The Rwanda’s Minister of National Unity and Civic Engagement, Jean-Damascène Bizimana and Memorial Apartheid in Rwanda: When National Unity Becomes an Instrument of Ethnic Division

The Rwanda's Minister of National Unity and Civic Engagement, Jean-Damascène Bizimana and Memorial Apartheid in Rwanda: When National Unity Becomes an Instrument of Ethnic Division

Introduction

There exists a form of violence that is not always immediately visible. It leaves no physical marks. It does not appear in police reports or hospital records. But it gnaws at societies from within, fractures identities and plants the seeds of a bitterness that can, if left unchecked, lead to very real crises. This violence is that of discriminatory institutional discourse. And it is precisely what a growing number of voices, within Rwanda and among the diaspora, are denouncing today through the public interventions of Jean-Damascène Bizimana, Minister of National Unity and Civic Engagement.

The observation made by these citizens is chilling in its clarity: Bizimana devotes most of his mandate not to building unity among Rwandans, but to maintaining a binary, Manichaean and ethnically coded reading of Rwandan history and society. On one side, Tutsi presented as eternal victims who are morally beyond reproach. On the other, Hutu systematically associated with guilt, crime and suspicion. The good and the bad. The pure and the impure. A framework that one believed, or hoped, had been buried with the worst hours of the last century.

A Reading of History in Service of Discrimination

What is at issue here is not the memory of the 1994 genocide against the Tutsi. That genocide is a documented historical fact, recognised by the international community, and its commemoration is an absolute moral duty. No serious analysis could minimise the horror of what occurred, nor the legitimacy of transmitting it to future generations.

What is at issue is the manner in which this memory is instrumentalised to establish a permanent ethnic hierarchy within Rwandan society. When a minister of the Republic systematically interprets national history through the lens of the guilty Hutu and the innocent Tutsi, he is not engaged in educational work. He is perpetuating, in a new and institutional form, exactly the type of ethnic categorisation that the genocide itself carried to its criminal extreme.

Criminal responsibility is individual. This principle, fundamental in international law, is the very foundation upon which the judgements of the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda rest. Individuals were convicted for specific acts. Individuals, not a people. Not an ethnicity. Not a category inherited from Belgian colonisation. When official discourse blurs this fundamental distinction, it commits a serious intellectual and moral fault. When it does so deliberately and repeatedly, it commits something graver still.

Memorial Apartheid: A Concept That Demands Examination

The term is a strong one, but it deserves to be placed on the table with all the rigour it demands. Apartheid, in its broadest sense, designates a system in which individuals are classified, treated and judged not according to their personal actions, but according to a group belonging assigned to them. In South Africa, it was skin colour. In colonial Rwanda, it was the ethnic identity card.

When a Rwandan state representative devotes his public interventions to maintaining the idea that Hutu are collectively suspect, morally inferior or politically dangerous, he is symbolically reconstituting this type of system. He does not need identity cards to do so. He requires only a repeated discourse, a biased interpretation of history, and an institutional position that confers sufficient authority for his words to resonate as truths.

This is what Rwandan citizens and diaspora members describe as memorial apartheid: a two-speed regime of memory, where one community permanently bears the weight of collective guilt, whilst the other benefits from unconditional institutional innocence. This imbalance is not reconciliation. It is its exact opposite.

The Scandalous Double Standard: Hatred Tolerated Here, Condemned Elsewhere

One of the most striking dimensions of this situation is the extraordinary double standard that accompanies it. The Rwandan government is among the most active in denouncing, with legitimate vehemence, hate speech propagated in neighbouring countries, notably by armed groups operating in eastern Democratic Republic of Congo. Kigali regularly speaks out to condemn calls to ethnic violence circulating in the Great Lakes region.

These condemnations are just. They are necessary. They are morally grounded. But they are also profoundly hypocritical if, at the same time, members of the Rwandan government, beginning with Bizimana himself and other figures close to President Kagame, deliver discourses within the country and at meetings organised abroad that stigmatise an entire segment of the population.

The question then arises with particular acuity: how can a government denounce ethnic hatred at its borders whilst sowing it, even in institutionally dressed form, in its own public spaces? This contradiction is not only intellectually untenable. It is politically dangerous, because it discredits Rwanda's voice on the international stage and weakens its moral position in regional affairs where it plays a central role.

Paul Kagame: The Architect of a Narrative Control System

It would be inaccurate, and intellectually dishonest, to treat Bizimana as an isolated actor. The Minister of National Unity is the product of a system, and that system has an architect: Paul Kagame. The Rwandan president leads one of Africa's most centralised states, where major political, memorial and narrative orientations are defined at the apex and cascaded through all levels of the administration.

The precedents are eloquent. When Kagame publicly describes Victoire Ingabire as a "small woman who cannot be president of Rwanda" before she is imprisoned, he sends a clear signal about how the power treats dissenting voices. When journalists, opponents or ordinary citizens who dare question the official narrative find themselves marginalised, prosecuted or forced into exile, the message becomes even clearer.

In this context, Bizimana does not merely speak. He implements a policy. He executes a vision. And that vision, as perceived by a growing number of Rwandans, is one of a social order where ethnic identity, officially denied, continues subterraneously to structure relations of power, legitimacy and suspicion.

