J. J. Carney has written a highly detailed and well-researched book about the political impact of the Rwandan Catholic Church in the 1950s and 1960s. This book is very much a complement to Ian Linden's Church and Revolution in Rwanda, but is not simply a rehashing of Linden's work. Rwanda Before the Genocide is a fascinating account of the Catholic Church's role in the hardening of Tutsi and Hutu ethnic identities. It is also a powerful reminder that if prominent actors, both European and Rwandan, had spoken, written, and acted differently, Rwanda would probably not have endured three major periods of violence in its history: the Hutu Revolution of 1959–1962, the troubles of 1973, and the 1994 genocide of Tutsi and Hutu moderates.

Far more important than Rwanda's former colonial masters, the Germans and then the Belgians, the most significant acculturative force in Rwanda during the 20th century was the Catholic Church, and in particular, the missionary order known as the White Fathers. This order emphasized the importance of missionary adaptation to local languages and customs, and the necessity of Christian civilization. This latter was interpreted broadly. It was not enough to win souls for Christ: missionaries influenced health and hygiene, transformed economic practices, provided education, and intervened in politics. The White Fathers believed that evangelization should proceed by converting the elite first; then, it was hoped, the masses would follow. In Rwanda, however, the first missionary successes were among Rwanda's disenfranchised, including both Hutu cultivators and poor Tutsi, who looked to the missionaries as a means of circumventing one-sided patron-client ties with cattle-rich Tutsi.

By the early 1950s it appeared that the White Father policy of top-down conversion had assured a permanent, privileged role for the Catholic Church in Rwanda. But this decade also witnessed the shift into high gear of sub-Saharan Africa's anti-colonial struggle. In a sense, the Catholic Church in Rwanda had already prepared for decolonization, as more of its priests were Rwandan than European. Many Hutu and Tutsi priests had been ordained, more Tutsi than Hutu perhaps, but a large majority of the lay members of the Church were Hutu. Rwandan priests were also assuming high positions in the Church. Most notable in this regard was the first Rwandan bishop, Aloys Bigirumwami, a Rwandan of mixed descent but classified as Tutsi, who was named Vicar Apostolic of Nyundo in 1952. There is probably no one in Carney's book who could be called a “hero,” but Bigirumwami comes closest.

Later in this decade, the Church began to tilt in favor of Rwandan Hutu, despite its heretofore top-down approach to evangelization. The Church faced the problem of how to deal with a new class of people in Rwanda, the “evolues.” Because colonial administrative posts were reserved mostly for Tutsi “evolues,” Hutu “evolues” looked to the Church for social advancement and positions that fit their educational attainments. Most Tutsi “evolues” favored Rwandan nationalism, quick independence from Belgium, and a diminished role for the Church. Hutu “evolues,” on the other hand, were less likely to be critical of the Church. They also favored a longer-term process of devolution and a broader democratic base to governance in Rwanda.

The Church realized that it had to adapt to changing political realities. Andre Perraudin, a Swiss priest named Vicar Apostolic of Kabgayi in 1956, realized that if the Church wished to preserve its privileged position, it was going to have to support the political aspirations of the majority of its members. Perraudin moved closer to an openly pro-Hutu position, and in his pronouncements, began to pose the problem of social justice in ethnic terms. Bigirumwami, on the other hand, claimed that most of Rwanda's Tutsi were not better off than their Hutu compatriots and that Rwanda's problems were largely social and economic rather than ethnic in nature. Although Carney does not baldly state as much, he implies that if Bigirumwami had been more successful in convincing his interlocutors in the Church and the colonial administration, things would have turned out better for Rwanda in the long run. But even if Perraudin and the Church cannot be blamed directly for the violence that broke out in 1959–1962, they bear responsibility for not doing more to attenuate the polarizing tendencies of ethnic discourse in Rwanda.

Carney takes issue with others who have written about the 1994 genocide, such as Mahmoud Mamdani and Timothy Longman, who are more critical of the Church's role. Carney acknowledges that the genocide cannot be blamed on the Church; yet he asserts its role in the essentialization of ethnic discourse during the late colonial era. The nuances of his position may very well invite criticism. Shortly before the genocide, Rwanda was the continent's most Christianized country, with 90% of its population professing adherence and 70% belonging to the Catholic Church. Pope John Paul II visited Rwanda shortly before the genocide. During the genocide he occasionally made pronouncements that the parties to the conflict should lay down their arms and negotiate peacefully discuss their differences. While thousands of Tutsi were being murdered in Catholic churches and chapels all over Rwanda, the Pope's words never went beyond a general condemnation of the violence and a call for negotiations. While some religious personnel in Rwanda, both European and Rwandan, acted heroically and saved lives, others directly colluded in or abetted the violence. All this has left a deep scar on the Rwandan Catholic Church, one that it has yet to address. Today in Rwanda, it is no longer the “state within a state” that it once was and, while it still claims many members, Rwandans appear to be moving in the direction of ecstatic religious cults and enthusiastic Protestantism. Whether these religious changes will make further mass violence less likely in Rwanda is anyone's guess.