How the narratives presented both support and detract from peacebuilding
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1The 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi plays an extremely important role in secondary school history education, as evidenced by its repeated mention across levels and topics. Long gone are the days where discussion of the conflict was taboo in education (Buckley-Zistel, 2009; Henry, 2016). These efforts help keep the genocide at the forefront of society’s collective memory, fundamental to what it means to be Rwandan post-1994. This is partially evidenced by the sheer number of times the term ‘genocide’ is mentioned, remaining fresh and present in students’ minds even when the topic does not specifically cover the summer of 1994. 12 per cent of pages across all six levels contain a reference to genocide, the highest proportion found in Senior Six at 18 per cent, with each level containing at least one chapter entirely devoted to genocide studies. As such, students are given ample exposure not only to the events of the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi, but also to themes relating to genocide overall and the gravity associated with it. As an example, in Senior Six students are meant to spend 42 class periods studying the Liberation War and genocide prevention (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020h). Each class period lasts 40 minutes and upper secondary students are allocated seven class periods every week devoted to studying history (Rwanda Basic Education Board, n.d.). Therefore, in Senior Six alone, students spend 28 hours across almost seven weeks covering topics directly related to the genocide, not including any time spent at home doing assignments.
2Previous literature has shown how the absence of history education about a conflict during an interim period of reconstruction can be used to prevent ideologically driven narratives from resurfacing (Buckley-Zistel, 2009; Dy, 2013, 2015; Henry, 2016; Parliamentary Assembly, 2000), but as a longer-term strategy, avoiding talking about challenging content, such as in Northern Ireland (King, 2009) and Germany (I. Davies, 2000), or erasing information that runs counter to a group’s dominant narrative, such as in Republika Srpska (Muižnieks, 2017), may be a barrier to peacebuilding efforts. The question then is: does the inclusion of a significant amount of content such as is seen in the Rwandan case study necessarily aid in peacebuilding?
3A 2019 study found that the repetition of a statement, regardless of whether or not the said statement is deemed plausible at onset, increases the likelihood that a subject will believe it as truth (Fazio et al., 2019). As such, one could argue that the repetition of statements surrounding the 1994 Genocide acts as a tool against anti-historical narratives denying that the genocide took place, something considered incredibly threatening to peace both within the curriculum (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020j) and by external academic sources (Altanian, 2021; Bilali et al., 2019; Elósegui, 2017). If that is strictly the case, the logic would follow that the more time given in the curriculum would correlate with better outcomes. However, comprehensive inclusion of a conflict may not be inherently peacebuilding if the content itself is not beneficial to the cause. It is more than a numbers game, the intention behind its inclusion matters. In Cambodia, for example, violence under the Khmer Rouge regime was emphasised to stoke fear and hatred towards the group still active in the country. As such, it became a barrier to reconciliation (Dy, 2013). In contrast, the cross-curricular inclusion of Holocaust education in West Germany was a key part of their post-conflict reconciliation (Krieg, 2015). Which category Rwanda falls into depends largely on how the narratives are presented.
Structural narrative elements
4Structural components of conflict narratives provide a simplified storyline comprised of characters, plots, roles and motivations (Federman, 2016; Sanz, 2012). Through the identification of roles, they are able to legitimise protagonists and de-legitimise antagonists in the narrative (Federman, 2016). The definition of roles can have drastic impacts on the way the narrative unfolds. For example, education in Cambodia under the PRK government framed the Vietnamese forces as the saviours of Cambodia, occupying the hero role. While Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge were certainly portrayed as villains, students were taught that they were the puppets of China, which was a bigger villain, alongside the United States (Dy, 2015). Meanwhile, students living in Khmer Rouge controlled areas during the same time period were taught narratives where the Khmer Rouge was the hero and the Vietnamese were villainous foreign invaders (Munyas, 2008).
5Likewise, the narratives found in the Rwandan history textbooks clearly define the structural roles of the different ‘characters’ present and allow for an in-depth glimpse at what these roles look like in practice. The villains include the government, militia, security forces, media, broader population, and international community. They seek to eliminate those standing in the way of the current power structure, though the motivation of the latter can better be described as simply wanting to avoid responsibility. The victims include Tutsi and moderate Hutu, though society at large does suffer as a result of the unjust regime. Justice is only achieved through the work of the heroes, seeking to end the genocide and liberate Rwandan society.
