Part 1 of this article: Music activism: Democracy, Crisis, and the Moral Imperative in the USA and Rwanda (and Why I Play Music on the Street in Rwanda) P.1
“…Since my audience and I are so foreign to own another, I will enjoy the ability to be reactive and interactive with new people and unpredictable surroundings…” – Text and photos by Jeremy Danneman (Parade Of One)
Note by editor: this article was posted in Parade of One on
The political climate in Rwanda seems very hard to relate to as a contemporary American. But while I’m on this subject of escaping old perspectives and taking new ones, I’d like to examine a time when, like Rwanda, we too were troubled to the point of violence by internal divisions. I have related to the Genocide against the Tutsi before, as the grandson of Holocaust survivors, but now I also feel that as an American, the post-conflict condition of Rwanda might be compared to our own Reconstruction era, after we fought against ourselves in the Civil War from 1861 to 1865. It was a time when we were a nation full of victims and perpetrators and every stripe and color of moral ambiguity in between. I am drawing no parallel or moral equivalency between Rwanda’s Hutu and Tutsi and the North and South in the USA, or any combination thereof. Furthermore, one of the worst and, perhaps, most common mistakes my readers will make is that I am comparing Rwandans and American slaves just because they share a skin color. In fact, the only similarity I seek to point out between contemporary Rwanda and Reconstruction era America is that in both cases, we learn that for peace to be maintained, hearts and minds must change. New perspectives of who we and our neighbors are must be formed. We will conclude that there are drastic dips, turns, and other fluctuations in the way we have perceived and administered democracy and the electoral process. Elections cannot always enforce the moral imperative. The electoral process, despite being designed to promote the moral imperative, at times can also thwart it. Adolf Hitler, after all, was an elected official. There is no particular recipe for the democratic protection of collective morality. Different times and circumstances call for different methods.
One of the premises of the US Civil War was the Confederacy’s insistence on the system of slavery, an institution that flies in the face of democracy’s central tenets, such as the equality of people. Yet there was a time when people would risk their lives to maintain slavery and the lifestyle it afforded them. There were other economic interests which also caused the war, but abolitionism was a very popular cause, and it is hypothesized that Lincoln could not have gained public support for the war without embracing the end of slavery as a goal.
The aftermath of the US Civil War, or what is known as the Reconstruction era, saw still more assaults on our current notion of democracy, despite the abolition of slavery. If we take a look at Abraham Lincoln’s Ten Percent Plan we will see that he introduced such ominous sounding concepts as loyalty oaths. Indeed if a southern state was to be re-introduced into the Union, approximately ten percent of the population was required to publicly take an oath of allegiance to the US and pledge to abide by emancipation. In addition to the assault on the great American value of free expression, what also stands out is that ten percent seems like such a small number. Many Northerners, more radical than Lincoln, thought this was way too lenient, but Lincoln saw the necessity of utilizing a concept which we still consider a cornerstone of democracy: compromise. Lincoln feared that a harsher policy would result in the southern states fighting back against emancipation, that pushing the advancement of racial equality in the USA could cause a regression to regional warfare.
As we will see, compromise, however democratic it sounds, did not suit the freed slaves so well. Far worse than the assault on free expression by the northern victors against the conquered south, were the anti-democratic laws enacted in the South to keep emancipated slaves as subservient as possible. Jim Crow policies enforced a separate educational system for blacks and restricted their voting rights. Southern states enacted laws, including the prohibition of farm ownership for African Americans, which compelled them to a life of servitude, even if they were no longer technically owned by anyone. There was strong popular resentment about Jim Crow, but American leaders felt obligated to compromise with the southern states for the sake of regional peace, even if it was at the expense of racial equality. Indeed, the moral stance of equal rights for everyone was lost, in favor of the moral case for regional harmony. Citing the democratic principle of compromise, leaders abandoned the also democratic principle of equality. It took a century after emancipation for Jim Crow to be abolished. Now racial discrimination is illegal in schools, workplaces, and the electoral system. But the socioeconomic legacy of such policies are still evident across the nation. The inequalities are visible from neighborhood to neighborhood in US cities, and our justice system has not yet found a proper response to those inequalities, evident in the disproportionate number of African Americans who serve time in prison.
We will never know if a tougher stance against racial inequality during the Reconstruction era would have shortened our long term struggle for harmony, or if it would have inflamed into a resumption of the killings we had just endured in the Civil War, or if there was 
some completely different way we could have approached our nation’s difficulties. What’s sure is that the electoral process and other democratic principles like compromise did not fully promote a moral society.
Now Rwanda, not even a generation removed from its great trauma of ethnic division and genocide, is forced to make choices about how democracy and equality will take hold. Even though I am not publicly endorsing a particular candidate in the 2010 Rwandan presidential election, I’d still like to let my USA readers know a little about who the main players are, and what the issues are. Hopefully to my Rwandan readers, my reporting will appear neutral, moral, and brief. I am not trying to confirm that the candidates really deserve credit where it is given to them or that the accusations flung at them are true or false. Readers who seek to form an educated opinion will need to do much more research.