The Ordinary Terror of an Institutionalised Discourse

Terror is not always spectacular. It is not always comprised of physical violence or arbitrary arrests, although these realities also exist in Rwanda according to numerous testimonies and reports from international human rights organisations. Terror can also be that of a Rwandan of Hutu origin who navigates daily in a public space knowing that their background can, at any moment, be turned against them. Who knows that a misinterpreted remark, a suspicious acquaintance or an opinion expressed too freely can suffice to place them under the accusatory gaze of a system that holds them presumptively suspect.

This type of diffuse terror is particularly insidious, because it does not need to manifest itself openly to be effective. It operates through anticipation. It drives self-censorship, surface conformity and pre-emptive silence. In a country aspiring to build active, engaged and free citizenship, this is a slow and devastating poison.

A Diaspora That Refuses to Be Silent

Faced with this situation, the Rwandan diaspora, particularly in Europe and North America, is playing an increasingly important role. Removed from the direct constraints of power, it speaks with growing frankness. And what it says deserves to be heard, not because all its positions are necessarily accurate in their details, but because they testify to a lived reality that official statistics fail to capture.

When meetings organised in France by Bizimana are described as spaces of stigmatisation and targeted denunciation against individuals or groups implicitly defined by their ethnic belonging, this should seriously concern French authorities. France has a robust legal arsenal against incitement to ethnic, racial or religious hatred. These laws apply to everyone on French territory, regardless of the function of the speaker or the nature of the platform used.

The principle is simple: what is condemnable in France when said by any ordinary citizen cannot become acceptable because it is said by a foreign minister on an official visit. The dignity of persons and protection against discrimination cannot be negotiated case by case according to the status of the speaker.

What National Unity Truly Requires

National unity is a noble and necessary project. In Rwanda, it is also an existential necessity. But it cannot be built upon a lie, upon a contradiction between what the state says and what it does, between the official doctrine of equality among Rwandans and the practice of institutionalised ethnic suspicion.

Genuine national unity demands several fundamental conditions. It requires that responsibility be individual and never collective. It requires that every citizen, regardless of their origin, have the certainty that their rights are guaranteed and their dignity respected. It requires that institutions set the example of measured, precise and non-discriminatory language. And above all, it requires that voices expressing concern be able to do so without being immediately assimilated into enemies of the nation.

Conclusion

What numerous Rwandans are denouncing through Jean-Damascène Bizimana's discourses goes well beyond the person of the minister himself. It is an entire system of ethnicised management of the national narrative that is in question. A system that, under cover of memory and unity, perpetuates a logic of institutional discrimination against a portion of the population. A system that condemns ethnic hatred beyond its borders whilst tolerating it, in dressed and institutional forms, within.

Rwanda has achieved a remarkable recovery since 1994. But the true greatness of a nation is not measured solely by its economic growth or security stability. It is also measured by its capacity to treat each of its citizens with equal dignity, without distinction of origin, and to hold a public discourse that unites rather than fractures. On this specific terrain, and according to the testimonies of numerous Rwandans, there remains considerable ground yet to be covered.

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Frequently Asked Questions

Why are Bizimana's discourses compared to apartheid? The term memorial apartheid describes a system in which Hutu are collectively treated as suspect or morally inferior, whilst Tutsi benefit from unconditional institutional innocence. This binary logic is based on ethnic belonging rather than individual responsibility.

Why is there talk of a double standard in Rwanda's case? The Rwandan government condemns ethnic hate speech in neighbouring countries whilst tolerating, according to numerous testimonies, stigmatising remarks about Hutu in its own public spaces and at meetings organised abroad.

Are Bizimana's meetings in France legal under French law? France has strict laws against incitement to racial and ethnic hatred. Remarks targeting a group on the basis of ethnic belonging are subject to judicial proceedings, regardless of the speaker's nationality or function.

What is Paul Kagame's role in this policy? As architect of a highly centralised system, Kagame defines the political and memorial orientations that ministers, including Bizimana, are charged with implementing. The two men share the same vision of national narrative control.

How does this situation affect Rwandan youth? Young Rwandans born after 1994 who perceive an institutional discourse holding them collectively suspect on account of their origin may develop either surface-level compliance or deep resentment. Neither is conducive to building a stable society.

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References

Human Rights Watch (2023). Rwanda: Repression and Diaspora Control. Available at: www.hrw.org

Reyntjens, F. (2013). Political Governance in Post-Genocide Rwanda. Cambridge University Press.

Lemarchand, R. (2009). The Dynamics of Violence in Central Africa. University of Pennsylvania Press.

Longman, T. (2017). Memory and Justice in Post-Genocide Rwanda. Cambridge University Press.

Amnesty International (2022). Rwanda: Annual Human Rights Report. London: Amnesty International.

Republic of Rwanda (2003). Constitution of the Republic of Rwanda. Kigali.

International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (2015). Core Principles of Delivered Judgements. United Nations.

Hatzfeld, J. (2007). The Antelope's Strategy: Living in Rwanda after the Genocide. Farrar, Straus and Giroux.