Figure 3: Graphic representation of structural narrative elements

Source : author.
6This does not necessarily give the full picture, however. As Sanz (2012) argues, narratives are not merely formed of character archetypes with equal weight. They are divided into main and secondary characters. More time is devoted to understanding the main characters. They are given depth and definition, and their motivations are understood. In Rwandan textbooks, a prime example of this would be the RPF. Entire sections of units are devoted to understanding their role, such as in Senior Two and Senior Three. In studying the long exile, students are provided with an origin story (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020d, 2020k). They are introduced to heroic individuals within the RPF, such as Major General Fred Rwigema and the current President of Rwanda Paul Kagame (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020e, 2020k). Their motivations are defined and students are even encouraged to think from their perspective, giving justification for their actions and celebrating what they have achieved in the post-genocide era (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020k). Students are meant to express appreciation for the RPF (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020a), furthering the narrative’s role in garnering support for the ruling regime.
7Students also do not need to guess who the main villains of the story are, though there are many, because it is also explicitly defined in every textbook except Senior Five (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020c, 2020e, 2020d, 2020i, 2020k). Just like the RPF, the previous regimes including the colonial government, First Republic, and especially the Second Republic are also studied in detail and given depth. Students are introduced to these actors’ motivations, primarily the consolidation of power, and how targeting the Tutsi and rival Hutus helped them achieve these goals.
Figure 4: Graphic representation of main and supporting characters in the narratives differentiated by the size of box

Source: author.
8As important as understanding who the main characters are, it is also important to look at the ways that supporting characters are portrayed. There is no better example of this than the general Rwandan population, which is notably present in both the villain and victim categories. The UN estimated the population of Rwanda to be around 7 million in 1994 (United Nations, n.d.). At the time of the Arusha Peace Accords, there were an estimated 20,000 soldiers in the RPF’s RPA and 35,000 in the government’s FAR (African Union, 2000). Recent research using information gathered from the Gacaca courts, which were set up to help prosecute the perpetrators of the genocide, found an estimated 847,233 to 888,307 active participants (Nyseth Nzitatira et al., 2023). Even if one were to take the statistic of over one million Tutsi victims proposed by the textbooks (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020c, 2020d, 2020i, 2020j, 2020k), the majority of the population is still leftover. These groups were assigned three possible motivations. They could be motivated to support the RPF because the RPF represented liberation, they could be motivated to oppose them out of fear of reprisal from the ruling regime, or they could be mobilised to support the genocide as a result of indoctrination (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020h). Those belonging from the former category are the only ones free from culpability for the genocide. Alternate rationales for either action or inaction during the summer of 1994 that contradict this are obstructed by this clean, understandable narrative. Students may not be given the opportunity to see themselves, their family, and their community as part of a larger picture and address elements of historical memory unique to their situation (Edlmann, 2017). This creates a lost opportunity for important peacebuilding work.
The 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi as the centrepiece of modern Rwandan history
9As demonstrated across the literature relating to post-conflict education, determining how to approach the implications of a recent conflict can be a challenging task. Some may prefer to avoid discussion altogether, leaving dark parts of one’s history in the past for fear of resurgence or simply to move forward to a sense of normalcy (Dy, 2015). The case of Rwanda does the opposite, giving its discussion a central role. There is no desire to return to ‘normalcy’ as the status quo of the previous regime was fundamentally flawed and there seems to be a strong desire to show how those flaws were overcome. The framing of the genocide helps achieve this by acting as a narrative climax, delineating a tumultuous ‘before’ from the now peaceful ‘after’ built from the ashes of the worst humanity has to offer. In doing this, the genocide is not just something that happened to Rwanda, it is core to what it means to be Rwandan in the new millennium.
10The colonial and post-independence periods act as the rising action that ultimately leads to the genocide. The colonial Belgian administration is highlighted for formalising ethnic distinctions and manufacturing ethnic rivalry as part of a ‘divide and rule’ strategy common amongst colonial powers. While the colonial powers were originally cosy with the Tutsi elite and King Mutara III Rudahigwa, they favoured PARMEHUTU leaders in the transition between colonial rule and independence in opposition to the unity that the monarch allegedly represented (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020e, 2020i). In other words, they created an environment of disunity with a heavy focus on ethnic identity and subverting traditional power structures by supporting the PARMEHUTU.
