His actions brought fame and a United States presidential medal of freedom. But he was dismayed to see his nation become snared in fresh horrors under the one-time rebel turned president Paul Kagame; there was the invasion and looting of next-door Democratic Republic of Congo that left millions dead, as well as the routine killings, detentions and disappearances of Rwandans who questioned their leader’s rule.

Why, he asked me ten years ago, was Britain propping up this despot with big dollops of aid when his democracy was such an obvious sham? “We know what happened in the past. But that does not mean we close our eyes to what is happening now,” he said. “I did not keep silent in 1994 and I cannot keep silent now. We need justice, not aid.”

More from this author

Africa's catastrophic Covid response

By Ian Birrell

Today, Rusesabagina stands in a Kigali court clad in prison pink, the latest victim of Kagame’s paranoid misrule. He was seemingly set up by an agent posing as a Burundian priest, lured six months ago from his Texan home to Dubai and then flown on a privately-hired jet to the Rwandan capital. Three days later he was paraded in handcuffs, facing charges on nine offences including murder, armed robbery and membership of a terror group. The president crowed about a “flawless” operation.

Rusesabagina had told me several times about the smears, the death threats and the assassination attempts he endured, which eventually forced him to move from Belgium to a gated community in the US. He is 66 years old with some health issues, so he knows there may be little hope of seeing freedom again.

Kagame is sending out a clear message to his critics with this kidnapping and show trial: no-one is safe from his reach, whoever they are and wherever they live. Only on Sunday, another leading opposition member was killed in Cape Town in a shooting that bears all the hallmarks of a targeted assassination, according to one man who survived such a hit.

There should be little doubt now about the true nature of Kagame’s regime. Slowly but surely, the sheen has come off the self-styled saviour of his nation, exposing the reality of his Tutsi dictatorship along with more complex and often-murkier insights into the genocide and its aftermath. More and more former loyalists have spoken out in dismay at their nation’s descent into darkness. Even with such a skilled Rwandan diplomatic and public relations machine, there are only so many times another Kagame critic can be accused of being a sympathiser of génocidaires. 

Yet there is disturbing irony underlying this latest show trial as Rusesabagina’s presence in that Kigali court reminds us again of the validity of his words when we spoke a decade ago: why is Britain backing this barbarous figure? Even now, even today.

Britain pumps huge sums into this tiny central African nation — £111m over the past two years alone — while its president spends a reported £30m sponsoring Arsenal FC, his favourite football club. Our officials churn out pathetic reports talking about “building effective government institutions” and “development of an open and inclusive society” while Kagame kills his critics, overturns term limits, jails political foes, squashes free expression and shuts down the slightest space for civil society.

Only last week he told CNN that “democracy is not defined by the West”, and spoke about the “imperfections” in those countries which “elect their leaders” only for voters to “turn around and start complaining about the same leaders they elected”. Perish the thought that there might be any complaints from people under his style of “democracy”.

More from this author

Bobi Wine and the battle for Uganda

By Ian Birrell

It gets worse, however. Rwanda was a German, then a Belgian, colony. But Kagame preferred the adulation from British and US leaders over rising criticism in the Francophone world of his rule and the RPF’s role in the 1994 bloodshed. So he imposed English as an official language, encouraged cricket and was permitted to join the Commonwealth. Now he is preparing to host royals, presidents and prime ministers from around the world, having been handed the bi-annual Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting, due to be held in Kigali in June.

Yet why has this monstrous dictator been handed such a prestigious event when, for example, it has never gone to Ghana, despite its far closer ties to Britain, its genuine democracy and its symbolic significance as the first African nation to gain independence?

