Years after the unthinkable violence experienced by victims of the Rwandan genocide, a survey found that of over 2,000 survivors, 26.1% fit diagnostic criteria for post-traumatic stress disorder.[1] These numbers indicate the necessity for a more comprehensive understanding of how victims of trauma can be guided to a path of genuine healing. As members of a predominately Christian country, many Rwandans turned to their religious faith to handle their loss and the new reality that they now faced. Christian narratives of healing often present forgiveness as a means of unburdening the self from pain in the name of promoting peace. One scholar whose work largely centers on forgiveness and reconciliation in the Christian tradition is the Croatian theologian Miroslav Volf. Volf frames forgiveness as a unique gift to be granted to perpetrators of violence and cruelty. In addition to this Christian perception of forgiveness are psychological understandings like Robert Enright’s, which place larger emphasis on the process of forgiveness itself. In Christian populations facing traumatic circumstances and large-scale conflict, faith can influence the decision to pursue the path to forgiveness. Making the decision to forgive the perpetrator of traumatic violence can ultimately increase resilience and hope, and alleviate the mental health symptoms that plague many survivors of traumatic events.
Christian and Psychological Models of Forgiveness
Christian theologians often take care to make a clear distinction between forgiveness and reconciliation. Forgiveness can be framed as a decision on the part of the victim to “deliberately [give] up resentment toward an offender in the context of a deep, personal, and unfair hurt.”[2] In this definition, forgiveness appears to be largely one-sided, with no indication of a dialogue between the involved parties. Clergy members in a 2005 study by Ann Macaskill claimed that forgiveness is “about grace.”[3] To these clergy members, “Christian forgiveness takes place whether or not the forgiver feels compassion and whether or not the forgiven responds.”[4] These members of the clergy frame Christian forgiveness not necessarily as compassion toward the perpetrator, but as an “intentional and voluntary commitment to put aside any desire for vengeance.”[5] From their Christian perspective, forgiveness incorporating reconciliation suggests a communion between victim and perpetrator in which the two sides “have worked to overcome the trauma of division in the interests of co-existence, cooperation, and even communion.”[6] According to Robert Schreiter, forgiveness is a process initiated by God in the victim. It is “the new creation of both victim and wrongdoer”[7] and through it, “God gives us back the humanity that was wrested from us.”[8] Drawing on the specific example of reconciliation observed by priest and journalist André Sibomana following the Rwandan conflict, Emmanuel Katongole and Chris Rice describe reconciling as “killers and their victims’ family members taking a break from their common work to drink banana beer from the same cup.”[9] These interpretations emphasize that the Christian understanding of forgiveness and reconciliation is rooted in a desire for peace and coexistence among God’s people. In choosing to forgive another person and take these crucial steps towards reconciliation, Christian theology encourages a rebirth “as parts are woven together into something new that is neither hegemonic nor imperialistic but grounded in God’s vision for humanity.”[10] Croatian theologian Miroslav Volf recognizes this Christian belief in renewal through forgiveness and reconciliation and sets a framework for utilizing these processes to promote peace.