11It is worth noting that the text separates the Tutsi elite privileged under Belgian colonial administration from other Tutsi in the country who did not receive the same benefits. It would be a stretch to say that the Tutsi elite during that time period were portrayed negatively in the text, but asserting that only a wealthy portion of the Tutsi population was favoured under colonial rule helps downplay the perceived differences between the two groups and aids in the overall narrative of victimhood for the Tutsi as a whole. Furthermore, very little is said to showcase the ways in which these Tutsi elite received special treatment during the colonial period, such as having preferential access to educational opportunities and a near monopoly on secondary education (Bush & Saltarelli, 2000; McLean Hilker, 2011; Taka, 2020), but much is said about the ways the Tutsi were denied educational opportunities in the Second Republic with the quota system (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020d, 2020j).
12If the stage for the genocide was set during the colonial period, the period from 1959 to 1994 could be seen as the rising action. In order to justify the 1990 ‘Liberation War’, it was important to establish what the RPF was liberating Rwandans from. As the narrative goes, the two post-independence republics were plagued by bad leadership, with privileged members of society held above the rest with little recourse for wrongdoing (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020e). This impacted everyone across the country, not just those targeted by the genocide. When discriminatory policies were discussed, such as the quota system for educational opportunities, they were portrayed with both ethnic and regional elements, put in place to benefit those who had the same intersecting identities as the ruling elite (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020d). In outlining the motivations for the RPF on the eve of war, the text dismisses any notion that the conflict broke out to simply subvert which ethnic group held power, rather its purpose was to fix the societal problems afflicting all those outside the political elite. In other words, it was a war of oppressed against oppressor, not Tutsi against Hutu.
13In a speech in 2019, President of the Chamber of Deputies Mukabalisa Donatille is quoted as saying:‘In fact, Rwanda was vowed to become a failed State. But we did not choose to disappear, we chose to live and recover our dignity as a nation. We chose to engage in the process of reconciliation and unity, not revenge that could only make things worse’ (The Parliament of the Republic of Rwanda, 2019).
14This is in line with how the textbooks portray post-genocide Rwanda. The consequences of the conflict stretch beyond direct loss of life, destroying vital systems in the country such as the economy and the education sector whilst adding drastically to the burden of the underdeveloped healthcare and justice systems that were ill-equipped to deal with the aftermath (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020d, 2020k).
15The way that the post-genocide government is discussed undoubtedly constitutes a state-supporting narrative, going as far as to claim that the GNU ‘eliminated’ discrimination (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020d), which certainly contradicts what some other scholars have written about this period (Davidson, 2018; Henry, 2016; Mutabazi, 2021). This is where the narrative loses its efficacy as a peacebuilding tool. By all means it is not encouraging students to pick up arms and prepare for battle in the same way that students educated in Khmer Rouge-controlled parts of post-conflict Cambodia were (Munyas, 2008). Nevertheless, for peacebuilding narratives to be effective, they need to be reflective of the lived experiences and changes in society (Bar-Tal et al., 2014). As the subsequent section examines changing narratives about the role of ethnicity in Rwandan society, this caveat is important to bear in mind.
The changing role of ethnic identity in Rwanda
16For many scholars, there is little doubt that the violence against the Tutsi in 1994 targeted victims specifically for their perceived ethnic identification1 (Hintjens, 1999; Magnarella, 2005; Mutabazi, 2021; Uvin, 1997). This is certainly reflected in the narrative about the conflict presented in the textbooks. The textbooks touch on the intercommunal distrust that emerged post-conflict (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020d, 2020k). Davies (2004) provides two, admittedly challenging in practice, suggestions for educational systems to take up in order to reduce their impact on creating essentialist identities, as had been prevalent leading up to the 1994 Genocide. This involves both acknowledging the complex layers of individual identity that extend beyond a single label and avoiding using stereotypes to disparage societal out-groups.