The answer lies in the legacy of guilt over the world’s failure to prevent the sickening genocide, fused with the desperate desire of Western leaders to find an aid success story. So they hail Kagame and hold Rwanda up as the lonely poster child for their tarnished policy of throwing cash at problems of conflict and poverty. They praise its economic growth, ignoring that it was built on the back of rampant pillaging in the Congo. They point to its enterprise and openness to business, yet front companies for a one-party state that dominate vast chunks of the economy. Yes, visitors admire Kigali’s order and clean streets, though those with longer memories say the smooth roads and sober officials existed before the genocide.

Even if Rwanda was a runaway success, there would be no excuse for Kagame’s persistent meddling in neighbouring states and savage repression. Yet politicians across the political spectrum have fallen at the strongman’s feet. Tony Blair called Kagame a “visionary”, congratulated him for a sham election victory, borrowed his private jet, defended his intervention in DRC — and used his bond with the president to help build an advisory empire.

Bill Clinton called Kagame one of the “greatest leaders of our time”. David Cameron claimed Rwanda was “a success story” and “a role model for development”. His former development minister Andrew Mitchell remains a constant cheerleader — and, coincidentally, collects £39,600 for nine days work a year advising a bank in Kigali run by the former finance minister. Meanwhile, big development charities appease this brutal regime with their silence to keep their hefty revenues flowing.

Suggested reading

The rise of hip hop politicians

By Daniel Knowles

The flow of funds from British taxpayers did not even stop when Scotland Yard warned two human rights activists in this country that a Rwandan hit squad had been sent to kill them, or when MI6 gave the government tape recordings of senior regime officials plotting to kill opposition leaders. The author Anjan Sundaram has also written that anti-terror experts provided him with armed protection in the UK when he promoted his superb exposé of Kagame’s dictatorship, based on several years trying to teach journalism in Rwanda on an aid-funded project. Rwandans living here have told me of regular events organised by intelligence operatives based in the London embassy, at which they must pledge loyalty to the RPF on pain of death for them or their families

In Do Not Disturb, a forthcoming book by journalist Michela Wrong investigating the brazen murder of former intelligence chief and Kagame’s political rival Patrick Karegeya in Johannesburg, there is a Kagame quote that rings all too true to explain his unperturbed approach to eliminating foes: “Those wazungus [white people] make noise but over time they forget it.” His regime has become so arrogant that it barely hides its actions now. “When you choose to be a dog, you die like a dog — and the cleaners will wipe away the trash so that it does not stink,” said Kagame’s defence minister after that killing. His president, in that CNN interview, absurdly claims Rusesabagina “more or less brought himself” into Kigali.

Kagame’s defenders argue that he brought stability to a troubled country. Gerard Prunier, the French historian, rightly responds that such attitudes display lingering racism, since they suggest a tough ruler is needed to control the inherent violence of Africans. Meanwhile, some prominent defectors claim the president sneers in private at his Western backers. “He calls those British politicians who sing his praises all the time his stooges,” said David Himbara, who spent six years working with Kagame as his policy chief and principal private secretary. He added that “behind Blair’s back, Kagame laughs at how he deploys a former prime minister of Great Britain as his praise-singer on the cheap.”

Yet could this current show trial, following the trapping of a simple man who stood firm in the face of unimaginable hell, finally spark a change in attitudes towards this regime and its mendacious president? The European Union has condemned the rendition, while 37 members of the US Congress have called for Rusesabagina’s release. Even Britain has tentatively showed concern over “continued restrictions to civil and political rights and media freedom”.

But as Kagame says, this is just noise. We need to cut off all his flows of aid, then ensure Prince Charles does not have to shake his bloodstained hand at a Commonwealth summit in Kigali. This ruthless president will only see that the West does not fall for his phoney talk of democracy and facade of “development” when he becomes a toxic pariah. We should be in awe of human rights heroes like Rusesabagina, not murderous dictators who crush dissent.