The Rwandan constitution calls for elections every seven years. The incumbent for the 2010 race for president is RPF leader Paul Kagame. He is credited for having led the RPF in ending the genocide, and under his rule, a strict policy of reconciliation between Hutu and Tutsi has been implemented. It is illegal to promote the Hutu Power ideology. Historical revisionism of the 1994 genocide and incitement along ethnic, political, and religious affiliation are all outlawed, based on the model of Europe’s successful response to the Holocaust. Kagame has also adhered to policies ending graft and promoting development and poverty reduction. It is said that the economy has tripled in size during his rule. He is also praised for being a fierce proponent of gender equality and the environment.
Kagame’s critics say he has maintained a justice system which is not well-regulated and harsh towards impoverished minors and orphans. His policy of reconciliation is criticized by Tutsi for going easy on Hutu war criminals, while he is disliked by Hutu Power sympathizers simply for being a Tutsi. Also, he has cracked down on anti-RPF media and has been intolerant of political opposition. Finally, he is also accused of looting Congolese natural resources, while sending Rwandan troops to defend against Hutu Power militia that fled across the border.
The most controversial candidate is Victoire Ingabire Umuhoza. She is the chairperson of the Unified Democratic Forces (FDU,) a coalition of opposition parties, formed mostly in Europe and North America. Her background is in accounting, but she retired to pursue a political career. In January 2010, she returned to Rwanda after 16 years in exile. Her stated agenda is the continued democratization of Rwanda and to foster an atmosphere where a person’s political associations are not tied to their ethnic backgrounds.
Ingabire has been criticized for denying the Genocide against the Tutsi and inciting ethnic tensions. The current government has not allowed her to officially register the FDU party, and has confiscated her passport. The charges against her include helping to form armed Hutu Power groups in the Congo to attack Rwanda. Prior to her candidacy, it is said that Ingabire’s family members were convicted of crimes related to the 1994 genocide. She is also accused of publicly expressing sympathy for imprisoned genocide convicts. If Ingabire is convicted of the charges that she has denied the genocide, she could face up to twenty years in prison.
Another candidate is Dr. Jean Damascene Ntawukuriryayo of the Social Democratic Party (PSD.) His party backed Kagame in 2003. He has emphasized the fight against the ideology of genocide. He also has a good record combating the HIV epidemic, having experience working in the Ministry of Health. His critics say he is too closely aligned with Kagame to truly be considered opposition.
There is also Prosper Higiro of the Liberal Party (PL.) The former Minister of Commerce promises to address a host of economic concerns if elected, including the import-export deficit and the population growth crisis.
Upon reflecting on democracy in times of crisis in the USA and Rwanda, I would like to suggest that there must be more to democracy than just elections. It is not just the choice of one person over another person that makes people free. Democracy is something we must live, through the choices that we make. Government is a tightrope walk, balancing the powers that be with moral and practical needs. But making choices and taking initiatives is not just something elected officials can do; we private individuals must also act. When we fulfill our obligation to vote, we are trusting representatives to reflect our values, but when we act directly in the society around us, we are truly putting our stamp on world affairs. The electoral process is vital to democracy, but it alone cannot create the immense social change that times might call for.
Democracy is what John Newton, an English slave trader, was doing when he rejected slavery and became an abolitionist in the late 1700s; along his spiritual journey, he wrote Amazing Grace, a hymn sung all over the world to this day. Democracy is what Abel Meeropol, a Jewish school teacher from the Bronx, was doing when he wrote Strange Fruit, a protest song made famous by Billie Holiday about the lynching of African Americans, a situation to which he was a complete outsider but felt compelled to speak out against. Democracy is what Rwandan inanga player and singer Sophie Nzayisenga is doing when she expresses herself through the joy of music, despite the horrors of Rwanda’s past. Democracy is what the first jazz musicians like Louis Armstrong and Sydney Bechet were doing when they decided not to follow the score but to improvise, using a more open means to a new and unknown ending.
When I perform on the street in Rwanda this summer, I plan to improvise a lot. I hold a very expansive view of improvisation. Not only will I abstain from playing much pre-composed music, but the whole concept of the parade, that my performance is mobile, will place trust in new and unpredictable settings, leaving even the seemingly secondary details of music, such as staging and audience, open to chance and improvisation. Since my audience and I are so foreign to own another, I will enjoy the ability to be reactive and interactive with new people and unpredictable surroundings. Following a score, would create definition in an environment and method that begs for redefinition, from both performer and audience. When we play or act a predetermined score or script, both on stage and in life, we reduce the possibility of a new and better outcome to our efforts. My hope is that by playing music in Rwanda I will help myself and others escape old mindsets and feel closer to neighbors near and far, perhaps even forging new identities that negate the hatreds, victimization, and guilt of the past.
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