Volf provides context for the Christian understanding of forgiveness and reconciliation within the greater reality of the often discouragingly turbulent modern world in his book, Exclusion and Embrace. Volf introduces a framework of exclusion and embrace. To establish the dichotomy between these two terms, Volf describes the primary human flaw as the perception that “otherness,” or being different in some way, is evil.[11] Volf argues that the danger of distrusting otherness is that it often leads to an “us” vs. “them” mentality, which forms the basis of exclusion.[12] Exclusion can drive humans to commit unthinkable acts of cruelty including mass genocides and ethnic killings that force us to question our innate sense of humanity.[13] Exclusion masks as the “pursuit of false purity,”[14] or the belief by perpetrators of violence that their cruelty is justified as a means of bettering the world. From this viewpoint, instigators of violence often justify their actions by building a narrative that the “other” is impure and sinful. To remedy the hatred of exclusion, Volf encourages Christians to combat this vicious pursuit and instead live in Christ’s image by adopting an attitude of treating the “other” with “embrace,”[15] with wholehearted acceptance. Volf argues that victims and perpetrators need to be active participants in this peacemaking effort because both perceive their opponent as the “other,” and “at the heart of the cross is Christ’s stance of not letting the other remain an enemy and of creating space in himself for the offender to come in.”[16] Volf maintains that even if we fundamentally perceive the other as being in the wrong, “at the core of the Christian faith lies the persuasion that the ‘others’ need not be perceived as innocent in order to be loved, but ought to be embraced even when they are perceived as wrongdoers.”[17] This is to say that it is the duty of a Christian to live in Christ’s image and provide love and forgiveness, regardless of differences held by the out-group. This is reflected in the story of the Good Samaritan in Luke 10: 25-37, in which a Samaritan finds an injured traveler lying by the side of the road. The Samaritan takes pity on the victim and cares for him, eventually bringing him to an inn and providing for him as he recovers. Throughout the story, no mention of the victim or of the Samaritan’s social status or background is made; this may be intentional to demonstrate that ultimately, it does not matter. Jesus’s message is one of unconditional love; regardless of earthly divisions, we are all called to care and provide for each other as the Samaritan did for the Levite - without question. This then forms the basis of Volf’s understanding of Christian forgiveness and reconciliation. Forgiveness is not restricted by conditions or desire for vengeance; it must be freely given to free oneself and move towards reconciliation. Jesus did not view forgiveness and reconciliation as a debt owed by either side, but as a duty held by all those involved in conflict and chance to unburden oneself from hatred and sorrow and as a chance to promote peace among God’s people. This concept of unburdening is one that carries over into psychological perceptions of forgiveness.
The secular psychological definition of forgiveness has notable differences from the Christian theological understanding. The field of psychology typically frames forgiveness as an “emotional, cognitive, and behavioral decision- but personal- to move beyond offense toward a merciful narrative of the offender.”[18] In both the psychological and Christian definitions, forgiveness is a decision reached with the goal of easing the pain that trauma has caused. The definitions differ, however, in the type of peace they focus on achieving. Whereas the Christian understanding draws upon scripture and the idea of building God’s kingdom through reconciliation with others, psychological definitions focus primarily on the care of the victims themselves. In the psychological view, reconciliation with the offender is less of a necessity; if the victim chooses to pursue this path for the sake of their own process, they are welcome to, but the pretense that both parties should engage is mostly removed. This signifies that while Christian tradition pursues forgiveness with the goal of achieving a more external peace among communities and between individuals, psychological interpretations center on the victim reaching inner peace as part of their journey to healing.[19] The psychologist Robert Enright suggests a more clearly outlined, step-by-step process to guide this journey.
Enright’s work centers on a four-step process model of psychological forgiveness. Enright’s presentation of this model is paired with a few key tenets that tie back into the discussion of psychological definitions of forgiveness. He makes clear that genuinely forgiving another human being does not mean that the victim must forget that their trauma happened.[20] Forgiveness should in no way involve denying the event or refusing to pursue justice. Enright signals the idea that "forgiveness need not- and sometimes ought not- result in reconciliation."[21] This psychological model of forgiveness is not a call to make amends with the perpetrator, as this can sometimes cause a victim to fall back into interacting with an untrustworthy offender, which may be painful and potentially damaging to mental health. Enright’s first phase of forgiveness is dubbed the “uncovering phase.”[22] This is a phase of confrontation, in which the victim reflects on their own life to see how it has been impacted by their personal responses to the traumatic event.[23] The second phase, known as the “decision phase,” is one in which the victim considers what forgiveness truly means to them and makes the decision to start taking steps towards forgiving their offender.[24] This decision must be arrived at freely, “although there are many religious, spiritual and cultural commandments or mandates to forgive an offender.”[25] In the third phase, the “work phase,” the victim, taking care not to forget that the offense did occur, attempts to reframe their view of the situation and the perpetrator to humanize them and approach the process with a deeper understanding.[26] In the final phase, the “deepening phase,” the victim “finds increasing meaning in the suffering, feels more connected with others, and experiences decreased negative affect and, at time, renewed purpose in life.”[27] The effects of this final phase are a manifestation of the positive general and mental health-related outcomes of forgiveness.[28] In forgiving, whether informed by religious, psychological, or other personal views, those involved must be given the chance to contextualize their trauma in the greater story of their lives and pursue a fresh start. Learning how to incorporate these different views of forgiveness may be useful in helping survivors of large-scale conflict, such as the Rwandan genocide, learn how to begin healing from mental trauma.
