Musical beats reverberate through the hills of Rubavu district in western Rwanda. From afar, it might sound like a festival, but as one draws closer thousands of people come into view, all dressed alike and waving small flags. The blue, red and white mirror the colors of the French or Dutch flags, except for one small detail: three letters on the flags, “FPR,” the French acronym for the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF), the ruling political party.
One name keeps repeating in the songs the crowd thunders: that of Paul Kagame, Rwanda’s president. The presence of fawning looks on the faces of so many people might seem surprising. In Rwanda, massive gatherings are uncommon, unless they are for commemorations or politics — which perhaps explains why the opening of this legislative and presidential campaign resembles a Taylor Swift concert. Kagame gets into a small chariot and waves to the ecstatic crowd before starting his speech. This spectacle stands out as the presidential campaign gains momentum in Rwanda.
His Excellency, as he is addressed in Rwanda, concludes his speech by affirming that Rwanda “is a democracy” and that voters are free to “make their own choices.”
Amid an atmosphere of repressed dissent and accusations of violence against party adversaries, it was widely expected that voting on July 15 would lead to Kagame being elected as president for the next five years, along with the deputies who will serve in Parliament. Barely six hours after the polls closed, preliminary results showed that Kagame had won 99% of the 79% of the ballots counted according to the country’s electoral body.
While there was always little doubt that the RPF would maintain its majority and Kagame would be reelected, the complex mix of love and fear that Kagame inspires among his people remains intriguing. Despite his dictatorial tone, Rwanda’s president is admired by a new generation that has only known his rule and his laws. Two-thirds of the country’s population is under the age of 30 and has only ever known one president and one dominant political party.
To understand Kagame’s hero image and cult of personality among Rwandans, one must look to Uganda, its northern neighbor. These nations not only share a volcanic landscape and the ethereal mist that envelops them, but also the famous mountain gorillas that attract around 30,000 tourists a year. While bilateral relations have recently soured, they were not always fraught. It was in Uganda that a young Kagame first cultivated a penchant for politics.
Born in 1957, Kagame and his family fled Rwanda for Uganda in 1961 to escape persecution against the Tutsi community. Aspiring to be a pilot, he spent his formative years in Uganda’s capital, Kampala, frequently crossing the border illicitly to Rwanda between 1976 and 1978 to spend time in his native country (Kagame’s refugee status in Uganda prohibited him from returning to Rwanda, hence the need to sneak in). During this period, he encountered Yoweri Museveni, Uganda’s current president, who had already established the revolutionary Front for National Salvation and played a pivotal role in ousting Idi Amin in 1979.
Driven by a thirst for action, Kagame joined the guerrilla ranks, reconnecting with his friend Fred Rwigema, the inaugural commander of the RPF, when it emerged years later. Following Museveni’s capture of Kampala in January 1986, Kagame ascended to the role of head of military intelligence, while Rwigema assumed the mantle of deputy minister of defense. But several years after appointing them, Museveni, who was under pressure from nationalists, removed Kagame and his fellow soldiers because of their Rwandan heritage. Following military training in Kansas in the United States, Kagame succeeded Rwigema as leader of the RPF after Rwigema’s mysterious death in October 1990, during the movement’s initial offensive in Rwanda.
On April 6, 1994, a plane was shot down in midflight. On board were two heads of state: Rwandan President Juvenal Habyarimana and his Burundian counterpart, Cyprien Ntaryamira. The next day, a call for violence and massacres against the Tutsi ethnic group echoed throughout the country. This was the prelude to a dark 100 days of mass killings. According to United Nations data, over 1 million Rwandans lost their lives, primarily Tutsis, who had long been targeted by the Hutus, the majority population in the country. The genocide was the culmination of decades of discrimination and incitement against Tutsis by extremist Hutus. Moderate Hutus were also killed, while nearly 250,000 women fell victim to rape.
With Museveni’s support, the RPF eventually seized control of the country, bringing an end to the genocide of the Tutsis in July 1994. And the rest is history: Kagame assumed power in 2000, though he was not formally elected president until 2003. He was then reelected in 2010, with 93% of the vote, and in 2017, with 98.8% of the vote. Constitutional changes voted on in 2015 mean that the next presidential term will be five years rather than seven.
