In our previous two articles, we reflected on the reasons why major powers that could have stopped the 1994 genocide against Tutsi did not do so. In this piece, I show why those same reasons are inherently similar to those driving sanctions against some government officials and RDF, the institution that stopped the genocide. I conclude with key lessons from this instructive turn in human history. ALSO READ: Why core reasons for not stopping 1994 Genocide also explain today’s sanctions In perspective, this is a discussion of the world as it is, as opposed to what some commentators think it should be. To begin with, the actions of states in the international system can be explained using one or more of five lenses: international law and norms, morality, humanitarianism, reasons of the state, and pure power. These are the same tools, or combinations of them, that states deploy in pursuit of what sophisticated analysts call “national interests.” ALSO READ: Why the world of genocide inaction sanctions Never Again guardians Under this framework, if states were guided strictly by international law and norms—even where there was no direct material benefit—they would have invoked the 1948 Genocide Convention and acted to save the Tutsi from the hands of genocide perpetrators. Likewise, if morality or humanitarianism had been decisive in the face of mass extermination, countries such as Belgium, the United States, and France would have saved all those in danger, rather than evacuating only their own citizens and other foreigners, as they did. Yet as the world now knows, when the genocide began, UN Security Council permanent members such as the United States, France, and the United Kingdom did not ask what the law or morality required, nor what humanitarianism demanded. Instead, in Security Council deliberations, they advanced reasons for inaction that we now know differed significantly from their private assessments. Publicly, the United States opposed upgrading the UN mandate, citing a “breakdown in the ceasefire” and warning against “another Somalia,” where it had lost 18 Marines in 1993. The United Kingdom emphasized UN “failure” and called for an “African solution to an African problem,” while France described the situation as a “civil war,” among other framings. These were the publicly acceptable explanations presented to a largely uninformed global audience. They were not, however, the underlying reasons. Privately, American officials were concerned about economic costs and did not view saving lives in Rwanda as part of their national interests, nor did they consider the country strategically significant. France, as has been widely documented, saw protecting the then-genocidal government as essential to its regional interests, while Belgium was primarily concerned with avoiding political humiliation following the killing of its peacekeepers. This disregard for international law, norms, morality, and humanitarianism in the face of mass murder is deeply disturbing. Yet, however immoral, history shows that such behavior is inherent in the operation of states. This is what scholars of international relations describe as part of the “reasons of state.” This brings us to sanctions. For ordinary citizens, sanctions against Rwanda may appear to be driven by reasons entirely different from those that shaped international inaction during the genocide. Yet at a deeper level, the logic is strikingly similar. So how are the reasons for sanctions inherently similar to the reasons for inaction in 1994? Officially, sanctions against the individuals and institutions in question are justified by alleged support for M23, Rwanda’s presence in DR Congo, illicit trade, and violations of the Washington Peace Accords. Supporters of sanctions, including Congolese President Félix Tshisekedi, present them as a path toward accountability. Opponents—including the Government of Rwanda—describe them as one-sided and unjustified. Sanctioning states argue that such measures are intended to change behavior. However, conflict mediation experts warn that sanctions can also incentivize other actors in the conflict to continue hostilities. Some have further argued that if sanctions are truly motivated by concern over support for armed groups, then similar measures should also be applied to the Congolese government, which continues to cooperate with FDLR despite the Washington Accords. Others question why, if the goal is peace in DR Congo, the UN Intervention Brigade that defeated M23 in 2013—and whose mandate included neutralizing armed groups—did not proceed to dismantle all negative armed forces, including the FDLR, as originally envisioned. For some Pan-Africanists, sanctions are viewed as instruments of neocolonial influence, used to maintain control over former colonies while perpetuating external dependence, particularly in resource-rich regions. At a deeper level, however, more fundamental questions remain largely unasked: on what basis do states such as the United States, the United Kingdom, or regional blocs like the EU claim the authority to sanction sovereign countries? Can Rwanda or DR Congo also sanction them, or is this authority reserved for Western powers? And where does the United Nations stand in this hierarchy? In practice, sanctions