The History of the Rwandan Genocide
Political tensions gave rise to the horrific violence of the Rwandan genocide. The two major groups present in Rwanda during the late 1800s were the Hutu and the Tutsi.[29] The Tutsi-Hutu hierarchy had come to resemble a caste system by the 1960s in which the “Tutsi referred to the land-owning aristocracy and the Hutu to the landless peasantry.”[30] The country’s colonization by Germans, then Belgians in the early 1900s caused the labeling of particular groups within Rwandan society as the other, encouraging the very act of “exclusion” that Volf warned against. Though the separation of the Tutsi and the Hutu was apparent prior to colonialization, “racist Belgian colonial policies exacerbated Rwandan social tensions”[31] and drew much clearer lines in status between the two groups. Because of their status as the aristocratic “caste” of Rwanda, the Tutsi were favored by the European colonists.[32] In the mid-20th century, the Belgian government made the decision to grant independence to Rwanda and switched loyalty to the Hutu community, which still made up the majority of the population.[33] The rising power of the Hutu allowed their leaders to dominate most aspects of Rwandan political life and to persecute the Tutsi, causing tens of thousands of Rwandans to leave the country. Initially, peacekeeping efforts by the Tutsi-led Rwandan Patriot Front (RPF) and the United Nations seemed successful on the surface, but internal tensions and the formation of Hutu militia groups suggested that more violence was on its way.[34] In 1990, Tutsis exiled in South Uganda and operating under the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) orchestrated an attack on Rwanda, leading to a three-year long civil war that further amplified Tutsi-Hutu tensions.[35] Finally, in 1994, a plane crash that killed Rwandan president and Hutu ally Juvénal Habyarimana sparked an ethnic war in which the Tutsi were the primary targets.[36] A report by the Rwandan government in the aftermath of the tragedy stated that of the 1,074,017 killed during the genocide, 93.7% were Tutsi.[37] These numbers, though nearly unfathomable, force us to confront the reality of the extent of human cruelty, and raise the question of whether genuine forgiveness can always be granted. Further complications arise when considering the complex role that Christian institutions played during the genocide.
As citizens of a predominately Christian country, Rwandans place a large emphasis on their faith in their daily lives. Many Christian clergy members were complicit in the killings. Over 90% of Rwandans identify as Christian, with the large majority practicing Roman Catholicism.[38] Tutsis often felt safe to seek sanctuary on church grounds when being hunted down by their oppressors. In many circumstances, this decision proved to be deadly. One such example was Ntarama Church, where Tutsis living in the nearby village of Ntarama went to seek refuge from Hutu attacks.[39] In previous attacks, they had heard that the Hutu had chosen to pass by religious sites out of respect, so they believed they would be safe and protected. The Interahamwe militia asked that the gathered Tutsi stay together, promising protection from the government if they did.[40] The locals, fearing for their lives if they left the compound, agreed. Just two days later, members of the militia returned to the Church and proceeded to systematically kill over 5,000 Tutsis assembled at Ntarama.[41] The especially brutal stories that came from this site, of children being bashed against walls until they died because militia members “did not want to waste their bullets,”[42] or of still-living pregnant women being cut open because the attackers “wanted to see how an unborn baby Tutsi looks,”[43] caused fear and disillusionment of the Church in Rwanda. In cases like Ntarama, the Church’s role in the genocide was characterized by a passivity that allowed for desecration of what was once a holy space. In other cases, the Church and its members played a more direct role. Father Athanase Seromba is a Rwandan priest currently serving a life sentence for betraying his own congregation during the genocides.[44] Father Seromba, who had “baptized the children trapped them inside the church, as well as people to whom he preached every Sunday,”[45] instructed the Hutu militia to bulldoze the church, trapping and killing over 3,000 members of his congregation inside. At the massacre in Kirinda, church leaders were essential in organizing roadblocks and patrols that prevented Tutsi individuals from escaping.[46] While many clergy members of Christian communities in Rwanda showed heroism in their defense, and spiritual guidance of the victims and survivors of the massacre, stories of cruelty like the ones from Ntarama and Sainte-Famille are hard to ignore. For many survivors, the tragedy experienced at the hands of the Church caused mental illness.
