A story about a child experiencing something no child should ever experience.

Content warnings

Genocide

The short story

It was a morning like many others in that small village on the hillside, whose beautiful landscapes, clear streams of water, and rich soil made it look like a piece of heaven.

In that village, everyone knows each other well. The children all go in the same school located in a neighboring village on the other side of the hill. You can see them walking through the banana fields to get there, their laughter filling the air. The elderly usually sit on a wooden bench near the little church, talking about the ongoing stories in the village and their old memories. Their faces, full of wrinkles, would light up as they shared stories. The adults work together in the fields around the village, planting and harvesting crops. When they aren’t in the fields, they help each other build houses or run the small market where they sold their goods which benefit the entire village. The air smelled of fresh earth and ripe fruits, mixed with the sounds of people working and chatting happily. As the sun climbed higher, spreading a warm light over the village, everyone went about their day. It was a place where life moved slowly, simple joys were treasured, and every day showed the strong bonds among the villagers. In that village, people are more than simple neighbors. They are friends, they consider themselves as a family, taking care of each other.

When Charles, an 8-year-old boy dressed in blue shorts and a green shirt, came back from school he ran into his parents’ house, asking his mother if he could have a grilled banana before going out to play with his friends.

“Pleeeeeaase, mommy! Your grilled bananas smell so good, I want a bite!” he begged.

His mother found him a bit greedy, but she could never resist when her son begged for her delicious food. As soon as he got the grilled banana, Charles ran outside to meet his friends and play with a ball, enjoying the remaining hours of daylight before the sun set behind the hill, signaling bedtime.

That night, Charles lay in bed, unable to sleep. He kept thinking about a small monkey he had seen with his friends in the banana field while playing. Charles thought the monkey might also love a piece of grilled banana more than the unripe, green ones still hanging on the trees. But he knew the monkey wouldn’t dare come near the village because the elders always scared them away to protect the food.

Despite knowing his mother would be angry, Charles jumped out of bed, grabbed half a grilled banana, and ran to the banana fields to find the monkey. He walked for a long time but couldn’t find any trace of it. “Maybe it has gone farther away”, he thought, but he hesitated to stray further from his village, worried about encountering dangerous wildlife.

Charles considered returning home before his parents noticed he was gone, knowing they would certainly be upset. They were aware of the dangers of walking alone at night in the wild, and they had lectured him since he was a child. While he was still trying to make a decision, he noticed lights from his village in the distance—torches, accompanied by shouting, though he couldn’t make out the words. He assumed his mother had discovered his absence, and the neighbors were searching for him. Wanting to avoid a scolding, he lay down on a rock next to the grilled banana, deciding he would rather find the monkey than face his furious parents.

Charles woke up with the first light of day warming his face. He suddenly realized he had slept through the night. His parents would be furious, he thought, and probably the neighbors too. He ate the banana, still untouched by animals, and hurried back to the village.

As he got closer, he smelled something burning. “Maybe someone overcooked some beans”, he thought. But suddenly, Charles stopped, frozen by the scene in front of him. At the edge of the banana field, he saw an unimaginable massacre: bodies of people he knew were scattered everywhere, and most of the houses were destroyed. His village, his piece of heaven, was unrecognizable.

He ran toward his parents’ house, praying they were safe. But there was no one. Everything had been turned upside down. He saw the grilled bananas on the ground, stained with red spots. Charles had no idea what had happened or where his parents were.

Suddenly, a voice called from behind him. It was John, one of his neighbors, a man around 45 years old. “Charles, run! Don’t go there, or you’ll be killed too!” John shouted.

Charles didn’t understand what was happening but wanted to find his parents. John insisted, “Come here, you must hide. They’re looking for you like they came for your parents. You have to hide!”

Charles ran to John, who seemed to know what was happening. “John, tell me what’s going on! Where are my parents?” Charles cried.

“They’re looking for you! They know you exist. Some of the people who did this are our neighbors. But I’ll explain later. Right now, you have to run! I can help you hide!” John urged. Charles grabbed John’s hand, and John helped him escape the house and run toward the swamps down the hill. They walked for what felt like an eternity to Charles and his short legs. When they reached the swamps, John lifted Charles onto his shoulders and helped him reach a small wooden platform, a place where farmers rested during the day, safe from snakes and other dangers in the swamps.

