As peace envoys shuttle between Kigali and Kinshasa, the fundamental absurdity persists—everyone speaks of peace, but no one holds the Congolese government accountable for its war-mongering, internal repression, and toxic ethnic nationalism.
Let us begin with a small parable. Imagine someone blames the neighbor for burning down their house, and while standing in the ashes, they use the accusation as a campaign slogan.
But here’s the catch—they were the arsonists. This is not a metaphor. This is Congolese politics under President Félix Tshisekedi.
On April 18, 2025, the French media house France 24 ran a story headlined, “Washington Urges Rwanda to Stop Supporting M23 and Withdraw Troops from DR Congo.”
This statement by U.S. Special Envoy to the Great Lakes Region, Massad Boulos, urging Rwanda to “cease all support to M23 and withdraw RDF troops” may appear like diplomatic progress.
In truth, they mark yet another instance of the international community treating Tshisekedi as a credible peace partner when he is anything but.
This was just one week after Boulos, while standing on Rwandan soil, brushed aside questions on the same topic, saying, “We are not involved in those details.” Now, however, the United States was not only involved, it was suddenly a moral compass. For good reasons though.
One must wonder: Is the U.S. foreign policy arm guided by rotating amnesia? Is geopolitics in the Great Lakes region reduced to ping-pong diplomacy?
Was there any attempt to understand root causes or power dynamics in the region? There was no mention of the genocidaires still haunting eastern Congo under the FDLR banner.
Yet, this call overlooks the complex tapestry of regional dynamics, historical grievances, and, most critically, the duplicity of a Congolese leadership that has mastered the art of political ventriloquism.
From ‘Ethnic’ Survival to Political Expression
And no mention of the fact that the very M23 Boulos wanted disarmed had been protecting Tutsi Congolese civilians from decades of targeted violence.
The starting point is to master the fabric of Eastern Congo’s turmoil. Let us backtrack.
The instability in eastern DRC and threats to Congolese Rwandophones, particularly Tutsis, date back to the 1960s. This was long before the RDF or President Kagame.
American Diplomatic telegrams from 1963 to 1965 already detailed systematic violence against Congolese Tutsis.
So no, M23 did not invent this crisis. They are merely a consequence of a state that has normalized the exclusion and extermination of its own citizens.
Then came 1994. The genocidaires who orchestrated the Genocide Against the Tutsi in Rwanda fled into eastern Congo.
Successive Congolese regimes, including that of Joseph Kabila and Félix Tshisekedi, made no serious effort to neutralize them.
On the contrary, they armed them, politicized them, integrated them into the Congolese army, and sometimes unleashed them on Congolese Tutsi civilians as part of ‘local defense’ militias.
But here’s what makes it grotesque: Western actors are more outraged by Rwanda’s “alleged” support for M23 than by Kinshasa’s documented, historical and continued support for the FDLR and its splinter groups, whose ideology is openly genocidal.
What is this if not geopolitical gaslighting?
M23 began as a resistance movement seeking to protect Tutsi communities from extermination and expulsion.
Over time, however, its ranks have swelled with Congolese from various backgrounds who are disillusioned with Kinshasa’s abysmal governance, tribal favoritism, and the brutal exploitation of non-Luba ethnic groups in the Kivu regions.
Today, AFC/M23 is no longer just a Tutsi insurgency. It is a banner under which political dissent, resistance to state abuse, and calls for genuine federalism are gathering.
Even individuals from President Tshisekedi’s own Baluba ethnic group have joined the movement. It has, therefore, become a national challenge—not a Rwandan conspiracy.
And yet, instead of engaging in honest dialogue, Kinshasa rages against the mirror.
A Tone-Deaf Courier of Warfare
On May 2, 2025, Congolese Premier Judith Suminwa arrived at Ndjili Airport in Kinshasa to receive Congolese soldiers who had been under M23 custody since January.
These were soldiers who had been captured and treated with dignity. Rather than acknowledge M23’s humane gesture, Suminwa chose war rhetoric.
