I still remember my first visit to Kigali Genocide Memorial in 2010. As I stood there, rows of names stretched across the walls, each etched with a permanence that spoke louder than words. I felt a weight I could not fully comprehend, as a young Rwandan coming home. Over one million people were massacred in just 100 days in 1994, yet the world seemed slow to notice, or act. ALSO READ: Genocide Commemoration: When Rwanda’s widows broke their silence That moment of confrontation with history stayed with me. Now, 32 years later, as Rwanda commemorates the Genocide against the Tutsi, I feel that remembering is no longer just about looking back. It is also about holding on to the truth of what happened, and pushing back against genocide denial. ALSO READ: A preventable genocide, a denied responsibility: What ‘Corridors of Power’ reveals about Rwanda Globally, troubling patterns are being pushed to serve unrelated political agendas. Narratives of past are being reshaped in ways that blur moral clarity. Victims of the genocide against the Tutsi are recast as aggressors, while perpetrators are reframed as innocent. Overtime, these distortions shape how people think and act. ALSO READ: Genocide against the Tutsi: A moral test everyone failed Rwanda feels these challenges up close. Even at home, people still try to soften what really happened in 1994. Statistics from Rwanda Investigation Bureau indicate that crimes related to the ideology of the genocide against the Tutsi, increased in 2025, reaching 483 cases compared to 454 in 2024. At first glance, such attempts to distort the truth might seem subtle but in reality, they are dangerous and can have serious lasting effects. People should understand that genocide does not start with machetes. It begins with ideas, carefully built stories that dehumanised people, create divisions, and make exclusion seem acceptable. Over time, these ideas make hatred normal and violence seem possible. ALSO READ: Rwanda’s commemorations in the shadow of indifference Therefore, when history is twisted, the path forward becomes uncertain, and the lessons meant to prevent a future genocide are at risk. This is why Kwibuka is so much more than a day of remembrance. It is a stand against forgetting. Every survivor’s testimony shared and every lesson taught is a conscious effort to keep the truth alive. Seen this way, remembering should be as a hallmark that holds us together, just like schools, hospitals, and roads do. Without it, the clarity and moral compass that unite us can falter, leaving space for the same dangerous forces that once tore the country apart. ALSO READ: Kagame warns against genocide denial, historical distortion President Paul Kagame’s remarks during Kwibuka 32 reminded everyone that genocide ideology doesn’t simply disappear; it shifts and finds new ways to survive. It reappears through denial, downplaying, and the twisting of history. The lesson, he said, is not only that the world failed Rwanda in 1994, but that the same patterns of indifference and selective outrage are still present today. “We cannot die twice,” he said. These words carry weight far beyond Rwanda’s borders. Letting denial, distortion, or the twisting of moral truth take hold risks a second kind of loss, one where the facts are forgotten and history is rewritten. Worldwide, warning signs are everywhere. Words like “genocide” are being thrown around carelessly, stripped of their real historical and legal weight, and in the process, the horror of true atrocities is trivialised. This misuse does more than distort understanding, it weakens the impact of past atrocities, making it easier for violence to seem acceptable, or even inevitable And yet, in places where the threat is real, the world often looks the other way. In eastern DR Congo, for example, the remnants of the 1994 genocide against the Tutsi, the Kinshasa-backed genocidal FDLR militia–continue to operate, committing the same atrocities. Despite evidence, these ongoing dangers receive far less attention than they should–a reminder that ignoring reality is as dangerous as distorting it. Education and remembering, then, are one of the most important defenses. For young Rwandans today, the 1994 genocide against the Tutsi is not something they experienced firsthand. How they come to understand it depends on the honesty and accuracy of what they are taught, what they read, and what they see. When those lessons are incomplete, twisted, or misleading, the memory of what happened becomes fragile, and what was meant to prevent a repeat can be lost. In today’s world, information moves fast and far. Stories that start in one place can quickly reach everywhere, shaped and reshaped by those with different agendas. For Rwanda, letting this history slip from its control doesn’t just harm memory, it opens the door for lies to take root. For our leaders and those aspiring to be, always know that words and ideas shape societies long before violence begins; they carry the power to unite, but also to divide. Young people, too, inherit this responsibility: to seek truth, question distortion, and carry the stories of the past honestly. The writer is a management consultant and strategist.
