Rwandan bank accounts and allowing him to launch attacks on the Congolese army from Rwandan soil.

Following Nkunda's arrest, Congo president Joseph Kabila agreed to allow Rwandan forces to conduct a five-week joint military operation in eastern Congo against Hutu rebels.^[3] But attacks against civilians have increased precipitously since the joint operation, and with Hutu and Tutsi militias still active it remains unclear whether there will be a lasting peace between Rwanda and Congo.

Africa's World War is the most ambitious of several remarkable new books that reexamine the extraordinary tragedy of Congo and Central Africa since the Rwandan genocide of 1994. Along with René Lemarchand's The Dynamics of Violence in Central Africa and Thomas Turner's The Congo Wars: Conflict, Myth and Reality, Prunier's Africa's World War explores arguments that have circulated among scholars of sub-Saharan Africa for years. Prunier himself, who is an East Africa specialist at the University of Paris, has previously written a highly regarded account of the genocide. But these books will surprise many whose knowledge of the region is based on popular accounts of the genocide and its aftermath. In all three, the Kagame regime, and its allies in Central Africa, are portrayed not as heroes but rather as opportunists who use moral arguments to advance economic interests. And their supporters in the United States and Western Europe emerge as alternately complicit, gullible, or simply confused. For their part in bringing intractable conflict to a region that had known very little armed violence for nearly thirty years, all the parties—so these books argue—deserve blame, including the United States.

The concentrated evil of the methodical Hutu slaughter of Tutsis in 1994 is widely known. For many it has long been understood as a grim, if fairly simple, morality play: the Hutus were extremist killers, while the Tutsis of the RPF are portrayed as avenging angels, who swooped in from their bases in Uganda to stop the genocide. But Lemarchand and Prunier show that the story was far more complicated. They both depict the forces of Kagame's Rwandan Patriotic Front as steely, power-driven killers themselves.

"When the genocide did start, saving Tutsi civilians was not a priority," Prunier writes. "Worse, one of the most questionable of the RPF ideologues coolly declared in September 1994 that the 'interior' Tutsi"—those who had remained in Rwanda and not gone into exile in Uganda years earlier—"deserved what happened to them 'because they did not want to flee as they were getting rich doing business'" with the former Hutu regime. He also notes that the RPF "unambiguously opposed" all talk of a foreign intervention, however unlikely, to stop the genocide, apparently because such intervention could have prevented Kagame from taking full power.

Moreover, slaughter during the one hundred days of genocide was not the monopoly of the Hutus, as is widely believed. Both Lemarchand and Prunier recount the work of RPF teams that roamed the countryside methodically exterminating ordinary, unarmed Hutu villagers.^[4] This sort of killing, rarely mentioned in press accounts of the genocide, continued well after the war was over. For example, on April 22, 1995, units of the new national army surrounded the Kibeho refugee camp in south Rwanda, where about 150,000 Hutu refugees stood huddled shoulder to shoulder, and opened fire on the crowd with rifles and with 60mm mortars.^[5] According to Prunier, a thirty- two-member team of the Australian Medical Corps had counted 4,200 corpses at the camp before being stopped by the Rwandan army. Prunier calls the Kagame regime's use of violence in that period "something that resembles neither the genocide nor uncontrolled revenge killings, but rather a policy of political control through terror."

Some commentators in the United States have viewed Kagame as a sort of African Konrad Adenauer, crediting him with bringing stability and rapid economic growth to war-torn Rwanda, while running an administration considered to be one of the more efficient in Africa. In the nine years he has led the country (after serving as interim president, he won an election to a seven-year term in 2003), he has also gotten attention for the reconciliation process he has imposed on villages throughout Rwanda.

Firmly opposed to such views, the three authors reviewed here characterize Kagame's regime as more closely resembling a minority ethnic autocracy. In a recent interview, Prunier dismissed the recently much-touted reconciliation efforts, calling post-genocide Rwanda "a very well-managed ethnic, social, and economic dictatorship." True reconciliation, he said, "hinges on cash, social benefits, jobs, property rights, equality in front of the courts, and educational opportunities," all of which are heavily stacked against the roughly 85 percent of the population that is Hutu, a problem that in Prunier's view presages more conflict in the future. In his book, Lemarchand, an emeritus professor at the University of Florida who has done decades of fieldwork in the region, observes that Hutus have been largely excluded from important positions of power in Kagame's Rwanda, and that the state's military and security forces are pervasive. "The political decisions with the gravest consequences for the nation...are undertaken by the RPF's Tutsi leadership, not by the political establishment," he writes.