She said nothing of reconciliation. Instead, she delivered a chilling message from her boss, President Tshisekedi: “The struggle continues against the enemy and the occupier. The battle for the total liberation of the territory is ongoing.”
Such tone-deafness would be laughable if it weren’t so dangerous.
In any other context, such a statement from a prime minister would be interpreted as a formal rejection of all peace efforts. Yet, the international community says nothing.
Because, apparently, Suminwa is polite, educated, and French-speaking. Never mind the fact that she speaks the language of conflict fluently.
The Prime minister was complemented by the army’s mouthpiece of aggression.
On May 4, 2025, Congolese Colonel Mak Hazukay, army spokesman in the far north, escalated the belligerence. “We reserve the right to retaliate on all fronts if the threat from the rebels and their Rwandan allies persists.” I forgot to say he referred to AFC/M23 as “terrorists” which his seniors have been avoiding.
Hazukay, it must be noted, represents the same army that has incorporated genocidaires into its ranks, the same army that has suffered multiple humiliations against M23, and the same army that routinely collaborates with FDLR in field operations.
To hear him speak of ‘retaliation’ is like watching a pyromaniac protest the heat.
As political discourse scholar Jennifer Mercieca notes, “Bad faith actors use the tactics of the demagogue: distortion, deflection, and division.” Hazukay checks every box.
This is before entering a masterclass in political bad faith—which brings us to the man of the hour—Félix Tshisekedi.
One could write volumes about his political dishonesty, his double-speak, and his willingness to sacrifice regional peace for short-term populism. But let us focus on just a few points.
Tshisekedi came to power not through popular revolution or democratic transition, but through a secret pact with his predecessor Joseph Kabila.
He owes his presidency to a backroom deal—not the ballot box. And he has governed accordingly: with no legitimacy, no roadmap, and no accountability.
To mask this fragility, he resorts to Rwanda-bashing. According to Professor Ruth Wodak, a renowned discourse analyst, “Populist leaders often deploy the politics of scapegoating to unify a fragmented domestic base.”
A master of the theory, Tshisekedi—has scapegoated Rwanda so often that it has become the only plank in his national security strategy.
But here’s the motivation: he has no interest in peace. Because war allows him to rule without results while accumulating billions of dollars.
He can suspend elections in eastern Congo. He can blame foreign interference for every national failure. He can parade around as a wartime president. It’s not a bug. It’s a feature.
Diplomatic Interventions with Blind Spots
To be clear, recent U.S. and Qatari diplomatic efforts—particularly the Doha framework—deserve credit. For the first time, regional and global powers are sitting at the same table to discuss lasting solutions.
But let us be pitilessly honest: Washington and Doha are cities far too close to Kinshasa politically and far too far from Goma and Bukavu in reality.
Any framework that treats M23 as the problem while ignoring the genocidaires of the FDLR, the kleptocrats in Kinshasa, and the system of ethnic exclusion against Rwandophones is disaster-prone. You cannot build peace on fantasy.
There exists a limitless appetite for minerals—thus creating a moral black hole. Let us not ignore the elephant in the room: the resource curse.
The world’s powers don’t really care about the Congolese people. They care about cobalt. They want gold, coltan, and tantalum.
They want cheap access to critical minerals for their smartphones, electric vehicles, and green economies. Stability and human security, for them, is a footnote—unless it affects mining.
This explains why so many Western capitals issue threats and sanctions against Rwanda while ignoring the complicity of the Congolese regime in harboring genocidaires. Who eventually turned marauders and predators of their own people.
Seemingly, the stability of human lives is negotiable. But lithium is sacred.
Let’s get back to the concern of negotiating with a bad faith actor: a fall guy errand.
In his book Talking to the Enemy, political communication scholar Michael L. Butterworth warns, “Negotiating with bad faith actors who operate outside the bounds of shared facts is not diplomacy—it is appeasement in slow motion.”