raise significant legal, political, and security questions. Legally, they implicate four key principles of international law: state sovereignty and equality under the UN Charter, the right to self-defense, the responsibility to protect, and the right to self-determination, including claims associated with groups such as M23. Politically, sanctions can foster subordination and coercively influence the policies of sovereign states. In this case, they affect both Rwanda and the DRC, reinforcing patterns of dependency and external influence. In the realm of peace and security, sanctions can also complicate mediation efforts. Depending on their application, they may signal partiality, embolden armed actors such as the FDLR, or weaken the defensive capabilities of targeted states. While any state may, in principle, impose sanctions on individuals or entities, only the United Nations framework allows for sanctions involving national armed forces. From this perspective, sanctions against the RDF are argued to be unlawful and a violation of Rwanda’s sovereignty and its right to determine its own security policies without external interference. This, in turn, reinforces the argument that international law is not applied consistently. If it were, how could the United States justify sanctioning the armed forces of a sovereign state with which it is formally equal under Article 2(1) of the UN Charter? This suggests that such sanctions are not driven primarily by legality, but by power. In analytical terms, this is often described as the use of “pure power” in the pursuit of strategic dominance in the international system. More broadly, the question arises: if the United States considers it legitimate to strike Iran, over 11,700 kilometers away, kill its leaders, destroy its military infrastructure, and pressure it into negotiations, why is it unacceptable for Rwanda to take defensive measures against threats emanating from a neighboring country? Similarly, if the United States can carry out operations against Venezuela, approximately 3,000 miles away, detain its leaders, and pursue coercive political outcomes, why is it considered sanctionable for Rwanda to support a force engaged in combating the FDLR, a terror group recognized by the UN and US and associated with perpetrators of the genocide ideology? To understand how Western powers relate to international law and pursue their interests, it is useful to listen to some of their own decision-makers. John Bolton, a former U.S. National Security Advisor and former U.S. Ambassador to the UN, has argued that international law is irrelevant when national interests are at stake. Speaking at the Steamboat Institute, he stated: “The rules-based international order has never existed. It’s a fiction.” “What has provided peace and security to the extent that it existed was American power and the system of alliances that we built... we didn’t do it for benevolence. We did it because it benefited ourselves.” Bolton also acknowledged that such views are rarely stated publicly, though they reflect the underlying logic of state behavior. I agree. If one seeks to understand the real drivers of U.S. engagement in DR Congo, it is also useful to consider statements by President Donald Trump, Congolese officials, human rights organizations, and the Washington agreement itself. Trump publicly noted that Congolese leaders had appealed to him, saying: “Please, please, we would love you to come and take our minerals,” to which he reportedly responded affirmatively. After the signing of the Washington agreement on December 4, 2025, he stated that major U.S. companies would benefit from the region’s mineral wealth. As Shola Lawal of Al Jazeera reported on March 17, 2025, Congolese officials had long advocated for a “minerals-for-security deal” prior to the agreement. Reuters similarly reported high-level discussions in Washington involving senior DRC officials exploring security-for-minerals arrangements. Human Rights Watch also observed on July 7, 2025, that the Washington deal aligned closely with U.S. strategic interests and reflected a transactional approach to foreign policy. Lessons for Rwanda To Rwanda and Rwandans, the lesson is clear: only you can protect and save yourselves. With unity, and leadership grounded in an understanding of state interests and a shared vision of development, resilience is possible. This lesson is not only drawn from the past 32 years, but also from more than a century of external interference and betrayal - from the UN Trusteeship period’s promises of unity, to the installation of exclusionary politics, to decades of exile, to UNAMIR’s failure in 1994, to MONUSCO’s inability to neutralize FDLR, and to ongoing sanctions despite persistent security threats. Across this history, one lesson remains constant: only Rwandans can ultimately ensure their own survival. This conclusion is reinforced by a deeper truth about human nature. While history demonstrates humanity’s capacity for great evil, as seen in colonial violence and the 1994 genocide, it also reveals a profound capacity for resilience, recovery, and transformation, as post-genocide Rwanda continues to show. The writer is a researcher, consultant, educator, and commentator on national, regional, and global affairs.
