In a development that's bound to leave historians, justice advocates, and victims of genocide shaking their heads in disbelief, Edouard Karemera — yes, the same Edouard Karemera convicted by the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR) for his leading role in the Genocide Against the Tutsi — has published a sequel. Not to a crime novel, but to his own brand of creative nonfiction, titled “Rwandan Drama: The Other Side of the Genocide.” Perhaps Amazon should consider adding a new genre: “War Crimes Apologia.” In this latest tome, Karemera, whose credentials include being the second-in-command of the genocidal National Republican Movement for Democracy and Development (MRND) regime — think Goebbels if you will — repackages an all-too-familiar story. No, not the story of one of the most meticulously orchestrated genocides of the 20th century, but the one where the real villains are the very people who dared to stop it. How dare they, right? The book’s overview reads like the wishful thinking of a man who, despite his stellar record in orchestrating mass murder, now wishes to be cast as a misunderstood truth-teller. According to Karemera’s tale, numerous “credible sources, including defectors from the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF), have uncovered a grand conspiracy — one where, shockingly, the RPF and their international allies stand accused of war crimes. Because who else but the victors of a genocide, those who actually stopped it, would be responsible for all the evil in the world? Of course, Karemera doesn’t disappoint in his analysis of the ICTR either. In his view, the Tribunal — specifically designed to hold genocidaires accountable — was nothing more than a kangaroo court, rigged by the winners. Apparently, the court’s failure lies not in convicting architects of mass slaughter like him but in failing to equally prosecute those dastardly RPF forces, who had the audacity to overthrow his genocidal regime. It’s like reading a war criminal’s open letter to The Hague, but with more self-pity and a touch of Orwellian doublethink. If you listen closely, you can almost hear the world's smallest violin playing in the background. And then there’s the delightful trope of false accusations against the innocent masterminds of the genocide. Karemera paints a picture where these poor defendants, himself included, were framed by a vengeful RPF. Never mind that over a million Tutsis were butchered in broad daylight; that’s just a small, inconvenient footnote in Karemera’s alternate history. It’s like handing Himmler a pen and asking him to write “The True Story of World War II: Allies Exposed.” But here’s where it gets truly remarkable: Karemera somehow expects the world to swallow this revisionist garbage whole. He sent extensive correspondence to judges and decision-makers around the world, he claims, presumably in a series of increasingly desperate letters that likely begin with “Dear Sir or Madam, have you considered that I might actually be the good guy here?” Misunderstood criminals? What’s most astounding is the audacity of Karemera’s defenders to frame this as just “the other side of the story,” as though there’s a valid counterpoint to genocide. What’s next? A podcast series titled Hitler’s Diaries: The Uncensored Truth? Don’t laugh too hard — Karemera’s book is available on Amazon, after all. Perhaps it’s only a matter of time before genocidaires start launching TED Talks, lamenting how misunderstood their ideologies were. Now, if you’re wondering how a man convicted for genocide can manage to publish not one, but two books defending his actions, all while global retailers happily stock them, you’re not alone. Imagine, if you will, what would happen if the second-in-command of the Nazi regime published a book today. Would it, too, be sold on mainstream platforms? Would it, too, be hailed as a “debate-starter” for presenting “the other side of history”? The fact that Karemera's revisionist drivel is being platformed at all should make anyone question why such material isn’t met with the same societal outrage reserved for Holocaust denial. Apparently, denial of the Genocide Against the Tutsi is still fair game. After all, why let a little thing like historical truth get in the way of a genocidaire’s career in fiction? But don’t worry — Karemera insists he won’t give up the fight. Because when you’ve been convicted for orchestrating a genocide, what’s left to fight for except the erasure of your victims and a good spot on the bestseller list? So here we are, everyone. In a world where facts can be warped, and genocidaires can rebrand as misunderstood authors, it seems justice is just one alternative history book away from oblivion. “The Other Side of the Genocide,” Karemera takes readers on a remarkable journey into a world where victims are perpetrators, truth is falsehood, and mass murder becomes nothing more than a political disagreement. Karemera’s book overview is a dazzling blend of deflection, self-pity, and “whataboutism.” It claims that the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR), despite finding him guilty of organizing one of the most horrific genocides of the 20th century, was somehow too lenient toward his enemies. According to Karemera, it is not the mass graves, the systematic slaughter