Mental Health Implications and the Role of the Church
The mental health implications from witnessing violence are incredibly far-ranging. One disorder often encountered following violent conflict is posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Although typically associated with war veterans, PTSD is also often observed in other groups, such as victims of sexual abuse, car crash survivors, and survivors of other violent conflict, like those in Rwanda following the genocide. A few key symptoms guide the diagnosis of PTSD, including flashbacks to the event, avoidance of objects or situations that remind one of the trauma, emotional numbness, and hyperarousal in response to trauma-associated environments.[47] These symptoms are troubling as they are being experienced; they also impair the affected individual’s ability to function in everyday life. Avoidance can prevent a victim from participating in essential everyday activities, including work.[48] Emotional numbness is characterized by “diminished responsiveness to the external world, feeling of detachment from other people, or having a marked inability to feel emotions.”[49] This detachment may be a natural response to trauma that, if not addressed, can significantly impair victims’ relationships with their loved ones as well as their ability to trust others. This is especially detrimental to the healing process, as social well-being is a positive contributor to general mental and physical health. An inability to trust also impedes the process of rehabilitation. If the traumatized individual constantly fears for their safety and worries about revictimization, the chance of success in restoring their mental health by any means is low. PTSD also often exists with other comorbidities, such as depression and anxiety.[50] Symptoms of depression include feelings of worthlessness and loss of interest or pleasure in most activities, and may lead to suicidal thoughts; anxiety disorders can lead to restlessness and rumination.[51] The implications of these disorders, especially when experienced simultaneously, can be disastrous to the long-term well-being of individuals who are already struggling to cope with the memories of the violence they have experienced. Studies have found that Rwandans who were affected by the genocides are disproportionately affected by these mental illnesses.
Mental Health Outcomes in Post-Genocide Rwanda
In the aftermath of the genocide, Rwandans were faced with a host of questions about their own identities that sparked widespread mental health crises. Betrayed by their government, their neighbors, and even the Church, these survivors found themselves lost. The previously mentioned study, which discovered a 26.1% prevalence of PTSD in a subset of 2,000 genocide survivors, found that of those suffering from post-traumatic stress, 80% showed diagnosable symptoms of at least one psychiatric comorbidity, including depression, generalized anxiety disorder, and substance abuse.[52] Depressive symptoms and symptoms of PTSD “were strongly associated with functional impairment in performing most daily life tasks.”[53] These impairments were characterized by insomnia and the inability to feel pleasure, and were often associated with other health risk behaviors like smoking and drug abuse.[54]
The Rwandan genocide also had mental health implications on groups outside of traditionally perceived survivors. While less readily considered, perpetrators of the violence were also affected. During the peak of the genocide, the killings became so widespread that certain individuals may have felt pressured to partake to ensure their own safety. Scott Straus points to the fact that many perpetrators in Rwanda were ordinary men who had not partaken in violent acts before the genocide.[55] Many of these génocidaires were simply people who feared for their own lives, not individuals with fundamentally evil intentions.[56] This pressure to partake in violence often came from other Hutus, who posed the threat of punishment against those who did not comply with their ideologies.[57] Participating in violence against civilians may have also created a sense of safety from fear of retribution by the Tutsi rebels.[58] Straus suggests that for some perpetrators, choosing to partake in violence may have been a matter of “simply hav[ing] been at the wrong place at the wrong time.”[59] If one was not predisposed to violence and had no true desire to partake, killing another human being could cause massive trauma because it “initially elicits a feeling of horror (due to the full realization of the act) and as a consequence a feeling of helplessness (as the act cannot be undone).”[60] While studies have found that PTSD is less frequent in perpetrators than in survivors who directly witnessed the killings, one study found that 41% of perpetrators interviewed suffered from clinically diagnosable depression.[61]