Responses to Kagame’s apparent electoral success and staying power vary depending on who is asked. According to Odette Uwamariya, a member of the Parliament since 2018, 30 years “is not too long to be president.” She asserts: “The citizens are showing they appreciate us. It’s democracy, yes, but we still need him. Rwanda has made significant progress in these 30 years, but we still have a long way to go. By 2050, Rwanda should be even more advanced and developed.”
As Uwamariya is speaking to me at the campaign event, someone suddenly enters the tent and interrupts, looking visibly annoyed. The Parliament bus awaits, and the members of Parliament are running late. It’s time to leave but roads are blocked and people are crowded together, trying to find their way to buses that will take them back to remote villages nestled in the lush green hills. On this day, the crowd appears overwhelming. According to various later reports, one person died and around 30 were trampled on and injured.
Most of Kigali’s youth are eager to travel across the country to attend the president’s speeches and campaign events. Every speech, interview and ceremony are broadcast, and a significant portion of Rwanda’s youth take these occasions very seriously.
Robert Bex Mugabe epitomizes the “Kagame Generation.” Immersed in the history of the genocide throughout his life, his father, a prominent RPF member, was one of the 600 men who initiated the fight to end the slaughter. At 21, Mugabe is pursuing an economics degree at Kigali University. His greatest ambition is to honor his father by becoming a minister in the RPF. To Mugabe, the genocide resulted from “poor government management in 1994 and the division of power,” making the solution clear: a single party for a peaceful nation.
Nine parties hold seats in Parliament, but only one, the Democratic Green Party, stands apart from the RPF. This lone opposition party secured just two seats in the 2018 legislative elections. Looking at the traumas of the past, it is not difficult to see why the opposition represents such a small minority. The entire country still shudders from the ghosts of the genocide. On every street corner, behind every hill, outside every church, one can sense the horrors of the past: massacres, machete strikes and the stench of death. Bodies continue to be discovered with each new construction, ensuring that the nation never forgets its ordeal. This lingering trauma steers many voters toward Kagame.
The collective memory of the nation is omnipresent, discouraging the new generation from changing political direction. Every child in the Rwandan educational system is required to learn about the genocide as soon as they begin taking history classes. “Since high school,” Mugabe explains, “we have annual history classes about the genocide. We also have a civic program to deepen our historical understanding.” For the past 20 years, these courses have been integrated into Rwanda’s national education program to support the government’s “unity and reconciliation” efforts. And during those classes, every student also learns that Kagame saved the country.
After talking to Mugabe, I continue my walk around Kigali University. On a bench in front of the main gates, I meet another university student, Jeanette, who asks to go by a pseudonym as discretion and secrecy are paramount in Rwanda. After asking to share her seat, I start a conversation about politics in the country.
Although she is 24 and was born after the genocide, she carries the weight of losing her grandparents during that time. As she speaks, Jeanette scratches the leather of her designer bag with her colorful nails. Her dream is to become Rwanda’s first female president. “If Paul Kagame steps down when he’s old, of course,” but she adds quickly, “I could never replace him.” Jeanette admits she has a deep admiration for the president, insisting that “everyone should too,” because “Paul Kagame restructured the country, gave us infrastructure and security. We have roads, hospitals and schools. We are safe; what else do we need?” Neither she nor Mugabe understand how opposition parties could be popular. For them, “Paul Kagame is the hero of the nation, and no one can imagine the country without him,” as Jeanette asserts.
Youth in other cities seem to share their views and beliefs. Dorothee, 25, sits upright on the edge of her couch with her hands clasped as she reflects on her family’s past. In her dimly lit house in Kibuye, approximately 90 miles from Kigali, she whispers, “We should have been a large family, but my father’s first wife and their five children were murdered during the genocide.” The room is sparse, adorned only by a painting of Christ in one corner. No photographs or letters remain to preserve the memory of her lost relatives. “My father passed away from an illness, and we are confronted with the absence of any material memories of him. So for the genocide commemorations, we share his story so it is not forgotten,” she explains. Though Dorothee was not alive during the genocide, she knows the details by heart because, during the commemorations every April, she has to share her story with other members of her community.
