The Unending Storm: War, Resources, and the Great Lakes dilemma.

In recent history, for more than three decades, the African Great Lakes region has been trapped in a cycle of wars, displacement, and resource exploitation. At its heart lies eastern Congo—a geopolitical fault line where history, identity, and economics collide.

In the hills of eastern Congo, war is not an event but a condition of life. Millions of Congolese have been uprooted, forced into endless flight by waves of violence that have never truly ceased since the fall of Mobutu. Entire generations have grown up in displacement camps around Goma, Masisi, and Rutshuru. Women and children bear the brunt of sexual violence, hunger, and disease. Families flee with nothing but their dignity, and even that is often stripped away.

This is not simply a Congolese crisis. It is a regional quagmire, rooted in legacies of genocide, cross-border militia activity, and the pursuit of wealth in one of the most resource-rich regions on earth.

The Congo’s modern history reads like the eye of a storm — brief moments of calm surrounded by endless turbulence. After Lumumba’s assassination and the nationalist threat was crushed, the UN forced Katanga to reunite with Congo, appearing to deliver Lumumba’s dream of unity. But what followed was not peace, but a tempest of power struggles. In 1961, Congolese leaders proposed a confederation of states, only for UN Secretary-General Dag Hammarskjöld to strike a secret deal with President Kasa-Vubu to kill the plan. Katanga’s Moïse Tshombe, feeling betrayed, turned on the UN, igniting a war in Élisabethville. Hammarskjöld’s plane was shot down during peace negotiations — a death that still fueled suspicion.(Kara, Cobalt Red, ST.Martin's Press, New York, 2023, 104)

 

Katanga fought on for two years, bankrolled by mining giant UMHK(Union Minière du Haut-Katanga), until U.S. fighter jets helped the UN crush Tshombe’s forces. Congo was reunified, but the storm never cleared. In 1965, Joseph Mobutu seized power and ruled for 32 years, converting Congo into a machine for his personal wealth. He nationalized Katanga’s mines, renamed the country Zaire, and siphoned billions while Western powers looked the other way so long as he stood against communism. (Siddharth Kara, Cobalt Red, ST.Martin's Press, New York, 2023, 105)

 

But even dictators are not immune to the winds of history. Copper prices crashed, the Cold War ended, and Mobutu’s grip weakened. Then came 1994 genocide against Tutsi, which sent millions of refugees into eastern Zaire. This influx of refugees — including génocidaires — transformed Zaire’s crisis from a domestic collapse into a regional tinderbox. What had been Mobutu’s slow political decay suddenly became a full-blown security emergency that drew in Rwanda, Uganda, and eventually the entire Great Lakes region. But like Mobutu before him, Laurent-Désiré Kabila turned into a storm unto himself — enriching his circle through secret mining deals and waging war with resources meant to rebuild the nation. (Siddharth Kara, 2023, 106)

Joseph Kabila revived the mining sector under a new investment code and struck massive deals with China, trading minerals for infrastructure but also for personal kickbacks. Even after overstaying his constitutional term, he eventually orchestrated the 2018 election of Félix Tshisekedi — Congo’s first peaceful transfer of power since independence.

 Tshisekedi has tried to shift the winds: seeming like fighting corruption, pressing Chinese companies to improve transparency, and aligning closer with the United States. But the storm has not passed. The same man is currently using the minerals income to enrich himself and his family, and that as it was not enough he uses the income from minerals to fund wazalendo his own created genocidal machine, hiding under the name of patriots but killing innocent civilians because of who they are. (Special Report, 'DR Congo: The Tshisekedi Family is Looting Katanga Dry', ktpress, March 3, 2025, September 28, 2025)

Since taking office, President Félix Tshisekedi has faced accusations of mineral looting and corruption involving his family and close associates. A complaint was filed in Belgium in July 2025 by civil society groups and former mining executives, targeting nine of his family members for illicit mining activities in the mineral-rich Katanga region.

These allegations are not just about money. They strike at the heart of Congo’s fragile social contract, deepening mistrust in Kinshasa’s commitment to reform and leaving ordinary Congolese feeling abandoned by their own government.

Since Tshisekedi took office in 2019, Katanga’s wealth has become the cash cow of the presidential clan. Copper and cobalt riches flow to Kinshasa and to foreign partners, while the provinces themselves remain underdeveloped. Despite the 2018 mining code that was supposed to channel revenues into schools, roads, and community projects, little has been done.

The result: Katanga’s roads remain impassable, hospitals are scarce, and poverty deepens, even as international copper and cobalt prices hit record highs. Gécamines, the state mining company, is being stripped of its assets and pushed to the brink, threatening the livelihoods of its 9,000 employees.