Those children who are the products of genocidal rape also bear serious mental health issues. It is estimated that somewhere from 10,000 to 25,000 of these “war children” were born in Rwanda following the genocides.[62] These children, while blameless for their own circumstances, are often stigmatized and alienated within their communities.[63] Often, the abuse comes from their own parents. In one interview of children born of genocidal rape in Rwanda, a young woman revealed that “she [the mother] told me that I was ugly when I was born.”[64] The mothers who experienced sexual violation, who we more traditionally consider the victims of the genocide, carry over their mental trauma into their interactions with their children. Relationships with the mothers’ husbands are often strained and abusive as well. One male interview respondent stated that “my stepfather was beating me, hurting me, and calling me a bastard.”[65] Along with discrimination from the people around them, these children often hold an internal sense of guilt that is deeply rooted in their identity. Deprived of love from their own parents and the community that should be supporting them, these children feel rejected. Another participant in the study reflected on his life, explaining to interviewers that the isolation from his community and the personal guilt “causes you to lose your self-confidence, and you feel like nothing, and life has no sense. While others are building their futures, you are just there asking yourself: ‘Why and why?’”[66] The loss of identity in these individuals has been associated with poor interpersonal relationships and epigenetic transmission of maternal PTSD.[67] This often unconsidered population of Rwandans whose identities are deeply rooted in the genocide suggests that the conflict caused trauma far beyond what is immediately considered. The widespread implications of the genocide on mental health in those associated with post-conflict Rwanda and the diverse populations affected make the challenge of recovery uniquely difficult. The role of the Church further complicates these concerns.
In 2017, more than two decades after the Rwandan genocide, Pope Francis asked for forgiveness for the complicit role of the Catholic Church. Despite the Pope’s efforts, many local Rwandan clergy were much less willing to admit some of the failures of the institution seen throughout the genocide. Some went so far as to deny the mass killings that occurred in local churches, stating that “‘the genocide was not as bad as you remember.’”[68] This response, along with the fact that many clergy members who showed complacency during the killings gave sermons on reconciliation and forgiveness, served to traumatize many individuals yet again.[69] To these individuals, many of whom placed much of the blame for the genocide on the Church, the denial and flippant sermons trivialized the suffering they endured. For many, the offense was so great that they struggled to return to their religious faith following the genocides. The feeling of separation from what was once such a crucial part of their identities was often a major component of their trauma responses. One study discovered that Catholic survivors of the genocide who experienced PTSD symptoms noted that the “change of sacred spaces and objects from sanctuaries and icons that used to feel safe, holy, and historic to images associated with murder, blasphemy, and trauma was an obstacle to their healing.”[70] These survivors found that the Church’s violence had betrayed their previous image of the institution, and it became incredibly difficult to move beyond this injustice.[71] While individual perpetration may appear far more personal and is often more immediately considered in trauma, institutional perpetration can inflict a deeper sense of betrayal and hurt.[72] Societal institutions are often tied directly to individuals’ sense of purpose and identity. To have one’s foundational beliefs shaken may provoke traumatization. Forgiveness may help such individuals, like the survivors of the Rwandan genocide, begin the path of recovery.
The Decision to Forgive and Implications on Mental Health
Following the Rwandan genocide, any chance of true peace and unity in the country seemed unfathomable. In the wake of tragedies such as the genocide, it is often easier to immediately place blame and choose not to forgive perpetrators, which in turn can lead to complications in physical and mental health. If we return for a moment to the psychological and Christian models of forgiveness, it is important to remember the common unburdening they signify. Unburdening can be effective in environments like post-genocide Rwanda, where trauma and other mental health complications remain rampant. A study conducted in 2012 found that positive correlations exist between reconciliation and mental health.[73] A willingness to pursue the path to forgiveness is associated with a reduction in the symptoms of PTSD and other comorbidities, such as sleeping problems, anxiety and negative perception of personal adversities.[74] There are a number of reasons why pursuing forgiveness and reconciliation may produce these results. Choosing to forgive, whether influenced by one’s faith or accomplished through a more systematic approach like Enright’s model, alleviates lasting resentment and anger by allowing victims to distance themselves from negative emotion and focus on positive cognitions. Victims thereby reframe their thoughts in a manner that honors their experience, but seeks to understand the hurt in the greater context of their life. Additionally, forgiveness can strengthen a victim’s resilience so they are better equipped to handle future adversity and turn to adaptive coping skills.[75] Genuine forgiveness has the effect of freeing victims from rumination, or continuous thought on the traumatic event. Rumination prevents victims from finding peace because repeatedly reliving their trauma causes the constant reappearance of anger, anxiety, and depression over the events.[76] In the Christian tradition, which frames reconciliation and forgiveness as a rebirth, choosing to take steps towards harmony within the community and among individuals also functions to increase hope.[77] Hope gives survivors a brighter view of the future; it allows them to realize that there is life beyond their trauma.