Her father, fleeing his village of Kigarama in the Bisesero hills to escape the genocide, eventually settled about 18 miles away in Kibuye, where Dorothee now lives. Bisesero, initially a refuge for thousands of Tutsis at the beginning of the genocide, became the site of a brutal attack on May 13, 1994, orchestrated by Rwandan forces and members of Hutu extremist Interahamwe militias. The atrocities continued until the end of June, resulting in the massacre of more than 50,000 Tutsi civilians. Survivors, including Dorothee’s father, wandered for weeks before being rescued. “My father survived because the genocidaires wounded him in the leg with a machete and he pretended to be dead. Starving and sick, he was eventually rescued by RPF soldiers many days later,” Dorothee recounts, still stoic on her couch.
To prevent such massacres from happening again, she will vote for Kagame on July 15. When asked about the possibility of another genocide, Dorothee is indignant. “With a president like Paul Kagame, it is impossible for history to repeat itself,” she says.
Kagame’s grip extends far beyond the Parliament; the entire nation bows under his control. Anonymous sources claim that membership in the RPF is synonymous with privilege. Members’ children reportedly enjoy access to superior schools and opportunities, while their parents find smoother paths to employment and prestigious jobs. Recently, an investigation by the nonprofit organization Forbidden Stories highlighted various suspicious deaths of political opponents and journalists, accusing Kagame and his regime of being responsible. The government denied all the allegations. The same sources assert that voting for the RPF and Kagame is “mandatory” during elections. Informal gatherings, village megaphones and even threats have allegedly been employed to ensure the population turns out to vote on July 15.
Yet for the “Kagame Generation,” the idea of voting for anyone else is inconceivable. Sam, who is going by a pseudonym to protect her privacy, is a 23-year-old with the latest iPhone who frequents Kigali’s upscale restaurants and spends weekends in Gisenyi, where famous DJs from South Africa perform and the country’s liveliest parties take place. On July 4, Rwanda’s Liberation Day — coincidentally falling on America’s Independence Day — she reposted images from Kagame’s official Instagram account in her own story. For this young woman, the idea of supporting another candidate is unthinkable. “Who else?” she asks.
Indeed, who else? Kagame’s dominance leaves scant room for opposition both in and out of the political sphere. Nonetheless, some brave souls advocate for change, though their chances of entering the government, let alone holding the presidency, are virtually nonexistent for the foreseeable future.
In Kigali’s bustling Kimironko district, the faint murmur of dissent is detectable in the modest third-floor office of Frank Habineza. President of the Democratic Green Party, Habineza leads a small but determined opposition group that has faced considerable adversity since its inception in 2009. Initially denied recognition by the Rwandan authorities, the party’s struggles turned tragic in July 2010 when its vice president, Andre Kagwa Rwisereka, was beheaded. His killers were never brought to justice. Amid mounting threats, Habineza sought refuge in Sweden, returning to Rwanda in 2012 with renewed resolve. The party was finally approved in 2013, and in 2017, Habineza made history as the first opposition politician to run in the presidential elections, relinquishing his Swedish citizenship to do so. His campaign, however, garnered a mere 0.48% of the vote. The following year, his party gained two seats in the legislature.
Seated in a well-worn armchair, Patrick, a 29-year-old campaign manager for Habineza in the Western province, reflects on his political journey. He entered the political arena in 2017, driven by a belief in the dawn of a new political era for Rwanda. Habineza remains vague on the policies they would like to implement if in power. His primary goals are to make Rwanda more democratic and improve the standard of living for the 53% of Rwandans who live below the poverty line. He also wishes to make the country more eco-friendly through initiatives like reducing plastic waste and implementing recycling.
He notes that many genocide survivors find comfort in Kagame’s leadership and fear the uncertainty of change, which might be why few young Rwandans are as bold as Patrick in voicing their opposition publicly. However, his measured tone is telling. “Rwanda must move forward, but the current government is still doing a very good job,” he says, nervously crumpling a scrap of paper in his hand. Patrick is among the rare few of the “Kagame Generation” willing to consider voting for someone else, although he hesitates to criticize “His Excellency’s performance” outright. Instead, he acknowledges the need for change in the country.
Nevertheless, Patrick is optimistic about his country’s future. He envisions the gradual establishment of a genuine democracy and even dares to dream of an electoral victory for his candidate in the upcoming presidential elections. Yet the political landscape in Rwanda remains complex, and critics often dismiss the Democratic Green Party as merely a symbolic opposition. The constitution currently allows Kagame to rule for two more terms. Now that he has been reelected with over 90% of the vote, it is anticipated that he will hold on to power at least until 2034.
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