17Immediately post-genocide, some survivors interpreted anyone from the Hutu group who had been present in Rwanda during the conflict as a participant in the genocide, regardless of individual actions. In other words, collective responsibility was dispensed along purely ethnic lines, removing stories of Hutu people who had put themselves at great personal risk to defend their Tutsi neighbours (Mutabazi, 2021). This response represented the continuation of essentialist identities within Rwanda, which can be dangerous as they portray one group as being incompatible with others and deserving of mistreatment (Torsti, 2007). This is seen in cases such as that of Bosnia and Herzegovina, where essentialist ethnic identities serve as a barrier to post-conflict reconciliation across the three major ethnic groups (Muižnieks, 2017; Swimelar, 2013; Torsti, 2007). This is something that, at least to some extent, is combatted in the current versions of the textbook.
18Students are taught that the divisions were artificially strengthened and perpetuated unequal power dynamics, first at the hands of the Belgian colonial administration and later by the governments of the First and Second Republics (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020e, 2020d, 2020i). In doing so, the weight of these identities is diminished as they are portrayed as less legitimate. This is especially emphasised in the Senior One section providing students with guidance as to how to form their individual identities as part of the larger Rwandan collective (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020c), in a way that fundamentally changes the process of self-identification in Rwanda. Students are taught to no longer identify by the tribal designations that were instrumental in fuelling the violence in 1994, but rather to focus on their national identity.
19Historically speaking, this combined de-emphasis of internal divisions in favour of identities cemented in societal unity is not a unique approach for states to take (Buckley-Zistel, 2009; Gallagher, 2004). Bush and Saltarelli (2000) argue that moving away from narratives claiming one group within a country has a monopoly on legitimate citizenship by emphasising common ground between groups is a way that education can contribute positively to peacebuilding efforts. As the Tutsi were portrayed as being outside oppressors by regimes (Taka, 2020), this emphasis on everyone being fundamentally Rwandan could be one way of combatting a previous conflict-supporting narrative.
20However, the technique used in Rwanda to erase ethnic differences is not free from consequence, as some members of the Twa group have argued the institutionalised removal of ethnic identities from Rwandan society has erased their distinct culture and ignored discrimination faced from both governmental decisions and society at large (Unrepresented Nations and Peoples Organizations, 2015). Calling back to the framework presented by Davies (2004), the de-emphasis of ethnic identity may achieve one goal of reducing the presence of negative stereotypes but ignores the fact that ethnicity may still be important to the construction of one’s complex multi-faceted identity and cannot simply be wished away by a top-down approach. Buckley-Zistel (2009) suggests that, as the RPF has historically consisted of Tutsi returnees from exile and continues to dominate Rwandan politics, the exclusion of ethnicity from public discourse effectively masks minority rule and allows for the easy elimination of opposition that, at least in 2009, created resentment from both Hutu and Tutsi and damaged peacebuilding efforts. In light of this, the narrative is, at best, a mixed bag, and at worst could potentially contribute to future conflicts down the line.
Inclusion of Hutu victims
21In her 2016 analysis of the Rwandan education system, Henry notes that the curriculum erased the existence of victims outside the Tutsi group, such as the moderate Hutus killed for their refusal to participate in the genocide (Henry, 2016). In the 2020 textbooks, these moderate Hutu victims are recognised, albeit with far less frequency than Tutsi victims (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020c, 2020e, 2020d, 2020k). Be that as it may, their recognition is notable. Some scholars have noted the absence of Hutu victims from the national narrative surrounding the genocide and the impact that has had on accessing post-conflict justice and support (Davidson, 2018; Guichaoua, 2020). After a conflict, there is a tendency for groups to focus on their own suffering and victimhood, which creates an incongruence of understanding between two groups (Bar-Tal et al., 2014). As such, the inclusion of these Hutu victims represents a positive step.
22This inclusion is not so much adding a new narrative to provide a different perspective as it is adapting the existing narrative to be more nuanced in the discussion of Hutu involvement in the conflict. The text makes an effort to distinguish between the Hutu extremists who committed atrocities and moderates who suffered at their hands. This can be seen as another way of combating the previously mentioned blanket guilt cast upon all members of the Hutu group. The textbooks make it explicit that while Hutus from all portions of society can be implicated in the conflict, this does not mean that all Hutus were (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020e). On the one hand, members of the opposition are portrayed as ‘evil’, juxtaposed to the apparent heroism of the RPF and RPA (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020k). On the other hand, some members of the Hutu group are now able to share, in part, in this heroism. They are considered to be patriots, having fought against the genocide (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020e). Moreover, they access the right to victimhood. Their suffering now has some level of legitimacy.