Overall, studies of forgiveness interventions in survivors of genocides have found that these reconciliation-based methods of addressing trauma “result in less depression, less anxiety, and more hope- precisely the features needed to make a resilient recovery from a disaster or crisis.”[78] In one study by Suzanne Freedman and Robert Enright, female incest survivors took part in forgiveness interventions, which included sessions with professionals that directly confronted the maladaptive coping behaviors they took on in response to their trauma.[79] These interventions allowed victims to express their anger towards their transgressors and helped them make the conscious decision to work towards forgiveness with the therapists’ assistance.[80] With help, victims were taught to humanize their offenders and reframe their trauma so that they could learn to forgive not only their transgressors, but also themselves.[81] Based on mental health inventories completed before and after the interventions, the researchers found that incest victims who had made the decision to forgive displayed higher self-esteem and hope and lower levels of depression and anxiety. Additional studies involving group forgiveness therapy have found similar results.[82] This indicates that forgiveness interventions could benefit survivors in places like Rwanda, where so many still struggle with the mental health implications caused by their trauma.
In Rwanda, where perpetrators of violence were often the victims’ own neighbors or other members of their community, forgiveness as a contributor to improving mental health symptoms becomes more complicated. Many of the instigators of violence in the genocides have not apologized for their actions, so approaching the rehabilitation of victims in a mostly one-sided manner is a unique challenge. Studies have found that many Rwandans, although wary of the Catholic Church following the genocides, turned to their religious faith to help them achieve forgiveness and healing. This dependence on religious faith came in many forms; some survivors decided that “they ‘don’t need to judge the génocidaires because God will do that.’”[83] In leaving the work of judgment to God, the victims exhibit a forms of unburdening by turning away from earthly judgment and focusing on promoting peace within themselves and among their communities. Religious faith also often ties back to resilience as evident in one survivor who claimed: “I knew how to go with faith and accept the situation and how to live with it. It is because of the faith and trust that helped me to come up to pass through these problems, to live with them, and go on with them.”[84] To many Rwandans like this survivor, religious faith is the stepping-stone to forgiving the perpetrators and achieving inner peace. As previously mentioned, resilience like this typically contributes to the long-term increased mental well-being of those who have suffered from trauma and its residual impacts. The Rwandan conflict stemmed from the very “us vs. them” mentality that Volf encourages us to avoid. Volf’s concept of the pursuit of false purity plays a significant role in the Rwandan conflict. Many of the génocidaires were driven by classist preconceptions of the “other” as evil and corrupt. They became so embroiled in the idea that to be different was dangerous that they began to embody exclusion. Although the atrocities of the genocide can never be taken back, Volf argues that an attitude of embrace must be adopted to allow all those affected to heal. In any situation in which a victim carries the pain of violation and inhumanity, it is important to encourage embrace of the “other” as the Samaritan did with the Levite, or as Jesus did with the “unclean” leper (Mk. 10). With this attitude, those who have been traumatized by their experiences, whether as victim or perpetrator, become privy to God’s healing grace. This call to forgiveness may be something that comes to those who need it naturally, by means of their religious faith. In the case of Rwandans who feel disenfranchised from their religious beliefs, however, it may need to come in the form of a much more gradual, guided process, such as the one delineated by Enright. Given that many perpetrators of violence in Rwanda have yet to apologize for their actions, more flexible models of forgiveness like Enright’s, which prioritize personal over communal peace, may be more effective in rehabilitating traumatized survivors. Without the pressure of reconciliation urged by the Christian understanding, victims may feel more comfortable addressing their personal tragedies and coming to terms with them. Enright’s model of forgiveness is far more systematic and secular than Volf’s, but for traumatized individuals who still desire a connection with their religious faith, the process may not necessarily exclude religious conversation. Instead of being an opponent to improving mental health in traumatized individuals, religious institutions “can offer sources of new knowledge and transformational notions that can enhance forgiveness between human beings and communities.”[85] This suggests that even in Rwanda, where the Catholic Church’s involvement in the violence makes its role in the healing process unclear, religious models of forgiveness can be used to inform more secular recovery efforts.
