What Rwanda's Kigali Genocide Memorial Can Teach the World

In 1994, Rwanda was the site of one of the most devastating genocides in history. Over the course of just 100 days, nearly 1 million mostly ethnic Tutsi, were slaughtered by Hutu militias in a campaign of mass murder and sexual violence. It was a cataclysm of extraordinary proportions, and three decades later, the impact is still profoundly felt.

This week, I visited the Kigali Genocide Memorial while in Rwanda. The Memorial is a place of remembrance, learning, and action that commemorates the genocide and seeks to understand and prevent such tragedies in the future. Developed in collaboration between Rwandan authorities and the Aegis Trust for Genocide Prevention, a British NGO, the Memorial became a starting point for peace and values education that is now integrated into the learning curriculum of Rwanda’s national schools.

The Memorial is beautiful, sacred, and deeply moving. Built on hallowed ground, at the final resting place for 250,000 victims of the genocide, it helps to preserve the memory of those lost to hate. It documents the experiences of witnesses and provides critical support to survivors. It offers programs addressing drivers of conflict, promoting peace-building skills, and supporting issues like trauma healing and mental health literacy. It even looks further into the future, exploring how sustainable livelihoods and peace education could help mitigate conflict as climate change fuels migration for people around the world.

Most importantly, perhaps, it attempts to answer questions that are nearly impossible to contemplate. How do we forgive perpetrators of unspeakable violence? How do we seek understanding instead of revenge? How do we build a shared future when there’s so much pain, and ask victims to coexist with their tormentors? It deals with the reality of genocide and its aftermath—and with the help of extraordinary survivors and staff, the Memorial uses Rwanda’s experience and the bravery of its survivor community to find a path forward.

It’s an incredible model for creating peace and forgiveness—not by erasing or diminishing history, but by preserving it; by learning from it; and by using its lessons to shape our future. The Memorial encourages communities anywhere to use its resources. As the Memorial says on its website: “If peace can be built after the Genocide against the Tutsi, it can be built anywhere.”

That is an especially potent message today. We continue to see devastating conflicts between political, religious, and ethnic groups. In Ukraine, tens of thousands have died since Russia’s full-scale invasion. In Israel, innocent people were snatched, brutalized, and murdered by Hamas on Oct. 7, while thousands more Palestinian civilians were killed in the devastating 11 months since.

How do we reach not only an end to these conflicts, but a future in which shattered communities can rebuild and find peace?

This topic is personal to me. I am the child of Holocaust survivors—two of the millions of Jews who were targeted, attacked, and in 6 million cases, slaughtered by Nazis. I think a great deal about how unfathomable atrocities can occur; what can be done to stop hate and violence before they take root; and how we can grapple with the impacts in the wake of indescribable tragedy.

Amid the darkness of conflicts around the world, the Kigali Genocide Memorial offers hope. It presents real stories of individuals who have managed to transcend tragedy and build new lives. It documents how we descend into hate, and the steps we can take toward peace. It teaches us that violence is avoidable; that a better future is possible; and that humanity has the strength to make it so.

The Rwanda of today is very different from the one that was set ablaze three decades ago. From the ashes of that devastating conflagration has risen an extraordinary economic “miracle” and an incubator of ideas. The scars of the recent past are still very real, but Rwanda has managed to do something that often seems impossible: to reconcile with its past, and to find a measure of peace.

The example Rwanda sets serves as a reminder that we have the power to recognize our challenges, to change our trajectories, and to determine our course forward. By learning from humanity’s difficult past, we can prevent new tragedies—and build a more peaceful and healthy future for all humankind.

Albert Bourla is the chairman and CEO of Pfizer. The Pfizer Foundation, a charitable arm of Pfizer, works with Rwandan officials for the Accord for a Healthier World that aims to create access to medicines and vaccines for 1.2 billion people around the globe.

Contact us at letters@time.com.