Those concerns are shared by human rights groups, which have documented the suppression of dissent in Rwanda.Freedom House ranked Rwanda 183 out of 195 countries in press freedom in 2008, while Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch have also described the Rwandan government as imposing harsh and arbitrary justice—including long-term incarceration without trial and life sentences in solitary confinement. Other Western observers and human rights activists have noted that the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda has never properly investigated atrocities committed by Tutsis. In June, more than seventy scholars from North American and European universities wrote an open letter to the UN secretary-general, President Barack Obama, and Prime Minister Gordon Brown expressing "grave concern at the ongoing failure" of the tribunal to bring "indictments against those soldiers of the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) who committed crimes against humanity and war crimes in Rwanda in 1994," and warning that this omission may cause the tribunal "to be dismissed as 'victor's justice.'"

On the question of Rwanda's principal motive for seeking to control or destabilize eastern Congo, the books broadly agree: Kagame and his government want, as Lemarchand writes, "continued access to the Congo's economic wealth." Lemarchand says that within Congo itself the FDLR poses a "clear and present danger to Tutsi and other communities." Like Prunier, though, he concludes that the threat the Hutu group poses to Rwanda's own security is "vastly exaggerated," noting that its fighters "are no match" for Rwandan and Rwanda-backed forces amounting to "70,000 men under arms and a sophisticated military arsenal, consisting of armored personnel carriers (APCs), tanks, and helicopters."

Thomas Turner draws parallels between the exploitation of Congo by Rwanda and Uganda and the brutal late-nineteenth-century regime of King Leopold of Belgium, whose thirst for empire drove his acquisition of what became known as the Congo Free State. Citing a 2001 United Nations investigation of the conflict, Turner concludes:

Resource extraction from eastern Congo, occupied by Uganda and Rwanda until recently, would seem to constitute "pure" pillage.... Much as in Free State days, the Congo was financing the occupation of a portion of its own territory. Unlike Free State days, none of the proceeds of this pillage were being reinvested.

According to a 2005 report on the Rwandan economy by the South African Institute for Security Studies, Rwanda's officially recorded coltan production soared nearly tenfold between 1999 and 2001, from 147 tons to 1,300 tons, surpassing revenues from the country's main traditional exports, tea and coffee, for the first time. "Part of the increase in production is due to the opening of new mines in Rwanda," the report said. "However, the increase is primarily due to the fraudulent re-export of coltan of Congolese origin."

When Rwanda moved to invade Mobutu's Zaire in 1996, Prunier says, the country's administration "was so rotten that the brush of a hand could cause it to collapse." Since the 1960s, Congo had remained relatively stable by virtue of a confluence of circumstances, which suddenly no longer held. After backing the wrong side during the Rwandan genocide, France had lost its will or interest in playing its longtime part as regional patron to several client regimes. Following the removal of Mobutu, who often did the bidding of Western powers, there was no longer any clear regional strongman to mediate disputes. The allegiance of African states to the idea of permanently fixed borders, which had held firm since independence, was being challenged. And finally, the vacuum created by Mobutu's overthrow unleashed fierce competition for Congolese coltan and other resources and led to what Turner calls the "militarization of commerce" by both foreign governments and rebel groups.

In allowing the Rwandan invasion of Zaire, the United States had two very different goals. The most immediate was the clearing of over one million Hutu refugees from UN camps near the Rwandan border, which had become bases for vengeful elements of the defeated Hutu army and Interahamwe militia, the agents of the Rwandan genocide. In Prunier's telling:

When Assistant Secretary of State for African Affairs Susan Rice came back from her first trip to the Great Lakes region [of East Africa], a member of her staff said, "Museveni [of Uganda] and Kagame agree that the basic problem in the Great Lakes is the danger of a resurgence of genocide and they know how to deal with that. The only thing we [i.e., the US] have to do is look the other way."

The gist of Prunier's anecdote is correct, except that participants have confirmed to me that it was Rice herself who spoke these words.

In fact, getting the Hutu militia out of the UN camps was rapidly achieved in November 1996 by shelling them from Rwandan territory. Thereafter, the war against Mobutu dominated international headlines, overshadowing a secret Rwanda campaign that targeted for slaughter the Hutu populations that had fled into Congo. Here again, Washington provided vital cover.

