When the definitive histories of post-genocide Rwanda and the Rwanda Patriotic Front, the political organisation that has guided its post-war reconstruction and transformation over the past 21 years are finally written, the United Kingdom will enjoy pride of place. There are very good reasons to expect this to be the case.

Alongside the United States of America and Uganda, the United Kingdom was an early sympathiser with the war the Rwanda Patriotic Front fought with the Habyarimana government in the early 1990s, which brought it to power but also culminated in the genocide.

This was at a time when some members of the international community, particularly those with strong ties to the Habyarimana regime, found it fitting to mislead world opinion.

They portrayed it as a case of pure aggression that was intended to promote Anglo-Saxon interests in what at the time was a la Francophonie sphere of influence, while obscuring its origins in the exiling, 30 years earlier, of thousands of Rwandans who now sought to force their way back home.

The UK’s support for the RPF would in time make it the subject of bizarre accusations. It happened when a Spanish investigative judge — acting on the advice and with the assistance of anti-RPF actors within academia, the humanitarian and human-rights fraternities and the exiled Rwanda diaspora, some of whom stand accused of dabbling in the promotion of anti-Tutsi genocidal ideology — indicted 40 Rwandan army officers and issued warrants for their arrest. The officers were allegedly guilty of war crimes and crimes against humanity.

In the indictment, the UK was mentioned as a supporter of the “criminal organisation,” the RPF in whose armed wing, the Rwanda Patriotic Army, the officers served and fought.

After the war and genocide, the RPF’s powerful opponents did not let up in their efforts to undermine the fledgling government, which, if it survived and thrived, would present a hitherto unfamiliar challenge in ideological and international relations terms.

It is said that without the strong support of the UK and the US, efforts by the new government to secure financial and other help from multilateral and bilateral actors, for example, would have been much less successful than they eventually were.

A story is told, for instance, where, courtesy of dedicated manoeuvres by some actors, the World Bank refused to release any money to the new government until outstanding loans of millions of US dollars, which had been contracted by the deposed genocidal government, had been paid in full.

This, at a time when the new government had barely any money to sustain itself, and when its capacity to perform some of its functions depended on contributions by individual members and supporters of the RPF. Again, it took the UK and a few other countries to pay off the loans and get the Bank to open its taps.

Given all this, it is easy to understand why many in Rwanda came to see the UK as a special and dependable friend, one they could trust to act in their interest, as indeed friends are expected to do.

There have been hitches here and there along the way, of course, not least over Rwanda-DRC relations such as in 2012, when the UK government “punished” Rwanda for its alleged active support for the M23 rebels by, along with other donors, suspending development assistance.

The sense of betrayal felt by Rwandans whose government continues to deny the accusations, ran deep.

And then came the arrest of the country’s intelligence chief, Lt-General Karenzi Karake, on June 20, on the same charges levelled against him and 39 others by the Spanish judge.

It stunned many. Even more than that, it provoked outrage and raised questions about what kind of friendship would allow for the arrest of a senior official of their government with the status of a war hero, who had gone to the UK on official business, carrying a diplomatic passport.

And then information emerged that seemed to point to bad faith on the part of the UK government, or to a conspiracy of some sort. First, the Spanish High Court had, several months before, dismissed the charges against General Karake and his comrades.

This left open the question of where the warrant had originated. And then reports emerged that Interpol had refused to entertain the charges because they were politically motivated.

Further, prior to the arrest, for years the Rwanda government had been in contact with its Spanish counterpart about conducting joint investigations into the deaths and disappearances during the genocide, of Spanish nationals allegedly killed by the army officers or on their orders.

Furthermore, the government of Rwanda had investigated the deaths and disappearances and arrived at conclusions, including securing the conviction and jailing of one culprit.

Then came the news that the case had collapsed and that Karake had been freed. Much rejoicing has fallowed. For the UK government, however, questions and suspicion, warranted or not, loom large.

Frederick Golooba-Mutebi is a Kampala- and Kigali-based researcher and writer on politics and public affairs. E-mail: [email protected]