KIGALI – The Genocide against the Tutsi was not a sudden breakdown of order. It was the result of a calculated political strategy that, over decades, transformed division into a state policy and ultimately into mass violence.
At the closure of the commemoration week, Dr. Jean-Damascène Bizimana, the Minister of National Unity and Civic Engagement, described it as the execution of a long-developed system, explaining that it was carefully constructed through years of deliberate political choices.
The foundation of this system was laid in the early 1960s under Grégoire Kayibanda, when political power became openly defined along ethnic lines. Governance was structured to exclude Tutsis from leadership and public life, embedding division at the centre state power.
This exclusion quickly moved from rhetoric into policy. Educational opportunities were unevenly distributed, while administrative directives discouraged Tutsi participation in governance.
According to Bizimana, these practices normalized discrimination over time, shaping both institutions and public attitudes. What emerged was a political environment where inequality was not only practiced but justified.
By the late 1960s, divisive narratives had become firmly entrenched. Political messaging reinforced the idea of ethnic hierarchy, presenting exclusion as necessary for national stability. This gradual normalization of discrimination laid the groundwork for deeper divisions in the years that followed.
Continuity beneath promises of unity
Bizimana explained that the 1973 coup that brought Juvénal Habyarimana to power was framed as a move to restore unity. However, the structures of exclusion remained largely intact. While the new leadership projected an image of stability, systemic discrimination continued beneath the surface.
With the creation of the MRND in 1975, Rwanda became a one-party state. Its official narrative emphasized unity and development, but access to education, employment, and public office remained unequal.
Power became increasingly centralized, reinforcing the very divisions the government claimed to address. This contradiction defined the political climate of the time. The language of unity masked a reality of sustained inequality, allowing division to deepen quietly within institutions and society.
By the early 1990s, the political landscape had shifted from passive exclusion to active mobilization. Leaders and local authorities began encouraging civilians to identify and confront those labeled as enemies.
Media played a critical role where broadcasts on Radio Rwanda amplified divisive narratives and helped shape public perception. Messages that once justified exclusion now promoted hostility, creating an environment where violence could be framed as legitimate.
At the same time, extremist rhetoric intensified across political circles. Civilians were urged to arm themselves, while coordinated messaging prepared communities for confrontation. This was not an isolated development but part of a broader strategy that systematically conditioned the population for violence.
When the Genocide began in 1994, this machinery was already fully established. Broadcasts praised militias and directed civilians to hunt down those in hiding, turning ordinary people into participants in organized killings.
As Bizimana noted, the violence that followed was not spontaneous but the final stage of a system decades in the making.
Choosing principle in a time of violence
Despite the overwhelming force of this system, some individuals chose a different path. Leaders such as Agathe Uwilingiyimana rejected divisive politics and upheld the principle of unity, even at the cost of their lives.
Others, like Félicité Niyitegeka and Michel Rwagasana demonstrated extraordinary courage by protecting those at risk with some other acts of resistance also emerging among ordinary citizens.
At Nyange Secondary School, students refused orders to separate along ethnic lines, choosing solidarity over survival. Their decision remains one of the most powerful examples of moral courage even after the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi.
These actions may not have stopped the violence, but they revealed that even within a system designed to enforce division, individual choices still mattered. They stand as enduring reminders of the human capacity to resist injustice.
A clear lesson for the future
Rwanda’s continued reflection on this history highlights a growing understanding of how politics shaped the tragedy. A 2025 study found that 93 percent of Rwandans believe political parties played a central role in fostering the divisions that led to the genocide.
The Genocide against the Tutsi was not spontaneous, it was constructed through years of decisions, policies, and narratives that went unchallenged. Preventing its recurrence requires vigilance, responsible leadership, and a firm rejection of any form of division.
At Rebero, where those who chose courage over complicity are remembered, it remains clear that what was built once can be prevented again, but only if its origins are fully understood and never ignored.