John told Charles, “I have to go back and look for other survivors. Wait here, and don’t let anyone see you! Do you understand? When night comes, we’ll go farther and try to find a safer place.”

Charles couldn’t bear not knowing. He begged John, “Please tell me what happened! Where are my parents?”

But John insisted that he had to find more survivors. “Wait for me. If I don’t return by nightfall, go deeper into the swamps and hide. Make sure no one finds you.” With that, John left.

Charles was left alone on the wooden platform. Every hour, every minute felt like an eternity. He wondered if he would ever see his parents again, play soccer with his friends, or return to school, where his strict teacher would smile whenever Charles gave a good answer. Charles did not know it yet, but that night, in April 1994, would forever change the small village on the hill.

As the sun began to set, Charles finally heard John returning. He looked exhausted, and fear was written on his face. John told Charles, “I tried, believe me, I tried… but I couldn’t find anyone else to save. We have to keep moving and find a place to hide.” He continued, “They’re going to keep searching for you. They’ve fallen prey to the hateful messages they heard on the radio and decided that people like you need to be wiped out.”

Charles, confused and crying, asked, “What do you mean by ‘people like me’? I don’t understand!”

John tried to explain, but how could anyone explain such horror to an 8-year-old boy whose life had been turned upside down? He simply replied, “Some people divide humans into groups, believing some are better than others, or that certain groups shouldn’t exist anymore. Your parents tried to protect you from hearing the terrible things on the radio. That’s why they were happy every day when you played soccer after school instead of staying home. But now, people like you are seen as a threat that must be eliminated. A few days ago, something tragic happened, and you, your family, and many others are being blamed. The radio broadcasted that everyone in the country must help ‘cleanse’ the land, which means targeting people like you. They won’t stop until they think their task is done, and from now on, you’ll have to fight every day for your life, for survival.”

Charles didn’t fully understand, but he grasped the danger. He asked, “But why are you helping me? Why didn’t you give me to them?”

John hesitated, unsure how to answer. Finally, he said, “I don’t believe humans should be divided into groups. To me, we’re all the same. And I don’t agree with the orders they gave. I would rather die saving lives than live by hurting others.” He continued, “Now come with me. Let’s keep moving and stay alive for as long as we can.”

This story was originally written in English.

The papers

• Interviews with former genocide perpetrators from Rwanda and Cambodia: Caspar, E. (2024). Understanding Individual Motivations and Desistance: Interviews with Genocide Perpetrators from Rwanda and Cambodia. Journal of Perpetrator Research, 6(2). http://doi.org/10.21039/jpr.6.2.142
• Trade book resuming the whole field: Caspar, E. A. (2024). Just Following Orders: Atrocities and the Brain Science of Obedience. Cambridge University Press. https://doi.org/10.1017/9781009385428

Connection between story and paper

This story, inspired by real accounts heard by Emilie Caspar in Rwanda, raises a crucial societal and scientific question: How can we explain that, in a similar historical, economic, and social environment, some people fall prey to hateful propaganda, even to the extent of participating in genocide, while others resist? Understanding human decision-making is extremely complex, particularly in such extreme social contexts. Emilie Caspar first studied these research questions in the lab using EEG and fMRI to investigate how obeying or resisting immoral orders to harm another person influences various neuro-cognitive processes, including empathy, guilt, and responsibility.

However, she strongly believes that such socially significant questions should not be explored solely in universities with convenience samples, as those participants often have limited understanding of the catastrophic consequences of obedience. Therefore, she has taken an unusual step in neuroscience: going into the field with portable EEG equipment to test and interview real former genocide perpetrators and rescuers, notably in Rwanda but also in Cambodia, as well as military personnel. She has also adopted a qualitative approach to understand how these individuals explain their participation or resistance, aiming for a more comprehensive view alongside her neuroscience findings.

The author

Emilie Caspar is an Associate Professor at Ghent University (Belgium). Her research and lab focuses on understanding what guides moral decision-making in specific contexts such as genocides or post-incarceration, primarily using a social neuroscience approach. She details how she conducts her research projects here: https://emiliecaspar.home.blog/