At the time, the American ambassador to Congo, Daniel Howard Simpson, told me flatly that the fleeing Hutus were "the bad guys."^[6] One of the worst massacres by Kagame's Tutsi forces took place at the Tingi-Tingi refugee camp in northeastern Congo, which by 1997 contained over 100,000 Hutu refugees. But on January 21, 1997, Robert E. Gribbin, Simpson's counterpart in Rwanda, cabled Washington with the following advice:

We should pull out of Tingi-Tingi and stop feeding the killers who will run away to look for other sustenance, leaving their hostages behind.... If we do not we will be trading the children in Tingi-Tingi for the children who will be killed and orphaned in Rwanda.

There was a grim half-truth to Gribbin's assessment. The Hutu fighters traveling amid the refugees were often able to avoid engagement with their Tutsi pursuers by fleeing westward into the Congolese rain forest. The genuine refugees, who by UNHCR's estimate accounted for 93 percent of the Hutus in flight, could not. The best evidence suggests that they died by the scores of thousands in their flight across Congo, in what Lemarchand calls "a genocide of attrition." Prunier estimates the number killed in this manner at 300,000.^[7]

In August 1997, the UN began to investigate Tutsi killings of Hutu civilians and, as Turner recounts, "a preliminary report identified forty massacre sites." But the investigators were stonewalled by Kabila's Congo government—then still backed by Rwanda—and received little support from Washington. Roberto Garreton, a Chilean human rights lawyer who headed the UN investigation, was barred from the Rwandan capital of Kigali and his team was largely kept from the field in Congo. Garreton later wrote:

One cannot of course ignore the presence of persons guilty of genocide, soldiers and militia members, among the refugees.... It is nevertheless unacceptable to claim that more than one million people, including large numbers of children, should be collectively designated as persons guilty of genocide and liable to execution without trial.

Rwanda's designs on eastern Congo were further helped by the Clinton administration's interest in promoting a group of men it called the New African Leaders, including the heads of state of Ethiopia, Eritrea, Uganda, and Rwanda. As Clinton officials saw it, these New Leaders were sympathetic and businesslike, drawn together by such desirable goals as overthrowing Mobutu, by antagonism toward the Islamist government of Sudan, which shares a border with northeast Congo, and by talk of rethinking Africa's hitherto sacrosanct borders, as a means of creating more viable states.

Then Assistant Secretary of State Rice touted the New Leaders as pursuing "African solutions to African problems." In 1999, Marina Ottaway, the influential Africa expert of the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, told the Senate Subcommittee on Africa:

Many of the states that emerged from the colonial period have ceased to exist in practice.... The problem is to create functioning states, either by re-dividing territory or by creating new institutional arrangements such as decentralized federations or even confederations.

In fact, the favored group of African leaders were also authoritarian figures with military backgrounds, all of whom had scorned democratic elections. According to Turner, support for the New Leaders "apparently meant that the USA and Britain should continue to aid Rwanda and Uganda as they 'found solutions' by carving up Congo."

As in the case of the Rwandan genocide, Lemarchand suggests, the policies of the United States and other Western powers toward the conflict in Congo have been misguided in part out of ignorance of Central Africa's complicated twentieth-century history. Episodes of appalling violence in this region have occurred periodically at least since 1959, and cannot be remedied without first understanding their deeper causes. As Lemarchand writes:

From the days of the Hutu revolution in Rwanda [in 1959–1962] to the invasion of the "refugee warriors" from Uganda [under Kagame's leadership] in 1994, from the huge exodus of Hutu from Burundi in 1972 to the "cleansing" of Hutu refugee camps in 1996–97, the pattern that emerges again and again is one in which refugee populations serve as the vehicles through which ethnic identities are mobilized and manipulated, host communities preyed upon, and external resources extracted.

Some will always quibble with where to begin this story, whether with colonial favoritism for the Tutsis by Belgium in the first half of the twentieth century, or with Brussels's flip-flop in 1959 in favor of the Hutus on the eve of Rwandan independence, which led to the anti-Tutsi pogroms that sent Kagame's family and those of so many others of his RPF comrades into exile in Uganda. These events in turn had far-reaching effects on Rwanda's small neighbor Burundi, a German and later Belgian colony that gained independence in 1962 and, like Rwanda, has a large Hutu majority and Tutsi minority. In 1972, an extremist Tutsi regime there, driven by a fear of being overthrown, carried out the first genocide since the Holocaust, killing 300,000 Hutus.

