In Part I, the author argued that Africa’s giants are structurally dysfunctional. In Part II, he argues that it is a crime to try to help them out of this crisis.
In 2009, a remarkable development took place. The President of Rwanda, Paul Kagame and then DRC President, Joseph Kabila, met and agreed to work together to neutralise the FDLR. This marked a significant change in the circumstances that had led to two regional wars in the Great Lakes region in the late 1990s. These wars, caused primarily by the presence of the defeated Rwandan Armed Forces (FAR) and the Interahamwe militia responsible for the 1994 genocide against the Tutsi in Rwanda, had drawn no fewer than seven African armies into Congo. Although it was applauded worldwide, the Congo-Rwanda cooperation was never fully realised. It threatened Western influence in one of Africa’s resource-rich “giants” with highly coveted strategic minerals. Such intra-African cooperation could not be allowed to flourish.
Historical context
After committing genocide in Rwanda in 1994, the perpetrators fled to what was then Zaire and were offered protection by President Mobutu Sese Seko. They soon began to wreak havoc, targeting both Congolese and Rwandan Tutsis, after leaving over a million of the latter dead in Rwanda.
Although the war that removed Mobutu scattered the genocidaires, they were never completely disbanded, largely because of the breakdown in relations between Laurent Kabila (Joseph Kabila’s father) and the Rwandan leadership. Following the breakdown, Laurent Kabila began to reorganise and rearm the FAR to act as a buffer against Rwanda, creating an estimated 100,000-strong force, the remnants of which are now commonly known as the FDLR.
Over the years, the FDLR and its splinter groups have continued their campaign of violence, killing Congolese Tutsis and looting their property, including cattle, while threatening to return to Rwanda to “finish the job” of exterminating the Tutsi survivors of the genocide. Faced with this genocidal threat, tens of thousands of Congolese Tutsis have sought refuge in Rwanda and Uganda over the past 30 years, most settling in refugee camps in both countries. In response, their young people formed an armed group to protect their families from the FDLR, to pressure their government to cut ties with the genocidal forces and to facilitate the return of their relatives scattered in refugee camps in neighbouring countries.
Meanwhile, Kigali understood their grievances, as Rwanda itself was under threat of infiltration by the unrepentant genocidal forces for which the Congolese government had become something of a patron. The 2002 Pretoria Agreement between Rwanda and Congo provided for the dismantling of the genocidal forces, but it was never fully implemented. Rwanda withdrew its troops, but the FDLR remained.
In 2006, denouncing Kinshasa’s failure to dismantle the FDLR, the Congolese Tutsi formalised their rebellion by creating the National Congress for the Defence of the People (CNDP). They reiterated their threefold grievance against Kinshasa. When fighting broke out between the Congolese government forces and the rebels, the CNDP inflicted heavy losses on the Congolese national army. It seized and then administered large swathes of territory, just as the M23 has done recently. The CNDP rebellion lasted until 2009.
Agreements never fully implemented
The 2009 agreement between the DRC and Rwanda, if fully implemented, would have rendered the UN peacekeeping mission in Congo (MONUSCO) unnecessary. MONUSCO’s withdrawal, fiercely resisted to this day, would have drastically reduced Western influence in this mineral-rich African country.
Under the terms of the agreement, the CNDP was to be disbanded and be integrated into the Congolese army (FARDC). However, former CNDP fighters would remain in their ancestral regions to protect relatives returning from refugee camps from possible attacks by the FDLR. This was a non-negotiable condition for the CNDP, as the threat of the FDLR was the reason they had taken up arms in the first place.
By committing to neutralise the FDLR and facilitate the return of refugees, the parties to the agreement were addressing two of the root causes of insecurity in eastern Congo. Everything seemed to be going according to plan.
The Rwandan and Congolese armies launched joint operations called Umoja Wetu I and II, which quickly pacified the Kivu region. I was in Goma and Bukavu at the time, doing research on regional security, and personally witnessed the cooperation between the two countries’ armed forces. The atmosphere reflected a growing sense of mutual trust. It seemed that the DRC and the region had turned a corner and that a peace dividend was on the horizon.
External interference
But alas, the US was angered by the fact that the two nations had conducted joint military operations without informing them. These were operations between two neighbours on African soil, but American officials thousands of miles away were displeased.
Soon after, reports accusing the CNDP of abuses, including the recruitment of child soldiers, were recycled by Western NGOs and media. At the same time, the US increased pressure on Kabila to arrest CNDP leaders, effectively weaponising accountability for political gains.
The US viewed Kagame as someone who was helping to organise the DRC, but this potential for stability threatened its interests. Accustomed to operating in murky waters and profiting from Congo’s instability, the Americans sought to drive a wedge between Kagame and Kabila, disrupting their cooperation and derailing the agreement that had put an end to the CNDP rebellion.