Unlike most Congolese musicians, who sing for politicians who pay their bills, he wanted to put out his own message, about independence. In his studio, in a suburb of the sprawling city, he had a giant mural of Patrice Lumumba, Congo’s first prime minister after it became independent in 1960. Alex grew up under the flamboyant despot Mobutu Sese Seko and got into rap music by listening to cassette tapes that he persuaded richer kids to bring back from America. And he became one of the nation’s megastars. Whenever I visited Kinshasa, during my time as an Africa correspondent, I would invariably look in on him. As well as being a rapper, he was a shrewd analyst of Congolese politics.

Today, Lexxus Legal is not just a musician, but also a politician, of sorts. Last time I spoke to him, he had just returned from a press conference with Martin Fayulu, who won the Congolese presidential election in 2019 then had it stolen from him. Mr Fayulu has continued to organise demonstrations to protest the election result. And Lexxus has been there with him, calling on young people to get onto the streets. He says his primary interest is still music — he has not stood for election at any point. But he explains why he feels compelled to get involved in politics. “We artists are impacted by the economic situation, which makes it impossible to feed a family. We are impacted by the crisis in health. We are impacted by the insecurity, in the east of the country,” he told me. “So to speak for artists, it is also to speak for a large part of the population.”

Suggested reading

Bobi Wine and the battle for Uganda

By Ian Birrell

It’s not an unusual idea. In Uganda’s recent presidential election the main rival to ageing despot Yoweri Museveni was Bobi Wine, a rapper from the streets of Kampala. Mr Wine is a journalists’ dream. He likes to wear red berets, and styles himself as a rapper revolutionary, taking on the M7 machine (as Museveni is known in the Uganda press). He drives a Cadillac, with “Ghetto” on the number plate. But he is also “softly spoken, articulate and deadly earnest” behind the bling. And two weeks ago he may well have won the most votes in East Africa’s third biggest economy.

Across Africa, rappers are turning to politics. In Senegal, around a decade ago, a troupe of rappers known as “Y’en a Marre” (“Fed Up”) took on the president, Abdoulaye Wade, and helped contribute to his defeat in an election in which he sought an unconstitutional third term. Then, in 2012, Youssou N’Dour, a pioneer of Senegalese dance music, tried to stand for president. His candidacy was disqualified, but he later became the minister of tourism. In nearby Burkina Faso, in 2016, another rapper known as “Smockey” was at the forefront of protests that overturned the 2015 coup. Three years later, in Sudan, yet another rapper named Ayman Maw returned from America to his homeland to perform for the protesters massing against the rule of Omar al-Bashir.

Covering African politics is often a fairly depressing affair. Inspirational politicians are rare. The continent still looks back to those of the past — Lumumba or Thomas Sankara, both of whom met sticky ends at the hands of Belgium and France — because the current crop is so poor. Most Africans have grown up in countries run by middle-aged or elderly men who wear suits and fly around in private jets. Since the 1990s at least, the model for African leadership has been Rwanda’s Paul Kagame, a despot who is a compelling speaker at World Economic Forum conferences. Mr Kagame is brutal but effective at least. Many African countries put up with leaders like Mr Museveni, or worse Paul Biya, the 87-year-old in charge of Cameroon, who spends much of the year in the Intercontinental Hotel in Geneva. The new president of Congo, Felix Tshisekedi, is another suit who rose to the top helped by his reputation as a calm and safe option in the eyes of foreign diplomats (in contrast to the hyperactive Mr Fayulu).

People like Bobi Wine — or indeed Lexxus — have been welcomed enthusiastically, partly because they offer something new. They aren’t an absolute break with tradition, though. There has always been a link between music and politics in Africa. In Congo, “Independence Cha Cha” was a hit in 1960, when Belgium withdrew. Later the brilliant rumba band TPOK Jazz produced songs such as “Candidat Na Biso Mobutu” (our candidate, Mobutu). In Kenyan politics, no self-respecting figure fights an election without a band singing about how great he (or she) is. Yet the surge of musicians working in opposition to incumbents is different.

