Ladies and gentlemen, students of history, politics, and the harsh lessons of humanity, take a seat. You are about to attend a lecture that, quite frankly, should never have been necessary in the first place. In this course, we explore one of the most profound failures in the annals of modern history: how the international community, from the United Nations to regional organizations, consistently and resoundingly ignored the red flags of impending genocide. And yes, it’s happening all over again. This isn't just a retelling of a grim chapter from Rwanda in 1994—this is a lesson that must be learned, again and again, lest we repeat the catastrophic mistakes of the past. You see, it’s January 11, 2025, and it is time to revisit that fateful day from 1994. You remember the Genocide Fax, don't you? The one sent by General Roméo Dallaire, the commander of UNAMIR in Rwanda, to his superiors in New York, warning them of the horrors to come. A fax that described the imminent threat of mass killings and identified caches of weapons—because what is war if not the brutal execution of a plan? The fax was clear, urgent, and ominous, yet the response from the international community was the same as it had been for years: indifference. By the time the world took notice, the massacre of over a million Tutsis was already underway. The message of Dallaire, alongside other warnings like Leon Mugesera's genocidal speech and the incendiary broadcasts of Radio Télévision Libre des Mille Collines (RTLM), were all but ignored. The rest, as they say, is history—an incomprehensible history of inaction, and one that has left scars on humanity's conscience. But fast-forward to today. What are we seeing in the Democratic Republic of Congo? We are witnessing a deadly, slow-motion repeat of that very history, and this time, it’s not just happening on the radio or in speeches. This time, it’s happening on the ground, in real time, with the complicity of local authorities, armed militias, and the international peacekeepers who have been either too timid or too entangled in their own bureaucratic failures to act. Let’s not forget European mercenaries. In both Rwanda in 1994 and the DR Congo today, hate-filled rhetoric serves as the breeding ground for mass violence. Propaganda, especially when broadcast and amplified through state-controlled media and unchecked hate speech, becomes the silent killer. Take, for example, the role of RTLM before April 7th, 1994. The station, which was more like an arm of the genocidal government than a news outlet, continuously broadcasted calls to kill Tutsis. These weren’t mere “opinions”; they were direct incitements to mass murder. The airwaves were flooded with communications that created the conditions for an entire population to turn into perpetrators, complicit in the slaughter of their own countrymen. The message was clear: The Tutsis were the enemy, and to kill them was an act of loyalty to the nation. One broadcast didn’t just call for violence—it legitimized it. Fast-forward to January 2025 in the DR Congo, and the situation is disturbingly similar. The words of Congolese officials like Patrick Muyaya and Justice Minister Constant Mutamba—who have publicly called for the silencing of journalists and threatened death penalties for truth-tellers—are nothing less than the echoes of the hate-filled rhetoric that led to the Genocide Against the Tutsi. And what are the authorities in the DR Congo doing? Instead of heeding the warning signs, they are playing the same game of silencing those who speak the truth and offering full-throated support to genocidaires, including factions like the FDLR. These are the same groups that perpetrated the genocide in Rwanda, and they are now being treated as “legitimate resistance” in the DR Congo. They are trained, armed, and protected, and in return, they propagate the same toxic ideology that set Rwanda on fire in 1994. But let us go further. Let us explore how the DR Congo government, much like the genocidal regime of Juvenal Habyarimana, has embraced the very same hate-driven rhetoric. Take, for instance, the comparisons between the genocidal pamphlet Kangura and the modern-day propaganda of the DR Congo government. The Kangura—with its infamous 10 Hutu Commandments published in December 1990—laid out the explicit instructions for the Hutu majority to unify against the Tutsi “enemy.” Commandment 9 instructed that “the Hutu, wherever they are, must have unity and solidarity and be concerned with the fate of their Hutu brothers.” And the 10th commandment was no less chilling: “The Social Revolution of 1959, the Referendum of 1961, and the Hutu Ideology, must be taught to every Hutu at every level.” These words were not just catchphrases. They were a call to arms. They were a direct blueprint for the destruction of an entire identifiable group. And just as these commandments were enforced by violence, so too is a similar discourse taking root in the DR Congo today. The government of President Tshisekedi has used euphemisms like “patriotic forces” to describe militias that target Tutsi, Hema, and Banyamulenge populations. Just as the MRND in Rwanda created the Interahamwe and Impuzamugambi— as “Republican Civil Defense” forces—patriotic on paper but genocidal in practice—so too are the Mai-Mai, Nyatura, and FDLR in the DR Congo presented as patriotic “civil resistance forces” fighting against an imagined enemy, primarily “Rwandan agents.” But let’s take a moment here. What does this look like when you break it down? What’s the difference between the language of hate in Rwanda’s 1990s and what we’re hearing today in the DR Congo? Not much, I’d say. In both cases, the language is a tool to create the conditions for violence. In both cases, the state has allowed hundreds of militias to roam freely, armed to the teeth, with explicit instructions to target and exterminate “the other.” The same path is being walked by both regimes—whether it’s a matter of Hutu supremacist ideology in Rwanda or the anti-Tutsi, anti-Rwandan discourse in the DR Congo. Remember the fax? And let’s not forget the Genocide Fax from UNAMIR's General Dallaire, sent on January 11, 1994. This fax was a clear warning—detailed and prescient about plans of the cataclysm. I wish the Fax message was more about the dangers of allowing hate speech to fester unchecked. Dallaire’s warning went unheeded, and by the time the international community acted, over a million of lives had been lost. The moral of that story is simple: vitriolic propaganda, when left unchecked, is more dangerous than any weapon. It creates a climate in which mass murder is possible. Now, in the DR Congo, we’re hearing the same threats against journalists and the same protection for genocidaires. Is this a coincidence? No. The FDLR—the very same genocidaires who fled Rwanda after the genocide—are now playing an instrumental role in perpetuating violence and hate in the DR Congo. They are the teachers in this