The Fall of Goma

Once again, the eastern Congolese city of Goma has fallen to the Rwanda-backed M23 rebel group. The mayhem is certainly real; the Democratic Republic of Congo’s (DRC) displacement crisis is second only to Sudan’s, and many of the roughly 1.5 million people now trapped in Goma have been on the run from conflict for years. Peacekeepers from the United Nations and the Southern African Development Community were killed in the latest advance. But drivers of the conflict are murkier than the scale of the emergency, particularly if one tries to glean insight from the rhetoric of the antagonists involved.  

The President of the DRC, Felix Tshisekedi, insists that the conflict is fundamentally about Rwanda’s violations of Congolese sovereignty. As far as the M23 goes, he is right. But the insecurity in eastern Congo is a bigger problem—scores of armed groups terrorize the region’s civilians, and while Tshisekedi has leveraged the crisis to whip up nationalist sentiment to his political advantage in the past, he shows little interest in the hard, incremental work of tackling the country’s problems through governance. The corruption that has eroded the efficacy of the state and its security services persists, while Tshisekedi seems intent on extending his tenure of dubious legitimacy.  

Paul Kagame, President of Rwanda, generally declines to formally acknowledge his government’s direct role in the conflict—which includes sending its own armed forces to fight as well as providing support to the M23, but regularly reminds the world of the horrors of the 1994 Rwandan genocide. He insists that Rwanda must act to protect ethnic Tutsis living in the DRC from persecution, and accuses Congolese security services of colluding with the FDLR, an organization comprised of perpetrators of that genocide and their adherents which now operates in eastern Congo among the region’s many armed groups. But as Jason Stearns wrote in the Financial Times, “It was the emergence of the M23 that led to a rise in hate speech against Tutsi and collaboration between the Congolese army and the FDLR.” If protecting ethnic Tutsis was the point, Rwanda’s approach has been obviously self-defeating for years. It’s also impossible to ignore the economic incentives for Rwanda’s actions, as the M23 seizes lucrative mines and ships the minerals extracted there across the border to Rwanda. What could be more cynical than a cash grab wrapped up in “never again?” 

It’s not unreasonable to ask if this time, the ultimate aim is something bigger. After all, Rwanda backed the movement that led to the fall of Mobutu and the beginning of the Kabila dynasty.  The leader of the Congo River Alliance, a coalition of groups opposed to the Congolese government, has said that “Our objective is neither Goma nor Bukavu but Kinshasa, the source of all the problems.” Ironically, this very man, Cornielle Nangaa, headed the electoral commission in 2018 that brought Tshisekedi to power in a backroom deal with Joseph Kabila, disregarding the actual outcome of the vote. If Nangaa remains closely connected to Kabila, it’s hard to square with his talk about fundamental change. After all, Kabila presided over nearly two decades of dysfunction and instability in the east.  

In any case, U.S. standing in the region has taken yet another hit, as Congolese furious with what they perceive as Western backing for Rwanda have attacked the U.S. Embassy in the capital, Kinshasa. U.S. adversaries, eager for access to Congolese minerals, will be quick to take advantage of the popular mood. 

The terrible pain borne by the people of eastern Congo is collateral damage in a never-ending set of cynical maneuvers by leaders pursuing power and riches. In a moment when international norms are disappearing by the day, institutions aimed at protecting peace and security are failing, and global leadership—the kind that pressured Rwanda to back down the last time Goma was taken—is missing in action, Congo provides a hellish preview of what “anything goes” looks like.