Suggested reading

How Kenya became a tyranny of the minority

By Christopher Rhodes

What it represents is the growing importance of a young, urban electorate. In pretty much every country south of the Sahara except for South Africa, close to half the population is made up of children under the age of 18. And almost all these nations, with a few exceptions, have been urbanising fast. Under colonialism, Kinshasa and Lagos were backwater outposts of empires with metropolises in Europe. Now they are megacities in their own right. These young Africans are more globalised in outlook than ever, not least thanks to the mobile phone — which is used not only for sending money and WhatsApp messages but also for listening to music. They are also frustrated. In most of the continent, formal jobs remain scarce.

Before the rise of the internet, African leaders had control of the state media. On Congolese state TV, Mobutu’s face used to rise like the sun before the news bulletins. Nowadays, the internet means that musicians have far more control in broadcasting their message. Bobi Wine might have succeeded in turning his fan base to politics and organising them without the internet, but it would have been harder. That is why Mr Museveni forced Uganda’s telecoms companies to cut access to social media in the run-up to the election two weeks ago. If he had not, the evidence that he stole the election, such as videos of ballot boxes being stuffed, would have spread like wildfire. So too would have Mr Wine’s calls to protest.

Of course, not every politician adopting the stylings of ghetto rap is quite so eloquent as Mr Wine or Lexxus Legal. Kenya has Mike Sonko, until recently the governor or Nairobi, who owns a fleet of gold-plated Mercedes Benz and likes to dress in tracksuits with huge amounts of jewellery. He claims to be fighting the Kenyan “deep state”, but as a governor, he was probably no better than the old leaders with their Learjets. Last year, a brilliant Kenyan documentary called Softie told the story of Boniface Mwangi, an anti-corruption campaigner who stood for election in Nairobi in 2017. In the end, he lost — to Charles Njagua Kanyi, a dance musician better known as “Jaguar”. The Right Honourable Jaguar, as he now styles himself, has one major achievement as a politician: getting arrested for inciting violence against migrants.

More from this author

Where criminals win elections

By Daniel Knowles

Yet despite that, the rise of the rapper politician gives reason for hope. In places like Kenya, for the most part politicians rise to power because of corruption, not despite it. People vote for leaders they usually know full well are crooks, because they hope that at least if they get a president or an MP from their ethnic group, they’ll give jobs or stolen money to some of their kinfolk. Musicians may have money, but as Lexxus points out, they generally do not earn it by looting the state. They may come across as populists, but populism is not necessarily worse than the current political systems, which reward loyalty to corrupt leaders.

Indeed, the best reason to think rappers might offer an improvement in the quality of African leadership is that their appeal often goes beyond their ethnic or religious group. Rap music in Africa, as in the rest of the world, tends to be about hustling, escaping street life and making money. That resonates in cities where most of the population live in slums, working informal jobs for little pay. It unifies people who may speak different languages or worship different religions. Bobi Wine’s hits include songs like “Ghetto”, in which he sings that “we come to express exactly what’s on the poor man’s mind.” Lexxus Legal’s include “Chez Nous”, in which he sings about being trapped between poorly-paid work in Congo and the risk of trying to make it to Europe, only to die along the way and be washed up on a beach.

Lexxus says that it is not enough to campaign against the government — you must also have a platform for government yourself. Despite his own enormous personality, he’d like elections to be about policy, not about personality. Bobi Wine offers some of that. His manifesto denounced Uganda’s immense income inequality. He promised reforms that would go against the grain of a patrimonial system of government, such as reducing the size of Uganda’s parliament.

Bobi Wine promises revolution, but Mr Museveni came to power at the front of a literal revolution. He will not easily give it up. Uganda is yet to have a peaceful transfer of power in its post-independence history. Congo has only had one, in 2019 — but it was not to the politician who won the most support on the street. For the moment, power in much of Africa still seems to be about money, and the support of men with guns. But the rise of the rappers hints that things are changing.