When Germaine Tuyisenge Müller scrolls through social media or hears inflammatory dialogue, she can hear disturbing echoes of her childhood. At just nine years old, she survived the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi in Rwanda, an atrocity powered not only by violent acts but also by violent words.
Dehumanising language on the radio, neighbourhood whispers, and schoolyard taunts and threats helped sow the hatred that led to the murder of more than 1 million people in just 100 days.
As the world marks the International Day for Countering Hate Speech on June 18, Germaine speaks out. She did so, not only to honour those lost but to issue a warning. Hate speech is never harmless. When ignored or normalized, it becomes the fuel for violence, sometimes on a national scale. And in an age of global digital communication, the dangers are only multiplying.
The seeds of division
Growing up in Kigali, Rwanda’s capital, Germaine lived in a close-knit community. Her family regularly welcomed extended relatives, friends, and neighbours. “To my young mind,” she recalls, “there was nothing to worry about. It was just normal community life.”
But even as a child, Germaine noticed subtle shifts. Classmates would tease and threaten her. At the time, she didn’t understand why. At school, students were sometimes asked to stand in lines based on ethnic identity. When she asked her mother why, the reply was simple: “Just go with the majority.”
As the crisis brewed, her family would listen at home to alternative radio stations at barely audible volumes, fearful of who might hear them tuning in. “We were surrounded by tension—but I was too young to read it for what it was,” she says.
Germaine says she was exposed to hate speech long before she grasped what it was. “In my kid’s mind, I didn’t know these words were dangerous. I didn’t know they came with violence.”
In the media, cartoons portrayed Tutsis in derogatory ways “I just saw cartoons,” she recalls. “Only later did I realize they were teaching us these people weren’t human. You look at this and you’re like, this is... this is not a human being,” she adds.
What Germaine describes is more than the presence of hate speech: it was a slow, quiet erosion of empathy. “Looking back, I can see that the hate was everywhere. But it didn’t scream. It whispered.”
“It was in how some neighbors stopped coming over. It was in the low volume of the radio at night. It was in who you sat with at school,” she says.
Years later, the meaning became heartbreakingly clear. “The words didn’t seem violent then. But they prepared people to see us as less than human. They prepared people to look away. Or worse—to pick up a weapon.”
The repetition that made killing normal
Hate speech in Rwanda was not a whisper—it was a campaign. From magazines to radio stations, the Tutsi population was constantly portrayed as a threat. “It was on repeat,” Germaine says. “People were being educated to hate each other.”
“That ingrained hate that got to the level where if you've been taught something for so long, that becomes the reality because of the repetition.”
When the genocide against the Tutsi in Rwanda began in April 1994, it wasn’t just soldiers or militias who killed. It was teachers, neighbours—even family members. Germaine remembers the shock of realizing that the men who once worked in her family’s garden and construction projects were among those who came looking for them to kill.
“These were the people who my mom used to hire to come do garden work, do construction. She would give them jobs. But then how did they turn to be the ones who come to look for us?”
Even young people were swept in. “Twelve-year-olds felt powerful over their teachers. That’s how much the propaganda had sunk in,” she says. “It gave really so much—it empowered some people while dehumanizing others.”
Hate speech today: Faster, louder, and global
Three decades later, Germaine sees disturbing parallels. “What I hear today—the dehumanization, the scapegoating, the labeling of others as threats—it’s the same pattern,” she says. “Only now, it spreads faster.”
The internet has amplified hate speech on a global scale. A hateful post in one country can be shared worldwide in seconds. “Now something that’s happening in Rwanda—someone posts it—anyone in the world is gonna see it instantly, at the same time.”
Even more troubling is the rise of misinformation. “People are not interested in being educated,” she warns. “They just absorb whatever confirms their fears.”
Digital identity—data profiles, search histories, and personal affiliations—can also be weaponized. Just like ethnic identity cards were used to target Tutsis in Rwanda, digital tools today make it easier to classify, target, and incite violence against groups.
And when powerful figures engage in or tolerate hate speech, the danger deepens.
Countering hate: Everyone has a role
For Germaine, silence is not an option. “I speak because I owe it to those we lost,” she says. “We lived it. These are not stories from distant history. This happened to us.”
But preventing future violence requires more than remembering—it requires action. “Education is our most powerful tool,” she emphasizes. “Not just in schools, but at home, in churches, workplaces, even WhatsApp groups.”
Governments must establish legal frameworks to address hate speech. Tech companies must monitor their platforms more effectively. But institutions alone are not enough.
“Families must talk. Teachers must teach. Friends must speak up when they see something wrong,” she says. “Try to speak to someone who has a different point of view... have a conversation with them and... understand them and educate them.”
Germaine also advocates for creating safe spaces for dialogue. “Sometimes hate comes from ignorance or personal pain. If we listen first, we can start to change minds.”
A survivor’s message: Don’t wait until it’s too late
On this International Day for Countering Hate Speech, Germaine’s message is clear: “Don’t wait for tragedy to act.”
“If hate speech cost us a million lives in 100 days, imagine what it could do now, with billions connected online.”
She adds: “We are not inventing things. These are facts.”
“If I could ask people to do just one thing,” she says, “it would be this: speak to someone who thinks differently than you. Listen. Understand. And if you can—educate.”
Germaine doesn’t believe everyone is hateful. But she worries that those opposing hate aren’t loud enough. “We are more than them. But if we stay silent, they become the loudest voice.”