of Tutsis, or the Interahamwe militias roaming the streets with machetes that deserve attention. No, no. The real tragedy, in Karemera’s view, is the failure to prosecute the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) and leave the genocide perpetrators free. The cherry on top? This absurdity isn't circulating in some dark corner of the internet — it’s proudly available for sale on Amazon! Yes, in the same digital aisle where you might pick up a memoir by Elie Wiesel or The Diary of Anne Frank, you can now casually purchase the revisionist musings of a man who helped orchestrate the murder of over a million innocent people. It’s almost like finding a cookbook penned by Josef Goebbels sharing space with your mother's favorite sweet course recipes. But Karemera’s tome is not just any revisionist history — it’s a masterclass in the “blame the victims” genre. As any good denialist knows, the first rule is to reverse the roles: Why accept responsibility when you can brand those who stopped you as the true criminals? Karemera recycles tired claims, trotting out credible testimonies from former RPF members — those disgruntled few who’ve found it profitable to rewrite history. Throw in a few unnamed “international experts,” perhaps a dash of ICTR criticism, and voilà! You have a concoction that allows genocidaires to not only claim innocence but paint themselves as misjudged martyrs. Of course, the book’s release would not be complete without the obligatory cry of injustice toward the ICTR. Karemera moans that the tribunal was biased, failing to combat impunity— as if his own lengthy trial and conviction were somehow just bureaucratic paperwork. According to him, the world failed to listen to the genocidaires’ side of the story, and they were unjustly accused by — wait for it —false accusations propagated by the Kigali regime. Now, for anyone versed in history, this raises a question: Imagine a world where one of the Nazi Party’s seconds-in-command had the audacity to release a book on Amazon in which they lamented being misrepresented by those pesky Holocaust survivors. Picture Hermann Göring lamenting that the Nuremberg Trials were “one-sided,” as if justice hadn’t caught up to him. Would the world tolerate such nonsense? No. But here we are, where genocide denial not only gets published — it gets platformed. And let’s not forget the dramatic flair of Karemera’s second instalment on the “Rwandan drama.” Like any great sequel, it promises to reveal what’s “deliberately concealed” by Rwandan and international bodies. We can only imagine what other surprises Karemera has up his sleeve. Perhaps in the next volume, we’ll learn that genocidaires were simply misunderstood humanitarians, or maybe they were unwittingly victims of a rogue machete supplier? Stay tuned! The publication of books like Karemera’s, which not only rewrite history but trample on the graves of genocide victims, speaks volumes about the double standards we live with. Would Amazon dare to sell a book denying the Holocaust, blaming the victims, and glorifying its perpetrators? Of course not. Yet here we are, where a convicted genocidaire, fresh off his ICTR conviction, is given prime shelf space in the marketplace of ideas. Karemera’s literary ambitions should remind us that genocide denial, much like genocide itself, doesn’t just happen — it’s enabled. It thrives in environments where silence, complicity, and even commerce conspires to keep the past in the past. What’s next? A cosy book signing tour? A Netflix adaptation? Maybe they can title it Gaslighting, But Make It Historical. From genocide conviction to academic reverence Augustin Ngirabatware, notorious son-in-law of Felicien Kabuga — the infamous financier of the Genocide Against the Tutsi — might have expected that the world would be too distracted to notice his contribution to literature. In August 2006, a year before his 2007 arrest in Frankfurt and subsequent transfer to the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR) headquarters in Arusha, he published ‘Rwanda: The Rise of Lies and Injustice.’ This bold publication, produced by Sources du Nil, attempted to cast doubt on the legitimacy of the ICTR and audaciously rewrote history in a defence of his actions and those of genocidaires. Ngirabatware’s narrative in his book attempts to invalidate the ICTR, a body that prosecuted those most responsible for the genocide. He brands the tribunal as a charade of international law, disparaging its mandate and questioning its premises. For a man awaiting international prosecution, the book was more than an expression of opinion; it was a blatant attempt to skew history in his favour, casting genocidaires as victims of an oppressive international conspiracy. The audacity to publish this work, despite his fugitive status, reveals his confidence that such ideas might not only survive but thrive under the right conditions. But Ngirabatware’s influence did not remain confined to the twisted arguments within his book. His words found a new platform in academic circles, bringing a scary reminder that genocidal ideology, if given legitimacy, can seep into spaces meant to uphold critical inquiry. His 2006 manifesto found its way into the doctoral thesis of a University of Ottawa — Canada law student, Célestin Hitimana, who in 2009 quoted Ngirabatware and Karemera — a fellow convicted genocidaire — in Les obstacles procéduraux à la répression interne des crimes de guerre et des crimes contre l'humanité.’ Under the guise of academic analysis, this thesis extends Ngirabatware’s vitriolic narrative to unsuspecting readers. At a glance, Hitimana’s thesis may appear to simply critique procedural complexities. However, a closer look reveals an alarming endorsement of Ngirabatware’s attempt to delegitimize the ICTR and reframe the tribunal as an institution of selective justice. Hitimana, armed with Ngirabatware’s rhetoric, argues that the tribunal failed because it allegedly refrained from prosecuting “individuals close to the current Rwandan government.” Hitimana weaves Karemera and Ngirabatware’s statements into his doctoral thesis as though these convicted criminals were authorities on how to fight human rights abuses, ironically praising them as voices of “truth” against an unjust system. For survivors of the Genocide Against the Tutsi, such academic legitimization is more than insulting—it is existentially dangerous. Genocidaires are not mere criminals; they are architects of ethnic hatred and perpetrators of atrocities on a scale difficult to comprehend. By placing their words on the pedestals of libraries and thesis citations, academia risks normalizing their agenda. This is no abstract problem: the 1994 genocide was not fueled by coincidence but by years of ideological preparation. It is precisely this kind of insidious discourse that Ngirabatware and Kabuga, through their connections and wealth, sowed across Rwanda, resulting in the horrific massacre of the Tutsi population. Indeed, Ngirabatware’s confidence was not misplaced. Hitimana, in his thesis, appears captivated by this alternate “truth,” describing the tribunal as an institution motivated by political concerns and selective in its application of justice. He repeats Ngirabatware’s claims that if the ICTR prosecuted Rwandan government officials, it would jeopardize Rwanda’s cooperation in prosecuting Hutu genocidaires. Karemera, emerges in Hitimana’s thesis as an indignant voice against “proven criminals” who, allegedly, enjoy impunity thanks to the ICTR’s selective process. This irony is thick enough to cut with a machete. It’s like a fox accusing the farmer of favoritism for fencing in certain animals while others roam free. Existential danger Here, Hitimana’s logic borders on the surreal: rather than scrutinizing those responsible for one of the most brutal genocides in recent history, he condemns the ICTR for allegedly prioritizing stability and evidence-gathering. He paints genocidaires as “victims” and declares the tribunal’s actions a betrayal of “true justice.” The risks of this ideology cannot be overstated. By embedding Ngirabatware’s arguments into academic discourse, Hitimana’s thesis opens the door for such poisonous ideas to be mistaken for legitimate analysis. His work cloaks genocidal apologism in the academic language of “justice” and “rights.” This is more than just historical revisionism; it is the killing of the very concept of truth. The survivors of genocide and the families of those lost are forced to relive the trauma, witnessing perpetrators’ perspectives infiltrating institutions that should instead champion rigorous truth-seeking and moral responsibility. When respected institutions lend credibility to the works of genocidaires, they provide a platform for historical distortions to flourish. A thesis built on Karemera and Ngirabatware’s vitriol is more than an intellectual exercise—it is an existential threat to Rwanda and to humanity. It fosters an environment where genocidal ideology is granted an academic home, accessible to future scholars who may fail to recognize the genocidal intentions behind these narratives. Attempts to rewrite history, supported by Hitimana’s eager citations covered by the University of Ottawa, underscores a perilous trend. This goes beyond misguided admiration for controversial “authors.” It veers into a territory where convicted genocidaires, with their agendas of ethnic hatred, are granted posthumous legitimacy in academic circles. When these views seep into academia, they do not remain confined to a single thesis or citation. They ripple outward, affecting minds, shaping discourses, and, eventually, influencing policies. By lending credence to genocidal rhetoric, academia fails its duty to humanity. It allows the architects of violence a second chance to manipulate truth, continuing to poison societies from beyond prison walls. The pages of Hitimana’s thesis bear witness to how easily hate can be sanitized and repackaged as “critical inquiry.” For the sake of truth, justice, and the survivors of the Genocide Against the Tutsi, we must confront this disturbing trend head-on and ensure that institutions stand firm against any and all attempts to mask genocidal rhetoric as scholarship. In the meantime, those of us with a grip on reality will continue to call out these revisionist efforts for what they are: dangerous distortions, not just of history but of basic human decency. So, for those inclined to grab a copy of Ngirabatware and Karemera’s latest revelations, be ready to also pick up some facts—perhaps they’ll help wash down the poison. @TomNdahiro