Conclusion
Although the impacts of genuine forgiveness on trauma survivors are not yet well studied, current information suggests that this might be a viable avenue for rehabilitation of survivors of violence. Many Rwandans found the strength to return to their Christian faith as a means of reaching this place of forgiveness, but for individuals who feel less connected to their religious faith, institutional religion might not be an effective stepping stone. For this reason, numerous models of forgiveness and reconciliation must be considered. Possible models could include reconciliation based theologies that provide a final goal and have a communal aspect like Volf’s; they could also take the form of more clearly outlined, psychologically-informed processes like Enright’s, which place emphasis on the personal progress of the victim. Both are valid models, but either in isolation is insufficient. By understanding more about how individuals interact with the concept of forgiveness we can be better equipped to help in the aftermath of tragedies that leave many mentally unwell and vulnerable.
Naasson Munyandamutsa, Paul Mahoro Nkubamugisha, Marianne Gex-Fabry, and Ariel Eytan, “Mental and physical health in Rwanda 14 years after the genocide,” Social Psychiatry and Psychiatric Epidemiology 47, no. 11 (November 2012): 1753, https://doi.org/10.1007/s00127-012-0494-9.
Suzanne Freedman, “Forgiveness and Reconciliation: The Importance of Understanding How They Differ.” Counseling and values 42, no. 3 (December 2011): 200.
Ann Macaskill, “Defining Forgiveness: Christian Clergy and General Population Perspectives.” Journal of Personality 73, no. 5 (October 2005): 1251, https://doi.org/10.1111.j.14676494.2005.00348.x.
Macaskill, “Christian Clergy,” 1248.
Alan J. Torrance, “Forgiveness and Christian Character: Reconciliation, Exemplarism and the Shape of Moral Theology.” Studies in Christian Ethics 30, no. 3 (August 2017): 294, https://doi.org/10.1177/0953946817701046.
R. L. Petersen, “Is Forgiveness Possible?” The Ecumenical Review 66, no. 2 (July 2017): 177, https://doi.org/10.1111/erev.12098.
Robert J. Schreiter, The Ministry of Reconciliation: Spirituality & Strategies (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1998), 17.
Schreiter, Ministry of Reconciliation, 18.
Emmanuel Katongole and Chris Rice. Reconciling All Things: A Christian Vision for Justice, Peace, and Healing (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2008), 119.
Petersen, “Is Forgiveness Possible?,” 177.
Miroslav Volf, Exclusion & Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 1996), 57.
Volf, Exclusion & Embrace, 57.
Ibid, 57.
Ibid, 57.
Ibid, 58.
Ibid, 74.
Ibid, 126.
Ibid, 85.
Philip M. Sutton, “The Enright Process Model of Forgiveness,” 2, Courage International, accessed August 16, 2020.
Petersen, “Is Forgiveness Possible?,” 179.
Sutton, “Enright.”
Ibid.
Ibid.
Ibid.
Ibid.
Ibid.
Ibid.
Ibid.
Dean White, “An African Holocaust,” History Today, June 1, 2014, 46.
J.J Carney, Rwanda Before the Genocide: Catholic Politics and Ethnic Discourse in the Late Colonial Era (New York: Oxford University Press, 2014), 13.
Carney, Rwanda Before the Genocide, 13.
White, “Holocaust,” 40.
Ibid.
Ibid.
Scott Straus, The Order of Genocide: Race, Power, and War in Rwanda (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2006), 24.
White, “Holocaust,” 43.
“Statistics,” SURF Survivors Fund, accessed October 20, 2020, https://www.newtimes.co.rw/section/read/193499.
J.J. Kritzinger, “The Rwandan Tragedy as Public Indictment of Christian Mission: Missiological reflections of an observer.” Missionalia 24, no. 3 (November 1996): 344.
