Had Annan permitted Dallaire to carry out his raids, the genocide might never have taken place. Not only did Annan and Riza twice refuse this, they then sat on his fax. They neither alerted other UN departments nor brought Dallaire’s warnings to the attention of the security council. The council then downsized Unamir from 2,500 troops to around 250. Dallaire stayed on. He helped save thousands of lives but, tormented by memories of those who died, he later became depressed and attempted suicide. He retired in 2000 and is now a senator in the Canadian parliament, active on human-rights issues.
Charge two: Srebrenica
That from July 6 to July 11, 1995, Unprofor, the UN mission in Bosnia, repeatedly failed to authorise air strikes to save the town, despite having the means to do so, and was in grievous breach of its obligations to protect civilians
Srebrenica was one of six “safe areas” under security-council resolutions 819, 824 and 836, passed in 1993. UN commanders could call for Nato air strikes but only to defend themselves. UN officials were obsessed with preserving the UN’s neutrality, over and above its humanitarian obligations. Probably none more so than a Japanese diplomat called Yasushi Akashi.
Akashi was the political chief of Unprofor. On May 7, 1995, the Bosnian Serbs shelled Sarajevo, killing and injuring several people. General Sir Rupert Smith, the British commander of Unprofor in Bosnia, recommended Nato launch an air strike. Akashi withheld permission. He sent a cable to Annan arguing that air strikes might “weaken Milosevic [the Serbian president]”, who he believed was needed to help negotiate a peace settlement. By refusing to make a distinction between aggressor and victim, and by treating both as equal partners, the UN became a de facto ally of those carrying out the atrocities.
Conditions inside Srebrenica were appalling. More than 20,000 people, half-starved and diseased, were jammed into the town. Fleas, cockroaches and vermin flourished. The Bosnian Serbs refused soap and disinfectant for the inhabitants, and fuel and ammunition for UN peacekeepers. “There was no support from Unprofor headquarters in Sarajevo,” recalls Ron Rutten. “They did not care what was going on. From the moment we got there, in January 1995, we were sitting in a mess, surrounded by the Bosnian Serbs. All the major troop-contributing countries to Unprofor knew what was happening. There were SAS guys who were sending messages to General Smith in Sarajevo. I listened to their messages; they were reporting about everything.” But none of the information had any effect.
The Serbs launched their final attack on Thursday, July 6, and the town fell the following Tuesday. The UN refused its commanders’ repeated requests for air strikes, claiming they didn’t fall within the UN guidelines. Outnumbered, the peacekeepers fired only over the heads of the advancing Bosnian Serbs, fearful they would be wiped out if they fought. Once the town fell, Rutten and the other troops looked in vain to Lt Col Thomas Karremans and his deputy, Major Robert Franken, for leadership. Rutten tried to convince his commanders to get the civilians inside the UN compound and alert the world. “Fighting the Serbs would have been a suicide mission because of our poor logistics and useless ammunition. But we could have done something more.” Nothing came of his plan. “At the very moment when we needed leadership, Karremans and Franken gave us no direction. Every soldier was prepared and willing to do something, but nobody was given the command.”
Rutten forced his way into a building known as the White House, which was holding hundreds of men and boys. Their identity cards and passports were piled up outside. Their terror was almost tangible. “You could smell death. I saw the men, I saw the passports and how it was organised. How much more do you need to see to be sure that this is well prepared? The Bosnian Serbs were trying to erase the whole male population.” Despite Rutten’s protests, Dutch troops helped the Bosnian Serbs take the men and boys away. He photographed the process. They believed that by keeping order the prisoners would be in less danger, says Rutten. “The troops thought they could stop the atrocities by guiding people onto the buses. But we should know our history, what happened when people were taken away.”
Perhaps the greatest betrayal was of Ibro Nuhanovic, a local man who had assisted Franken. One of Nuhanovic’s sons, Hasan, worked as a UN translator. Ibro and Hasan were listed as UN staff. Ibro’s wife, Nasiha, and his younger son, Muhamed, were not. The list was the difference between life and death. Despite Ibro and Hasan’s pleas, Franken refused to add their names, and ordered them off the base.
Initially, the attack caused few ripples at the DPKO. Annan was away. The secretary-general, Boutros Boutros-Ghali, was travelling. Shashi Tharoor, the DPKO team leader on Yugoslavia, was on leave. So was General Sir Rupert Smith. On Saturday, July 8, Boutros-Ghali, Annan, Smith, and other senior UN officials met in Geneva. They barely discussed Srebrenica. Incredibly, they sent Smith back on leave. By the time Tharoor finally returned to his desk, Srebrenica had virtually fallen. It was left to Peter Galbraith, the then US ambassador to Croatia, to alert Washington. “In Akashi’s world, the reaction to something like this was that the UN had to be careful because it was dangerous and could lead to military action. The UN always needed proof and they had strategies to ensure there was no proof. They would sit on reports or ensure the information was not highlighted, and when it was reported to the press it just became more of the same from Bosnia.”
Once out of Serb-controlled territory, Dutchbat got roaring drunk and danced in a line. The men and boys of Srebrenica were also being lined up, but not to dance.
Charge three: Darfur