In the West, the Burundi genocide is scarcely remembered, but its consequences live on in the region. Terrorized Hutus streamed out of Burundi into Rwanda, helping to set Rwanda onto a path of Hutu extremism, and priming it for its own genocide two decades later. The final instigator of the Rwandan tragedy was the mysterious shooting down of a presidential plane on April 6, 1994, which killed presidents Juvénal Habyarimana of Rwanda and Cyprien Ntaramyira of Burundi, who were both Hutu. This precipitated the horrific massacre of Rwandan Tutsis, but also a broader Hutu–Tutsi conflict, which by 1996 had begun to tear apart large swaths of eastern Congo.

The events that have followed Rwanda's arrest of the warlord Nkunda in January of this year suggest that Congo and Rwanda have finally found reasons to sue for peace. Congo's weak government and corrupt army are powerless to fight Rwanda or its proxies, and there is desperate need to rebuild the state from scratch. Rwanda, meanwhile, is seeking to placate important European aid donors, who account for as much as half of Rwanda's annual budget and who, for the first time since its initial invasion of Congo in 1996, are asking difficult questions about its behavior there.

As part of the deal that gave Rwandan forces another chance to fight Hutu militias in eastern Congo last spring, Kagame agreed to withdraw Rwanda's support for the Tutsi insurgency in eastern Congo while at the same time pressing Congolese Tutsis to integrate into Congo's national army. Kagame hopes now to find a legal means to sustain Rwanda's economic hold on eastern Congo, for example by promoting civilian business interests in the area. These are often run by ex-military officers or people with close ties to the Rwandan armed forces. In interviews, both Prunier and Lemarchand say that the direct plunder of resources by the Rwandan military has ceased, but that a large "subterranean" trade in minerals has continued through corrupt Congolese politicians and local militias.

For its part, the United States has begun to acknowledge the scale of the problem in eastern Congo. In August, Secretary of State Hillary Clinton paid a two-day visit to the country, during which she described the conflict as driven by "exploitation of natural resources" and announced a $17 million program to help women who have been raped in the fighting.

Notwithstanding these developments, the conflict in the east has been surging again, as the UN-backed Congolese army pursues a new campaign against Hutu rebels.^[8] It is hard to dispute Lemarchand's logic. Without addressing the problems of exclusion and participation, whether in a Rwanda ruled by a small Tutsi minority or in heavily armed eastern Congo, where contending ethnic groups want to get hold of the region's spoils, it will be impossible to end this catastrophe.

—August 25, 2009

Notes

^[1]According to the International Rescue Committee, whose epidemiological studies in Congo use methodology similar to that of studies it has carried out in Iraq and elsewhere.

^[2]See Adam Hochschild's account in these pages, "Rape of the Congo," August 13, 2009.

^[3]Nearly simultaneous permission was granted to Uganda and South Sudan to send their forces into Congolese territory to pursue factions of the Lord's Resistance Army, one of Africa's most vicious rebel groups.

^[4]Reports of RPF killings first surfaced, briefly, in a 1994 report by a UN investigator, Robert Gersony, who concluded that RPF insurgents had murdered between 25,000 and 45,000 people. Under pressure from the United States, the Gersony report was never released.

^[5]In his recent book, Journey into Darkness: Genocide in Rwanda, Thomas Odom, a former US military attaché to Kigali, writes that the Kibeho massacre did not undermine US support for the Rwandan government. "The bottom line was a difficult operation had gone bad, and people had died. I put the casualties at around two thousand," he wrote. "Yet the United States did not suspend foreign assistance—just barely restarted—as did the Belgians, the Dutch, and the European Union. Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense Vince Kern passed word to me that our report had saved the day." See Journey into Darkness (Texas A&M University Press, 2005), pp. 229–230.

^[6]Howard W. French, A Continent for the Taking: The Tragedy and Hope of Africa (Knopf, 2004), p. 142.

^[7]In his self-published manuscript on the events, In the Aftermath of Genocide: The US Role in Rwanda (iUniverse, 2005), Gribbin discounts this number, writing that "some would die in fighting, some would succumb to their terrible living conditions and to abuses by rebel forces, but 300,000 killed? Never." Nonetheless Gribbin acknowledges that serious efforts at investigation were blocked.

^[8]See Stephanie McCrummen, "A Conflict's Deadly Ripple Effects," The Washington Post, August 2, 2009.