It wasn’t a slow build-up that people just missed. Well, actually, that’s not entirely true. The tension had been simmering for decades, like a pressure cooker someone forgot on the stove, but the actual explosion? That was instant. If you want to know when did the Rwandan genocide began, the calendar points to April 6, 1994. Specifically, it was a little after 8:30 PM.
A plane carrying Juvenal Habyarimana, the Rwandan President, was shot out of the sky over Kigali. He was a Hutu. The plane was also carrying the President of Burundi, Cyprien Ntaryamira. Everyone died. Within hours, the roadblocks went up. Within hours, the killing started. It didn't take days for the violence to organize; the machinery was already oiled and waiting for a signal.
The Night the World Changed
History books like to give you neat dates, but the reality on the ground in Kigali that night was pure, unadulterated chaos. You have to imagine a city where neighbor suddenly turned on neighbor because of a radio broadcast. The RTLM (Radio Télévision Libre des Mille Collines) started broadcasting almost immediately, blaming Tutsi rebels for the plane crash. They didn't just report it; they incited a massacre.
The genocide didn't just "start" as a spontaneous riot. It was a state-sponsored project. The Interahamwe, which was basically a Hutu paramilitary youth wing, had been receiving training and machetes for months. When that plane hit the ground, the "work"—which is the chilling code word they used for the killings—commenced.
By the morning of April 7, the situation was irreversible. Prime Minister Agathe Uwilingiyimana, a moderate Hutu who could have perhaps stabilized the government, was tracked down and murdered by the presidential guard. They also killed the ten Belgian peacekeepers assigned to protect her. That was a strategic move. The killers knew that if they killed Western soldiers, the international community would likely tuck tail and run. They were right.
Why the Date April 6 Matters So Much
If you’re looking at when did the Rwandan genocide began, you can’t ignore the Arusha Accords. For a year or two before 1994, there was this fragile hope. Peace talks in Tanzania were supposed to end the civil war between the Hutu-led government and the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF), a rebel group mostly made up of Tutsi refugees.
Habyarimana had just signed off on some of these power-sharing agreements. Hardliners in his own circle hated it. They felt he was selling out "Hutu Power." This is why, even today, there is intense debate about who actually shot down the plane. Was it the RPF rebels wanting to spark a final conflict? Or was it Hutu extremists who thought Habyarimana was becoming too soft?
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The International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda (ICTR) and various French and Rwandan investigations have spent decades digging through the wreckage of that Falcon 50 jet. Regardless of who pulled the trigger, the result was a vacuum. And in that vacuum, a pre-planned genocide was unleashed.
The Scale of the First 24 Hours
People often ask if there was a way to stop it in those first few hours. General Roméo Dallaire, who was leading the UN mission (UNAMIR) at the time, certainly thought so. But he was hamstrung. He had no mandate to use force. He was watching the "shadow of death" creep across the city and couldn't do a thing.
- Roadblocks were set up every few hundred yards.
- Identity cards were checked—if yours said "Tutsi," you were dead.
- Lists of names had been prepared in advance. This wasn't a "sudden" outburst of anger. It was an administrative execution of a population.
The Misconception of "Ancient Tribal Hatreds"
One thing that drives historians crazy is the idea that this was just "tribes being tribes." Honestly, that's a lazy Western narrative used to justify not intervening. Before the colonial era, the distinction between Hutu and Tutsi was often more about socio-economic class than race. You could "become" Tutsi if you gained enough cattle.
It was the Belgian colonists who solidified these identities in the 1930s by issuing mandatory ID cards. They used pseudo-scientific measurements—nose width, height—to "prove" Tutsis were superior. When the Belgians left, they flipped the script and handed power to the Hutu majority. The genocide didn't start because of ancient blood feuds; it started because of 20th-century political engineering.
By 1994, the propaganda had reached a fever pitch. Tutsis were referred to as Inyenzi—cockroaches. When the genocide began on April 6, the radio didn't say "go kill your enemies." It said "go kill the cockroaches." It’s a lot easier to kill a bug than a human being who used to share your sugar.
The Role of the International Community's Silence
It’s painful to look back at the telegrams sent in April 1994. While the genocide was beginning, the UN Security Council was arguing over the definition of the word "genocide." If they called it genocide, they were legally obligated to act under the 1948 Convention. So, they called it "acts of genocide" or "a breakdown of the ceasefire."
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Semantics.
While the diplomats talked, the killing rate was faster than the Holocaust. Roughly 800,000 people were murdered in 100 days. That’s 8,000 people a day. 333 people an hour. 5 people every single minute.
The United States, scarred by the "Black Hawk Down" incident in Somalia just months prior, had zero appetite for an African intervention. France had close ties to the Hutu government. The UK followed the US lead. The world watched on CNN and did nothing. This abandonment is a core part of the Rwandan national psyche today. They learned very quickly that nobody was coming to save them.
How the Genocide Finally Stopped
It didn't end because the UN sent more troops. It ended because the RPF, led by Paul Kagame (who is still Rwanda’s president today), fought a military campaign and took over the country. They moved from the north, eventually capturing Kigali in July 1994.
When the RPF took control, the genocidaires—the people who committed the killings—fled across the border into what was then Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of Congo). Millions of Hutu refugees went with them, fearing revenge killings. This created a massive humanitarian crisis and sparked a series of wars in the Congo that have killed millions more since. The genocide might have "ended" in July, but the ripples are still hitting the shores of Central Africa today.
What We Can Learn Right Now
If you're studying the Rwandan genocide, it’s easy to get lost in the horror. But there are practical, modern takeaways from how it started.
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1. Watch the Language
Genocides don't start with guns; they start with words. When you see a group of people being dehumanized—called "infestations," "vermin," or "animals"—that is the early warning system. In 1994, the radio was the primary tool. Today, it’s social media.
2. The Danger of Neutrality
Being "neutral" in the face of organized mass murder is just a fancy way of being a bystander. The UN peacekeepers were ordered to be neutral, and they ended up watching people get hacked to death in front of their gates.
3. Local Justice Works
After the genocide, Rwanda’s court system was destroyed. They had over 100,000 people in jail waiting for trial. They had to use "Gacaca" courts—community-led trials on grass patches in villages. It wasn't perfect, but it forced neighbors to look at each other and tell the truth about where the bodies were buried.
Moving Forward
To truly understand Rwanda today, you have to visit the Kigali Genocide Memorial. It’s built on a site where 250,000 people are buried. It’s not a place for "dark tourism"; it’s a place for education.
If you want to support the ongoing recovery of the region, look into organizations like Survivors Fund (SURF) or the Aegis Trust. They focus on the long-term trauma of survivors, many of whom are now reaching old age or raising a second generation that was born from the violence of 1994.
The start of the genocide wasn't just a date on a calendar. It was a failure of global humanity. We promised "Never Again" after 1945, and then we watched April 6, 1994, happen in real-time. The best way to honor those lost is to stay hyper-vigilant about the rhetoric being used in our own backyards today.
Check the history. Read the accounts from survivors like Yolande Mukagasana. Don't let the dates become just another entry in a textbook. The genocide began with a plane crash, but it was fueled by a world that decided to look the other way.