For a country that has spent decades rebuilding unity and a shared national identity, it is striking how quickly moments of frustration can still give rise to echoes of genocide ideology. In Rwanda today, it is not overt ethnic politics. Instead, it often surfaces subtly, when personal or sectoral grievances are framed through the lens of identity to draw public sympathy or attention. ALSO READ: A diaspora influencer’s digital fight for memory and truth Rwanda post-1994, has been shaped by a deliberate effort to move beyond inherited divisions, an approach reflected in initiatives such as Ndi Umunyarwanda. At its core is the idea that national identity should take precedence over categories that were hardened during the colonial period. ALSO READ: ‘Ndi Umunyarwanda’ is the bond we share, the legacy we leave, says First Lady For Rwandans, this also aligns with a faith-based belief: that human beings were not created unequal. The categories that once divided us were politicised over time; they are not a natural truth. The country’s history offers a reminder of what can happen when such constructs are normalised. “Never Again” is often invoked in reference to genocide, but it also speaks to something more foundational; the need to resist the ways of thinking that make division possible in the first place. According to the Rwanda National Unity Barometer 2025, Rwanda’s unity and reconciliation score has reached 95.3%, reflecting steady improvement over time. The findings point to strong social cohesion, a shared sense of identity, and widespread belief in equal rights and inclusive governance. ALSO READ: Youth urged to counter anti-Rwanda narratives during Kwibuka 32 At the same time, the report highlights ongoing challenges. A notable share of respondents still report the presence of genocide ideology, and many survivors continue to carry unresolved emotional wounds. Social media has also been identified as a space where distorted narratives are circulating. ALSO READ: Foreign students reflect on lessons learned during Kwibuka 32 Taken together, these findings suggest that unity is not something that sustains itself automatically. It requires continuous effort, through institutions, education, and how individuals interpret and express their experiences. In everyday language, terms like “ethnicity” or “tribe” are often used as if they describe fixed, clearly bounded groups. Yet research in anthropology suggests the reality. Scholars such as Morton Fried and Fredrik Barth have shown that many precolonial societies were fluid rather than rigid, shaped by migration, intermarriage, and exchange. Identities were not static categories but evolving social relationships. The more rigid forms of identity often seen today were, in part, reinforced during the colonial period, when administrators sought to classify and govern populations through simplified categories. Over time, these labels have become embedded in political and social systems. ALSO READ: A historical timeline of Belgium's divisive politics in Rwanda As the philosopher Achille Mbembe argued, however, identity in Africa has historically been more dynamic than such labels suggest. Similarly, the novelist Chinua Achebe captured this fluidity in an Igbo proverb: “The world is like a Mask dancing. If you want to see it well, you do not stand in one place.” Seen this way, the persistence of identity-based politics is not inevitable, it is shaped by how societies choose to organise themselves. In many parts of the world, political competition increasingly revolves around economic policy, institutional performance, and shared national priorities. In parts of Africa, however, appeals to ethnicity or region are sometimes used to mobilise support, challenge opponents, or frame grievances. While such strategies may be effective in the short term, they often carry longer-term consequences. For example, in South Sudan, political competition has often followed ethnic lines, contributing to recurring instability and slowing state-building efforts. These patterns show how identity politics, once deeply rooted, can make inclusive development more difficult to achieve. Rwanda offers a related, though distinct, lesson. Earlier political periods, under leaders such as Grégoire Kayibanda and Juvénal Habyarimana, were often associated with governance shaped by identity considerations. Yet even then, such approaches did not produce uniform satisfaction, including among those seen as part of the dominant group. This suggests that identity-based politics does not resolve structural challenges; it can simply shift patterns of exclusion. Rwandans therefore need to shun this identity politics. There are also symbolic moments that continue to shape Rwanda’s collective memory. One of the most cited is the stance taken by students during the Nyange school massacre, who refused to separate along ethnic lines even when pressured to do so. In my view, their decision should serve as a powerful lesson for all Rwandans, especially young people, to avoid engaging in politics along identity lines. Even though, the pressures that can reintroduce division have not disappeared. Shared challenges such as unemployment should not be viewed through the lens of identity. When they are, as often amplified by those against government, the focus shifts away from fixing underlying systems and toward narratives that divide. To the young people, unity is not a fixed endpoint but an ongoing process. It is shaped by everyday choices: how people interpret grievances, how they engage in debate, and whether they prioritise shared challenges over inherited divisions. The writer is a management consultant and strategist.