Tshisekedi is not just a bad negotiator. He is a dishonest actor. He uses negotiations to buy time, to rearm, to perform diplomacy without substance.
The Luanda and Nairobi processes have been undermined not by Rwanda or M23 but by Kinshasa’s refusal to negotiate, its military provocations, and its refusal to disarm the FDLR.
Tshisekedi talks about ‘sovereignty’ while inviting mercenaries, foreign troops, and genocidaires to his soil.
To expect peace under his leadership is to expect rain from a stone. It is a political theater of the bizarre.
Let us not beat around the bush. Tshisekedi, Suminwa, and Hazukay are not stewards of peace. They are custodians of chaos.
They speak of liberation while collaborating with terrorists. They speak of sovereignty while outsourcing governance to foreign forces.
They condemn ‘occupiers’ while being squatted on by their own lies.
Their diplomatic drama has no intermission, no peak, and no certainty.
Negotiating with President Tshisekedi is akin to playing chess with an opponent who changes the rules with each move.
His administration’s rhetoric oscillates between calls for sovereignty and overt support for militias like the FDLR, a group with roots in the perpetrators of the 1994 Genocide Against the Tutsi inside Rwanda.
Political discourse scholar Dr. Sarah Nouwen notes, “Engaging in negotiations requires a baseline of mutual respect and a shared commitment to truth. Without these, talks become performative rather than transformative.”
In the DRC’s case, the performative aspect is glaring, with peace talks serving more as public relations exercises than sincere efforts to resolve conflict.
Hypocrisy and the Death of Reason
The most galling part of all this is the ease with which powerful Western governments allow themselves to be visibly manipulated.
Washington demands that M23 disarm and withdraw. Why? But, where? And under what guarantees?
Who will protect Congolese Tutsis from FDLR extermination? Who will secure the border zones?
Who will prevent the re-militarization of genocidal groups?
No answers. Just slogans.
Just hollow press statements from officials like who think that thirty years of blood, betrayal, and broken promises can be fixed with a press conference.
In How Democracies Die, Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt argue that “when institutions reward bad faith, the entire system deteriorates.”
If they’re right, then the Great Lakes region is not merely deteriorating—it’s being sabotaged by those who should know better.
The international community’s engagement with the DRC often oscillates between interventionist zeal and negligent apathy.
While calls for Rwanda to withdraw support for M23 may be valid for convenience’s sake, they must be accompanied by a critical examination of the Congolese government’s role in perpetuating instability.
In the arena of Congolese politics, President Tshisekedi plays multiple roles, each tailored to his audience—be it international diplomats, domestic constituents, or regional allies.
Yet, beneath the costumes and scripted lines lies a consistent theme: the prioritization of power and corruption over peace.
Engaging with such a leader requires more than diplomatic overtures; it demands a critical appraisal of intentions, actions, and the broader context.
As political discourse scholar Dr. Chantal Mouffe asserts, “Democratic politics is not about reaching consensus but about confronting and negotiating differences.”
In the DRC’s case, this means recognizing the performative aspects of its leadership and seeking genuine avenues for accountability and reform.
Until then, peace talks will remain a pantomime, negotiations a farce, and the Congolese people the unwilling audience to a never-ending tragicomedy.
If this were a play, it would be regarded as a dark clowning. Tshisekedi, the unwitting star, delivers his lines with theatrical seriousness, Suminwa performs as a chorus of war cries, and Hazukay brings in the comic relief—if one finds genocide denial funny.
But this isn’t theater. It’s real.
Real people are dying. Real communities are being uprooted. Real genocidaires are still roaming free.
So let us call it what it is: a diplomatic farce.
The world must stop indulging Tshisekedi’s regime as a legitimate peace partner. It is not. It is the epicenter of the problem.
And until that truth is accepted, no resolution, no initiative, no envoy—be they from Doha or D.C.—will ever deliver peace.
You cannot negotiate with bad faith. You can only expose it.
And laugh bitterly at the tragedy of it all.
