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Dominic Ongwen, a former Ugandan child soldier, has been found guilty of war crimes by the International Criminal Court. Three judges found him guilty of 61 of the 70 charges. These ranged from the war crime of forced conscription of child soldiers to the crime against humanity of forced pregnancy.
Presiding Judge Bertram Schmitt read aloud the names of dozens of his victims in a stark reminder of the human consequences of Ongwen’s actions. Ongwen was unmoved when reading the verdict, only really paying attention when Judge Schmitt’s dry account turned to accusations relating to his former “wives.”
Ongwen’s story disturbs stereotypes of the pathological war criminal – relentless men indifferent to human suffering or, more generally, actively seeking it. This image is already an oversimplification that does not take into account the diverse backgrounds and motivations of perpetrators of international crimes. There is a thriving literature, including my book Perpetrating Genocide, which repudiates these misguided perspectives.
Yet Ongwen’s story is particularly troubling. In this article, I draw on the research I conducted for my next book on him to be published by Rutgers University Press. The ongoing research project included (anonymized) interviews with around 90 people in northern Uganda in 2009 and 2018. Almost all of them had personal and direct knowledge of Ongwen.
They include family members, former Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) combatants, people working on his trial, and victims. Former LRA members include people involved in his kidnapping, people he kidnapped, senior commanders who were his senior officers at various points in his “career” in the LRA, his “wives” and subordinates in the LRA. within the LRA. I draw on my interviews to give an impression of Ongwen’s life before his trial.
The first years
Ongwen had a typical Acholi childhood. He was born in 1975 in Coorom – a small village about 40 km southwest of the regional center of Gulu, the largest city in northern Uganda.
His early childhood went peacefully. But his life was turned upside down one morning in 1987, when he and several of his classmates were kidnapped on their way to school.
Ongwen suffered terribly during his early days in the LRA. As they did with other abductees, LRA fighters tied his hands, forced him to carry heavy loads, and threatened him constantly.
Her survival instinct and respectful nature (mentioned by many interview subjects spanning all stages of her life) contributed to her survival. But it also led to his identification by the Prosecutor as someone who “played such an important role” in the LRA atrocities.
From kidnapping to the battlefield
Like all LRA “recruits”, Ongwen went through extensive training and an indoctrination process. He was noticed by Joseph Kony, the notorious leader of the LRA, a skillful tactician and spiritual medium. Ongwen was close to Kony, but according to Kony’s former security chief:
Kony was like a chameleon – he always changed to a different color.
Ongwen’s prowess on the battlefield was well known within the LRA. He was a courageous fighter and regarded by many of his colleagues as a righteous and adept commander.
But these insider perspectives should be treated with caution. This is not to say that they are false, but that they are often still shaped by LRA values. Many former LRA members quickly deny that Ongwen was ever involved in “atrocities” or “killings of civilians.” But it quickly becomes clear that the LRA was functioning as its own moral universe.
This is evident, for example, when looking at the prevalence and nature of sexual violence within the group. The LRA has expressly banned rape, and those who have raped could face very severe punishments. Yet the forced marriages were not considered rape by the group, despite the lack of consent from the “wives”.
LRA accounts are replete with appalling stories of these so-called “bush brides”.
And in Ongwen’s case, trial testimony detailed his personal role in the rape of underage women.
Interview subjects who denied Ongwen’s role in the atrocities sometimes yielded accounts of his actions that would undoubtedly be viewed by others as crimes and even atrocities. Yet these same veterans saw each other at Ongwen. He was a kidnapped man, a model fighter and an effective commander, and attributing guilt to him meant accepting his own guilt for acts committed under extremely coercive and brutal circumstances.
There are stupendous accounts in the trial and scientific literature on the LRA of the harsh consequences of disobeying orders or attempting to escape. This atmosphere of fear and surveillance was intensified by the spiritual beliefs of the group. These included the idea that Kony had the power to read their minds and that unlawful acts under the LRA could result in immediate “karmic” punishment.
Those abducted by the LRA did not simply “go through the motions” to adhere to the LRA worldview – they were deeply held beliefs, which many still hold to varying degrees.
Difficult to balance
There is a larger question of Ongwen’s trajectory within the LRA and whether he was a victim who survived a brutal and coercive system or a model LRA fighter with an aptitude for cruelty.
In my opinion, this is a false dichotomy. If I have learned anything after years of studying and talking with the perpetrators of mass atrocities, it is simply that – as International Criminal Court prosecutor Fatou Bensouda said in her opening statement:
cruel men can do nice things and nice men can be cruel.
This is hardly a contradiction – our actions are all shaped by many considerations and motivations.
This multidimensionality of human character reaches extremes in the context of mass atrocities, but it should be familiar to all of us.
Beyond the narrow limits of criminal guilt, where does it take us?
I spoke to a man who was abducted by Ongwen when he was 14, who abducted other children – “even my hands are not clean”.
I asked him how he reconciled his positive feelings for Ongwen (who he said was “like a father figure”) with the fact that Ongwen had taken him from home as a child. He laughed and said, “It’s very difficult to balance all of this!”
The court’s verdict will undoubtedly bring some comfort to its victims. But it also demonstrates the limits of international criminal justice in accommodating the complex circumstances of Ongwen’s life.
This article is a revised version of an article first published in Justice in Conflict.
Kjell Anderson does not work, consult, own stock or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has not disclosed any relevant affiliation beyond his academic appointment.
By Kjell Anderson, Assistant Professor and Director of the Master of Human Rights Program, University of Manitoba
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