The context was ripe for US schemes. CNDP fighters had been separated from their commanders and moved from their ancestral homes, exposing their families once again to the threat of the FDLR. This not only violated key provisions of the agreement, but also undermined the fragile peace that had been established. As Rwanda attempted to defuse tensions between the former CNDP rebels and Kinshasa, CNDP commanders who were under US and EU sanctions were subjected to ICC arrest warrants. And despite Kabila’s promise to Rwanda not to give in to Western pressure and to do everything possible to maintain the fragile peace, moves were made to arrest the commanders and a new rebellion was born. As a direct consequence, Umoja Wetu operations were halted, allowing the FDLR to re-emerge after years on the back foot.
US actions reignited tensions between Kinshasa and Kigali and led to the rearming and reorganisation of the FDLR, which was once again positioned as a buffer against Rwanda. In essence, the problem in the Congo that had been solved by two leaders had resurfaced in its original form, all because of the West’s fears that an organised and capable Congo – an African giant – might finally live up to its potential.
Same playbook with Tshisekedi
Soon after Félix Tshisekedi took power in the DRC, a strong partnership developed between him and Kagame. The spirit of cooperation that Kagame and Kabila had cultivated during Umoja Wetu resurfaced, with Rwanda providing intelligence for the FARDC to conduct military operations to neutralise the FDLR. This time, however, cooperation extended beyond the military to the commercial sphere. Among the agreements were deals allowing Rwandair to operate flights between Kigali and Kinshasa, and plans for cooperation in the mineral trade, including the construction of value-added factories in Rwanda to end the exploitation of raw materials and cut out Western middlemen. Military cooperation to pacify the Kivu region was also agreed, creating a favourable environment for deepening trade and facilitating the free movement of people and goods between the two countries.
But the same ‘crime’ that Kagame had committed with Kabila – working together to stabilise the Congo – was back. By mid-2021, efforts to drive a wedge between the Rwandan and Congolese leaders began in earnest.
Once again, human rights organisations in Europe and Washington, along with their counterparts in Kinshasa, fuelled the narrative that Tshisekedi was a puppet who had sold out his country. Reports from Congolese civil society and UN experts painted a picture of Tshisekedi as a captured leader, manipulated by a cunning Kagame using ubwenge (cleverness). Tshisekedi was accused of allowing Rwanda to conduct covert operations against the FDLR on Congolese soil.
On 5 February 2022, François Beya Kasonga, Tshisekedi’s security adviser and chair of the National Security Council, was arrested on suspicion of plotting a coup d’état. The coup attempt, which never took place, was blamed on Rwanda.
A few months later, in September 2022, Kabila ally, Gen Philemon Yav Irung, was arrested, on suspicion of spying for a foreign country. This too was blamed on Rwanda.
Each time, Tshisekedi was quick to accept ‘intelligence’ from Western powers and certain African leaders with a grudge against Kagame. But the accusations were never substantiated. Beya was allowed to leave the country, while Philemon Yav remains in prison.
With elections looming, Tshisekedi saw an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. Rehabilitate his image as a defender of Congo’s interests in the eyes of the ultra-nationalists and win the favour of the Western powers, who seemed opposed to normalisation with Rwanda. Tshisekedi unilaterally ended military and trade cooperation agreements with Rwanda. He began to parrot the talking points of civil society reports and the UN Panel of Experts – the very tools used to drive a wedge between him and Kagame. Allegations of mineral exploitation came to the fore.
But a closer look reveals what Tshisekedi missed. Why would Kagame, who had entered a mutually beneficial relationship with the DRC, risk a costly military campaign to steal Congolese minerals when there was already an agreement in place allowing Congolese traders to bring them to Rwanda for processing? For the first time, Kagame had a Congolese leader willing to embark on a mutually advantageous partnership. Why, then, would he jeopardize that by attempting to topple Tshisekedi?
The forces at play simply did not want this cooperation to succeed, just as they had undermined the partnership with Kabila a decade earlier. As expected, Tshisekedi followed Kabila’s lead: he reinforced the FDLR as a buffer against Rwanda. Predictably, the FDLR resumed its attacks on Congolese Tutsis, identifying them as enemies to be exterminated. In response, the Congolese Tutsi once again took up arms to protect their relatives. It was déjà vu.
Meanwhile, Western powers continue to undermine peace efforts. As with the CNDP leaders, they have placed M23 leaders under US and European sanctions, even as the Angolan mediation is desperately trying to end the conflict in North Kivu by inviting them to the negotiating table. From Tshisekedi’s short-sighted perspective, the West is helping him to defeat his enemies in the court of public opinion. In reality, the West is preventing any negotiated solution to the crisis in which Congo finds itself.
For the West, a “good” leader of any African “giant” is one who is incapable of lifting their country out of dysfunction in ways that substantiate their status as a true giant. This is the structural crisis that continues to plague these nations, preventing them from acting as catalysts for Africa’s transformation.
Moreover, the West will not allow cooperation that seeks to leverage critical leadership capabilities needed to overcome this structural crisis, as it views such actions as teaching these “good” leaders “bad manners.”
This is why cooperation between DRC and a Rwanda that is led by Kagame, or anyone with similar capabilities, is never happening.
