Michael Barnett, who worked at the U.S. Mission to the United Nations from 1993 to 1994, covered Rwanda for much of the genocide. Based on his first-hand expeiences, archival work, and interviews with many key participants, he reconstructs the history of the UN's involvement in Rwanda. Barnett's new Afterword to this edition includes his reaction to documents released on the twentieth anniversary of the genocide. He reflects on what the passage of time has told us about what provoked the genocide, its course, and the implications of the ghastly events of 1994 and the grossly inadequate international reactions to them.

This book examines the most polemical atrocity of the Spanish civil war: The massacre of 2,500 political prisoners by Republican security forces in the villages of Paracuellos and Torrejon de Ardoz near Madrid in November/December 1936. The atrocity took place while Santiago Carrillo -- later Communist Party leader in the 1970s -- was responsible for public order. Although Carrillo played a key role in the transition to democracy after Franco's death in 1975, he passed away at the age of 97 in 2012 still denying any involvement in 'Paracuellos' (the generic term for the massacres). The issue of Carrillo's responsibility has been the focus of much historical research. Julius Ruiz places Paracuellos in the wider context of the 'Red Terror' in Madrid, where a minimum of 8,000 'fascists' were murdered after the failure of military rebellion in July 1936. He rejects both 'revisionist' right-wing writers such as Cesar Vidal who cite Paracuellos as evidence that the Republic committed Soviet-style genocide and left-wing historians such as Paul Preston, who in his Spanish Holocaust argues that the massacres were primarily the responsibility of the Soviet secret police, the NKVD. The book argues that Republican actions influenced the Soviets, not the other way round: Paracuellos intensified Stalin's fears of a 'Fifth Column' within the USSR that facilitated the Great Terror of 193738. It concludes that the perpetrators were primarily members of the Provincial Committee of Public Investigation (CPIP), a murderous all-leftist revolutionary tribunal created in August 1936, and that its work of eliminating the 'Fifth Column' (an imaginary clandestine Francoist organisation) was supported not just by Carrillo, but also by the Republican government. In Autumn 2015 the book was serialised in El Mundo, Spain's second largest selling daily, to great acclaim.

This book examines the most polemical atrocity of the Spanish civil war: The massacre of 2,500 political prisoners by Republican security forces in the villages of Paracuellos and Torrejon de Ardoz near Madrid in November/December 1936. The atrocity took place while Santiago Carrillo -- later Communist Party leader in the 1970s -- was responsible for public order. Although Carrillo played a key role in the transition to democracy after Franco's death in 1975, he passed away at the age of 97 in 2012 still denying any involvement in 'Paracuellos' (the generic term for the massacres). The issue of Carrillo's responsibility has been the focus of much historical research. Julius Ruiz places Paracuellos in the wider context of the 'Red Terror' in Madrid, where a minimum of 8,000 'fascists' were murdered after the failure of military rebellion in July 1936. He rejects both 'revisionist' right-wing writers such as Cesar Vidal who cite Paracuellos as evidence that the Republic committed Soviet-style genocide and left-wing historians such as Paul Preston, who in his Spanish Holocaust argues that the massacres were primarily the responsibility of the Soviet secret police, the NKVD. The book argues that Republican actions influenced the Soviets, not the other way round: Paracuellos intensified Stalin's fears of a 'Fifth Column' within the USSR that facilitated the Great Terror of 193738. It concludes that the perpetrators were primarily members of the Provincial Committee of Public Investigation (CPIP), a murderous all-leftist revolutionary tribunal created in August 1936, and that its work of eliminating the 'Fifth Column' (an imaginary clandestine Francoist organisation) was supported not just by Carrillo, but also by the Republican government. In Autumn 2015 the book was serialised in El Mundo, Spain's second largest selling daily, to great acclaim.

Michael Barnett, who worked at the U.S. Mission to the United Nations from 1993 to 1994, covered Rwanda for much of the genocide. Based on his first-hand expeiences, archival work, and interviews with many key participants, he reconstructs the history of the UN's involvement in Rwanda. Barnett's new Afterword to this edition includes his reaction to documents released on the twentieth anniversary of the genocide. He reflects on what the passage of time has told us about what provoked the genocide, its course, and the implications of the ghastly events of 1994 and the grossly inadequate international reactions to them.

Rape is common during wartime, but even within the context of the same war, some armed groups perpetrate rape on a massive scale while others never do. In Rape during Civil War Dara Kay Cohen examines variation in the severity and perpetrators of rape using an original dataset of reported rape during all major civil wars from 1980 to 2012. Cohen also conducted extensive fieldwork, including interviews with perpetrators of wartime rape, in three postconflict counties, finding that rape was widespread in the civil wars of the Sierra Leone and Timor-Leste but was far less common during El Salvador's civil war.Cohen argues that armed groups that recruit their fighters through the random abduction of strangers use rape-and especially gang rape-to create bonds of loyalty and trust between soldiers. The statistical evidence confirms that armed groups that recruit using abduction are more likely to perpetrate rape than are groups that use voluntary methods, even controlling for other confounding factors. Important findings from the fieldwork-across cases-include that rape, even when it occurs on a massive scale, rarely seems to be directly ordered. Instead, former fighters describe participating in rape as a violent socialization practice that served to cut ties with fighters' past lives and to signal their commitment to their new groups. Results from the book lay the groundwork for the systematic analysis of an understudied form of civilian abuse. The book will also be useful to policymakers and organizations seeking to understand and to mitigate the horrors of wartime rape.

Immediately following Pearl Harbor, Japan wrenched the meagerly defended Netherlands East Indies, now known as Indonesia, from the hands of its Dutch colonialists. Suddenly, one of the world's largest nations was at the service of the Japanese Imperial Army. A highly successful campaign recruited young Indonesian men to support the Japanese war efforts, but hidden behind the facade of Asian brotherhood was a sinister truth-during the brief 40 months of Japanese occupation, as many as several million Indonesians were worked to death or summarily killed as expendable slave laborers known as the romusha. While many romusha were lost from all memory and record, nine hundred Indonesians were known victims of a brutal and immoral medical experiment perpetuated by an increasingly desperate Imperial Japan. With the tide of the war turning and in dire need of a means to protect their troops from tetanus in anticipation of a land assault, the Japanese used romusha as human guinea pigs for a vaccine that had not been sufficiently vetted. In a matter of days, all 900 patients had suffered protracted and agonizing deaths. With the American and Allied forces poised to win the war, Japan needed a scapegoat for this well-documented incident if it was to avoid war crimes prosecution. In War Cimes in Japan-Occupied Indonesia: A Case of Murder by Medicine, J. Kevin Baird and Sangkot Marzuki chronicle the life and wrongful execution of Achmad Mochtar, a native Indonesian and renowned scientist, against the backdrop of a tropical medicine and the science of vaccination, not only to exonerate an innocent man, but also to provide a picture of a nascent country emerging from the ravages of colonization and occupation.

Australian civilians worked for decades supporting the survivors and orphans of the Armenian Genocide massacres. 24 April 1915 marks the beginning of two great epics of the First World War. It was the day the allied invasion forces set out for Gallipoli; and it marked the beginning of what became the Genocide of the Ottoman Empire's Armenians. For the first time, this book tells the powerful, and until now neglected, story of how Australian humanitarians helped people they had barely heard of and never met, amid one of the twentieth century's most terrible human calamities. With 50 000 Armenian- Australians sharing direct family links with the Genocide, this has become truly an Australian story.