Since April 1994, numerous journalists, aid and relief workers, diplomats, politicians and academics have involved themselves with Rwanda and embarked on a mental crusade to make sense of a situation seemingly drained of every form of logic and morality. Searching for instant understandings, the majority of crusaders, particularly from the anglophone world, have come to embrace a model of Rwandan society and history which simplifies complex relations and obscures relevant contexts. The model is rooted in the political doctrine of the Rwandese Patriotic Front, which, as Rwanda's post-genocide spiritual guardian, displays exceptional skill at converting international feelings of guilt and ineptitude into admissions that the Front deserves to have the monopoly on knowledge construction. Once in a while, opinion makers have asked questions about their received wisdom and its source, as when John Ryle exposed the dubious relationship between humanitarian aid and media coverage, but few commentators, if any, have examined in detail the investigative apparatus which produced their perspectives. It seemed better not to examine. Because of the urgency of the situation, which for many meant coping with the refugee crisis or talking diplomacy or reporting to the world, the outsiders could not take time off for a more in-depth study of Rwanda's present and past. They thus found it convenient and practical to accept the new regime's message that post-independence research on Rwanda amounted to ‘fanciful nonsense’ (Fergal Keane), a theme which some newcomer academics elaborated with apologistic zeal.