“Ntarama Memorial,” Genocide Archive of Rwanda, accessed October 16, 2017, https://genocidearchiverwanda.org.rw/index.php/Ntarama_Memorial.
Genocide Archive of Rwanda, “Ntarama Memorial.”
Ibid.
Ibid.
Ibid.
“Seromba, the priest who rolled a bulldozer on his congregation,” The New Times, accessed October 19, 2020, https://www.newtimes.co.rw/section/read/72251/.
The New Times, “Seromba.”
Timothy Longman. Christianity and Genocide in Rwanda (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 292.
Subcommittee on Posttraumatic Stress Disorder. Posttraumatic Stress Disorder: Diagnosis and Assessment (Washington, D.C.: The National Academies Press, 2006), 2.
Subcommittee on Posttraumatic Stress Disorder, Posttraumatic Stress Disorder, 21.
Ibid, 2.
Ibid.
Steven Richards and Michael G. Perry. Depression: A Primer for Practitioners (Thousand Oaks: Sage Publications, 2002), 3.
Munyandamutsa, Nkubamugisha, Gex-Fabry, and Eytan, “14 years,” 1753.
Ibid, 1754.
Ibid, 1759.
Straus, Order of Genocide, 96.
Ibid.
Ibid.
Ibid.
Ibid.
Susan Schaal, Roland Weierstall, Jean-Pierre Dusingizemungu, and Thomas Elbert. “Mental Health 15 Years After the Killings in Rwanda: Imprisoned Perpetrators of the Genocide Against the Tutsi Versus a Community Sample of Survivors.” Journal of Traumatic Stress 25, no. 4 (August 2012): 451, <https://doi.org/ 10.1177/1363461519825683>.
Schaal, Weierstall, Dusingizemungu, and Elbert, “15 years,” 451.
Sarilee Kahn and Myriam Denov. “‘We are children like others’: Pathways to mental health and healing for children born of genocidal rape in Rwanda.” Transcultural Psychiatry 56, no. 3 (June 2019): 512, https://doi.org/10.1177/1363461519825683.
Kahn and Denov, “We are children,” 512.
Ibid, 516.
Ibid, 516.
Ibid, 519.
Ibid, 512.
Nicole Fox, “‘God Must Have Been Sleeping’: Faith as an Obstacle and a Resource for Rwandan Genocide Survivors in the United States,” Journal for the scientific study of religion 51, Include publication year no. 1 (March 2012): 75. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.14685906.2011.01624.x.
Fox, “Faith as an Obstacle,” 75.
Ibid, 72.
Ibid, 72.
Ibid, 72.
Munyandamutsa, Nkubamugisha, Gex-Fabry, and Eytan, “14 years,” 1755.
Ibid.
Everett L. Worthington, Brandon J. Griffin, Loren L. Toussaint, Camilla W. Nonterah, Shawn O. Utsey, and Rachel C. Garthe. “Forgiveness as a Catalyst for Psychological, Physical, and Spiritual Resilience in Disasters and Crises.” Journal of Psychology & Theology 44, no. 2 (June 2016): 152. https://doi.org/10.1177/009164711604400206.
Worthington, Griffin, Toussaint, Nonterah, Utsey, and Garthe, “Spiritual Resilience,” 158.
Ibid.
Ibid, 159.
Suzanne Freedman and Robert D. Enright. “Forgiveness as an intervention goal with incest survivors.” Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology 65, no. 5 (October 1996): 986 https://doi.org/10.1037/0022006X.64.5.983.
Freedman and Enright, “Forgiveness as an intervention goal,” 986.
Ibid, 989.
Brad W. Lundahl, Mary Jane Taylor, Ryan Stevenson, and K. Daniel Roberts. “Process-Based Forgiveness Interventions: A Meta-Analytic Review.” Research on Social Work Practice 18, no. 5 (September 2008): 471, https://doi.org/10.1177/1049731507313979.
Fox, “Faith as an Obstacle,” 70.
Ibid.
Ani Kalayjian and Raymond F. Paloutzian. Forgiveness and Reconciliation: Psychological Pathways to Conflict Transformation and Peace Building (New York: Springer Science+Business Media, 2009), 56.