Rape – a weapon of war

A young girl is tied up in the bushes, at the side of the road, a piece of wood pushed into her. A woman hears her moan in pain, unties her, and starts to carry her towards the road. Then men appear from the undergrowth, soldiers, they beat the woman, Christine, and take their turns raping her. Watching this scene are a group of women, all rape victims themselves, who had been on the way to receive medical treatment, led by Christine. When the soldiers took off they left her bleeding heavily, her arm and leg swollen; the girl, whose wedding was just days away, was dead.

Christine is a rape counsellor and human rights activists from the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), a country to this day beleaguered by the systematic rape of women. The episode by the roadside was the second time Christine was raped, the first time was when armed fighters broke into her house in September 2002 and killed her husband. They also raped her two young daughters.

Yet her story is not a rare occurrence, in North Kivu province alone 350 rapes are reported every month according to UN figures – how many go unreported is not known. The Geneva convention defines war crimes as a “disproportionate act against a civilian” used far and wide as a means to suppress and demoralise the population, to scare them into submission, mass rape is extremely effective and not just in the DCR.

“It minimises injuries to soldiers,” says Heather Harvey, Amnesty International’s Campaign Manager for Stop Violence Against Women. “You don’t even use a single bullet.” Soldiers rape women in front of their own mothers and fathers, force men to rape their own daughters, sons their own mothers and men other men. “It’s demeaning, disempowering,” adds Harvey, “it means people cannot regroup as they can’t even look each other into the eye.”

Being subject to sexual violence stigmatises women, they are ostracised by society, left by their husbands. “The men are supposed to be in control of the family, be the protectors,” explains Harvey.

“When they can’t protect their women, they feel very, very emasculated. They are shamed themselves [as] they haven’t been able to prevent it happening and very often will want to ascribe it to something else, that somehow it was beyond their control, that somehow the woman was complicit, must have done something to provoke it.

“Having said that, there are some rare instances when men stand by the women,” she adds, in reference to proactive campaigns by men in Liberia and Darfur. “The men got courage from women and their outspokenness.”

Outspokenness is common among female activists, most of whom have been raped themselves, who don’t just support fellow victims by getting them the medical and pastoral care they need, but also openly criticise police and community leaders, calling them out on their duties and responsibilities. However, this outspokenness often comes at a price: Justine Bahamba, who coordinates a women’s rights organisation in North Kivu is regularly threatened, on one occasion soldiers forced their way into her house but found her gone, so they tied up her six children, one soldier beat up her eldest daughter while a second attempted to rape another of her daughters. When that failed he sexually assaulted her with a knife instead.

“It’s not about women all [being] victims,” says Harvey, “it’s about women [being] active agents, actively involved and taking action themselves. They’re facing extreme difficulties, abuse and threats, but they’re prepared to keep fighting and stand up for it and that should be inspiring to people.”

Even when rapes are reported to police however, the perpetrators often go without punishment. Victims have to pay for policemen to see them, they have to pay to have their statement taken, they have to pay for the officer to leave his office and investigate, they even have to buy paper and pens for the statement to be taken. “[Rapists] face complete impunity, you can run into him at market day and he will flirt with you.”

“Corruption is a huge, huge challenge,” says Harvey, “and I don’t think we really get the answers to that apart from when you see individuals like Justine holding the police to account and when you see people doing really quite simple activism like going in [to the police station] with a camera and confronting people. If that police officer is asking for money when you try and get your case heard, you have that on record somewhere and I think keeping a record [is crucial] and bringing these things to light and being able to really put a spotlight on it, but it needs resources as well because corruption is also driven by poverty.”

But even a conviction is no guarantee of punishment; in April 2006 seven men were convicted to life imprisonment for a collective rape in December 2003, yet they escaped prison, as is so common in the DCR, and remain at large.

Rape has been used in conflicts across the centuries, “people think rape happens because men [fighting during conflicts] need to release their testosterone… let off steam,” says Harvey, condemning these ideas as ‘myths’ because “rape is purely about power and abuse and that is what it is.”

She adds: ”The thing with violence against women is that it touches people quite personally because we all have to question ourselves and our own attitudes and ask ourselves those questions: Why is this happening, why do we think it’s OK to use rape in war, why is it happening on such a large scale, why is it increasing, why is it happening with impunity?

“What is rotten in our societies and our attitudes and our culture – that’s every culture – what is rotten in our culture that we can allow this to happen, that this can take root.”

According to Harvey, while prosecution is important, prevention “is what you really need to look at… that’s where you have to recognise that there is an inequality between men and women, there is discrimination and that is what feeds and enables violence against women. That’s a very challenging message to take on board and in part if it’s men in power, which it very often is, they don’t necessarily want to go there and deal with that. You’re talking about a root and branch reform to how we grow up, how we learn masculinity, femininity, machismo, how we learn our cultures and values.”

Of course rapes can have additional long-term consequences, as it is not uncommon for women to fall pregnant by their rapists. ‘Rape babies’ face a stigma similar to that of their mothers, are ostracised by society, abducted by armies to serve as slave labourers or become ‘army wives’ used for sex and cleaning by officers. Some become soldiers themselves, forced to commit atrocities to “bind them deeper” to the army.

“These children themselves are very traumatised and alienated and isolated. People are often frightened of them because it has subverted everything childhood should be about. A lot of children are accused of being possessed by the devil, of being witches, because people can’t rationalise how they could have done such terrible things, rape their own mothers, stab or mutilate people.

“They’re cast aside, have to go through bizarre exorcism-type rituals, they will be murdered or left on the streets.”

However even here the positivity and empowerment of women shines through. “The women have been tremendous,” says Harvey, “they say ‘Well, it’s not the child’s fault, I can still make it into a good child, I can still look after it’

“Yes, they will look at it and always remember it was a rape but they make it their child.”
Ultimately, it is this positive, constructive attitude of the Congolese activists that fuels their campaign. They refuse to be victimised, and continue to help others, despite the threat of violence and repeated rape.

“[Stopping violence against women] is going to take decades and certainly won’t happen in my lifetime, and we need everybody to be fighting on this for years to come. Not just in Congo, [we need to] actually tackle those attitudes that enable and tolerate and turn a blind eye to violence against women. It’s a long, slow process.”

Meet the cast:

FARDC – the Democratic Republic of Congo national armed forces
CNDP – National Congress for the Defence of the People, an armed political group, protecting Tutsi ethnic minorities from race motivated attacks
FDLR – Democratic Liberation Forces of Rwanda, insurgents who fled from Rwanda following the genocide in 1994, including soldiers responsible for the genocide of hundred thousands of Tutsi; alleged to have been supported by the Congolese army and government
Mayi-Mayi – ethnic militia fundamentally opposed to CNDP

All the groups above have frequently been involved in fighting since the official end of the Second Congo War in 2003, at the expense of the civilian population. Soldiers from all groups have been accused of rape.