23The same cannot be said for civilians that died in the broader context of the civil war surrounding the genocide (Federation Internationale Des Droites De L’Homme et al., 1993). Out of all six books, there are only four sentences mentioning said civilian victims (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020e, 2020h). The Senior Five unit on genocide denial denounces any figures ‘overemphasising’ Hutu deaths as a form of genocide denial, as they minimise the gravity of the genocide. Furthermore, too much discussion of these deaths could run the risk of being considered interpretive genocide denial as described in Senior Five, as may be used to justify the actions of genocidaires (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020j). These deaths may contradict the narrative proposed showcasing the RPF as the faultless liberator for all Rwandans from tyranny - a false dichotomy whereby the acknowledgement of civilian deaths during the civil war somehow negates the suffering of Tutsi and moderate Hutu during the genocide.
Adherence to a single narrative
24In discussing how to improve the efficacy of post-conflict education, Munyas (2008), McLean Hilker (2011), and Keaveney (2009) mention the importance of introducing multiple perspectives to encourage critical engagement from the students. This is something that is largely missing from the Rwandan context, a notion reflected in Jessee’s (2021) analysis of government-supported genocide memorial sites. Students are instead taught to reject anything that does not fit into the dominant narrative as genocide ideology or genocide denial. For example, students are repeatedly presented with the statistic that over one million Tutsis were killed over the course of the genocide (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020c, 2020d, 2020i, 2020j, 2020k) as an undisputable fact. So indisputable, that minimising this figure is tantamount to genocide denial (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020j).
25However, this does not reflect the reality that accurately determining the number of victims is difficult. Different methodologies can produce different figures depending on the data source and how it is interpreted, with figures ranging from 206,000 to 1,744,000 (Guichaoua, 2020). For example, for scholars relying on official government census data, the figure mentioned in the textbook would be impossible as there were fewer than one million Tutsi living in Rwanda at the time (Verpoorten, 2005). Rather than teaching students how to critically engage with statistics or even explaining why certain methodologies may undercount or overcount victims, the textbook attributes malice to contradicting research and encourages students to reject contradictory information without further investigation. According to Bar-Tal (2014), discrediting sources providing counter-narratives is one way of ensuring the dominance of conflict-supporting narratives.
26This inclination towards a single narrative is not specific to one statistic but is repeated throughout the curriculum. Although every single textbook and teacher's guide instructs students to look outside the textbook for information in order to complete tasks, particularly through the internet (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020b, 2020c, 2020a, 2020e, 2020d, 2020f, 2020i, 2020g, 2020j, 2020h, 2020k, 2022), more research is needed to determine whether these introduced materials counterbalance this narrative trend. Nevertheless, the reality is that students are not bound to the classroom. Outside of formal education, they are exposed to a variety of different narratives depending on the experience of families and communities during the conflict, narratives that can be incongruent with each other if taken at face value (Buckley-Zistel, 2009). This is not unique to the Rwandan context and is a repeated theme in literature about post-conflict education (Boßmann, 1977; Gasanabo et al., 2016; Meseth & Proske, 2015; Munyas, 2008; Torsti, 2007).
27The solution proposed by the textbook is to dismiss conflicting narratives as genocide ideology, even if they occur within one’s own family. Their memories are not reliable, as they are told through the lens of what they had been indoctrinated into believing (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020j). In practice, however, students do not always produce an expected output of understanding when given a specific input of information. For example, in post-war Germany, students' knowledge was greatly shaped by parental influences, as well as mass media, contributing to low levels of historical knowledge and undesirable moral attitudes amongst German teenagers despite efforts made in history classes (Meseth & Proske, 2015). Students are told to reject what does not fit, but that does not always work. Even previous studies of Rwanda have found that the official narrative promoted by the state may be known as the publicly acceptable way to speak about the conflict, but not necessarily believed as truth (McLean Hilker, 2011). Furthermore, Edlmann (2017) argues that exposure to a broad range of narratives about a conflict, especially conflicting ones, is an important psychosocial element of the peacebuilding process. The absence of it leaves a gap that may lead to the deterioration of peace over time. Therefore, this adhesion to a single narrative may be detrimental to long-term peace in the country.
Notes de bas de page
1The textbooks refer to the genocide as being tribal in nature rather than ethnic (Rwanda Basic Education Board, 2020c) but make reference to ethnicity as a contributing factor.

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