deadly game, showing the next generation how to incite hatred, how to turn civilians into killers, and how to justify violence under the guise of patriotism. Let it be interactive. A student’s question: Student: “But why is it so dangerous to ignore inflammatory discourse? Isn’t it just free speech?” Answer: No, my dear student, it is not just free speech. It’s incitement. The kind of speech that makes people believe that they are justified in killing their neighbors, their colleagues, their friends. That is what we’re seeing now in the DR Congo. Hate-filled rhetoric isn't harmless; it’s the spark that ignites the fire of violence. It creates a mob mentality, where ordinary people believe that mass murder is a righteous cause. Just look at Rwanda, where propaganda and hate speech turned neighbors into executioners. Inaction, too, has its own consequences. The UNAMIR mission in Rwanda, while well-meaning, was paralyzed by indecision. They had the information, they had the warnings, yet they stood by and watched. Today, MONUSCO is no different. The pattern is clear: from Dallaire’s fax to the present-day threats against journalists, the failure to act is not just a matter of negligence—it’s complicity. The UN, AU, EU, SADC, and EAC all have a responsibility to prevent violence, yet they remain silent in the face of clear signs of an impending genocide. A student’s question: Student: “What should we do now? What’s the solution?” Answer: The solution is simple: we must demand action. The countries must stop looking away. Belgium, France, and others with historical responsibility in Rwanda must stop burying their heads in the sand like ostriches. The world cannot afford to be passive any longer. The DR Congo is not Rwanda, but the signs are too similar to ignore. The international community must hold these governments accountable and act decisively to prevent another genocide. We must not wait until the world is drowning in blood once more. On this fateful day—January 11, 2025—we remember the Genocide Fax and the lives it could have saved if only the world had listened. Conclusion? Maybe not As we wrap up this rather unsettling lecture, we must reflect on the glaring echoes of history reverberating through the halls of power in the DR Congo today. And also, we must take a moment to reflect on what we have learned, and perhaps even more importantly, on what we have failed to learn. The warning signs in the DR Congo today are not only hauntingly familiar; they are a stark continuation of the same patterns that led to the Genocide Against the Tutsi. Just as the Kangura pamphlet in the early 1990s served as a call to arms for the Hutu population, instructing them to view any opposition as a traitor and a threat to their power, so too are we seeing the same tactics employed today in the rhetoric of Congolese officials like Patrick Muyaya and Justice Minister Constant Mutamba. Their recent pronouncements, threatening journalists with death or imprisonment for speaking out, are chillingly reminiscent of the Hutu-Power ideology that sought to label any dissenters as traitors to the nation. Just as the Kangura’s infamous 10 Hutu Commandments made it clear: if you disagreed with the genocidal agenda, you were the enemy. If you dared speak up for the rights of Tutsis, you were complicit in their supposed conspiracy against the Hutu people. Fast-forward to today, and what do we see? A similar template is unfolding before our eyes in the DR Congo, where those who challenge the government's narrative—particularly journalists—are not merely “incorrect” or “misguided,” but rather branded as enemies of the state. Much like the genocidaires who saw themselves as protectors of a Hutu identity, the officials of the DR Congo view disagreement as a betrayal of their constructed narrative, one that hinges on anti-Rwandan and anti-Tutsi ideologies. This philosophical symmetry is not lost on those who can see beyond the veneer of political rhetoric. It is a symbiotic relationship—one that draws from the well of genocidal logic, and yet wears a different mask. The FDLR, the same genocidaires responsible for the destruction in Rwanda, are now partners in this dance of destruction. They are not just perpetrators of violence; they are also the teachers, the ideological architects, helping to frame the political discourse that justifies the violence. Just as the government of Rwanda under Habyarimana was responsible in the creation of a genocidal state, the DR Congo government today is playing a role in crafting the ideological justification for similar horrors. The FDLR, by maintaining their right to exist as an armed group in the DR Congo, are once again positioned as a source of authority. And in that respect, their relationship with the state is symbiotic—each feeds off the other, and the result is an ever-growing climate of fear, hate, and impunity. This is not merely a political issue—it is a moral one. The international community's failure to intervene in both Rwanda in 1994 and the DR Congo today is a damning indictment of global inaction. But what is perhaps more unsettling, is the fact that we are witnessing the same dangerous forces at play, as the world continues to turn a blind eye. We are watching the rise of a new generation of patriots who justify violence by redefining the enemy. As history teaches us, it is never the weapon that kills first, but the words. And if we do not learn from the past—if we do not recognize the destructive power of language and its role in shaping ideologies—we risk allowing the cycle to repeat itself. As we stand at the crossroads of history, let this be a call not just for remembrance but for action. The words of the Kangura were the poison that infected a nation and allowed genocide to unfold. The words of Muyaya and Mutamba today, while wrapped in the cloak of political authority, are no less dangerous. They are the seeds of a new kind of violence, one that is more insidious because it hides behind the language of “patriotism” and “nationalism.” Just as we failed to act when we had the chance in 1994, so too must we refuse to fail again in 2025. The question is no longer whether we will learn from history, but whether we will allow it to repeat itself. Some countries like Belgium and France—must stop pretending they don’t see the writing on the wall. They should remember what happened in Rwanda before April 7, 1994. The same tactics, the same rhetoric, and the same players are at work. Will we stand by and watch once more, or will we finally confront this madness before it’s too late? The time to act is now—before the words become the bullets or machetes—that take us down the same tragic path we swore we would never walk again. Just as the genocide fax was ignored in 1994, let us not ignore the fax we are receiving today. The stakes are too high, and the consequences too severe. The world has to act—before the lessons of history become the tragedies of the present.