In a dramatic legal twist, several members of Congo’s first family now stand accused of plundering the country’s most valuable mines. The complaint, filed in Belgium, targets Belgian nationals closely linked to President Félix Tshisekedi — including his sister-in-law, sons, brothers, cousins, and even the First Lady herself. (The Brussels Times, 8 July 2025. September 28, 2025)

The case, presented to federal prosecutor Ann Fransen by prominent lawyers Bernard and Brieuc Maingain, accuses the group of being “accomplices to acts of corruption and other criminal activities” tied to mining operations in Lualaba and Haut-Katanga, Congo’s mineral-rich southern provinces.

The lawyers act on behalf of a coalition of Katangan NGOs and four former directors of Gécamines, the state-owned mining giant now reportedly being stripped of its most valuable assets.

The complaint marks a rare and direct legal challenge to Congo’s presidential entourage — potentially exposing a vast system of alleged looting, kickbacks, and illegal exploitation of the nation’s $320 billion copper and cobalt reserves. For the people of Katanga, it is a first step toward justice for what they describe as years of exploitation at the hands of those in power.

The dilemma remains: Congo’s resources fuel global progress, yet its people remain trapped in cycles of war, exploitation, and betrayal. From Diego Cão’s first landing in 1482 to the cobalt rush of today, the heart of Africa has been a prize to be captured rather than a nation to be uplifted. Patrice Lumumba’s dream of a Congo that serves its own people flickered briefly — and was crushed. The question is whether this storm will ever end, or whether the Great Lakes region will remain forever hostage to its riches. (Diogo Cão – History of Africa – Before 1800)

But Congo’s crisis does not stop at its borders. Its instability bleeds outward, pulling neighbors into its wars and inviting intervention. Nowhere is this more visible than in the fraught relationship between Kinshasa and Kigali — a relationship haunted by the ghosts of 1994. The 1994 genocide against the Tutsi in Rwanda was never confined within Rwanda’s borders. The perpetrators fled into Congo, regrouped, and rebranded as the FDLR. Their presence has poisoned regional politics ever since. For Rwanda, the FDLR represents an existential threat, a genocidal force biding its time to “finish the job.” For Kinshasa, however, these militias have often been a convenient proxy—tolerated, even supported, as a counterweight to other rebels like M23. Thus, Congo’s territory has become both sanctuary and battlefield, where local grievances are fused with regional rivalries. (Rugira, Lonzen. “Africa’s Curse of Narrow Interests Prevents Resolution of DRC Conflict.”)

The Great Lakes war machine operates on denial and impunity: genocidaires rebranded as “refugees,” armed groups rewarded with government posts, and peace deals signed without enforcement. Each failure deepens mistrust and prolongs the storm.

 

Eastern Congo sits on a mountain of wealth: cobalt, coltan, gold, tin. These minerals power the global digital and green economy—smartphones, electric cars, solar panels. Yet for local communities, this wealth is a curse. Armed groups, Congolese elites, foreign companies, and neighboring armies have all fought to control the mines and smuggling routes.

 

War is profitable. Peace is not. Every ceasefire that threatens to close off illicit revenue streams is sabotaged. International companies, eager for cheap supply chains, turn a blind eye to the blood that stains their minerals. The cycle is brutally rational: keep Congo unstable, keep the resources flowing.

Billions have been spent on peace processes: Lusaka, Sun City, Nairobi, Luanda. The UN mission in Congo (ONUC/MONUC/MONUSCO) has been the largest peacekeeping operation in the world. Yet the results are meagre. The peace industry sustains itself—endless conferences, reports, and photo opportunities—but fails to deliver security. MONUSCO’s presence has not prevented massacres in Beni, Ituri, or Kivu. Instead, it has become a symbol of inertia, a heavily funded witness to suffering. This failure has created a dangerous vacuum, forcing regional states to fill the gap on their own terms — often through military action rather than diplomacy. Without a coherent international strategy, each country pursues its own survival, sometimes at the expense of collective peace. (United Nations Organization Mission in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, “Background,”)

 

The deeper problem is that peace is treated as an event to be negotiated, rather than a system to be enforced. Without accountability, agreements are signed today and broken tomorrow.

The UN Security Council speaks the language of principles—human rights, sovereignty, protection of civilians. But when these principles collide with the interests of powerful states, it is the principles that are sacrificed.

 Congo is both tragedy and theatre: Western governments condemn instability while their corporations profit from minerals extracted in lawless conditions. Sanctions target African actors while global firms escape scrutiny. Human rights become a tool of pressure, selectively applied, never universal.

This moral failure erodes trust. For Rwanda, constantly accused but rarely listened to, it confirms that the international system is more interested in narratives than realities.

President Paul Kagame has warned repeatedly that Rwanda will not tolerate an existential threat on its doorstep. His speeches at the AU and UN are no longer couched in diplomatic niceties but in the language of survival: Rwanda doesn’t need permission to protect herself.  (Manzi, Lionel. "DRC: If the Security Council Cannot Enforce UN Principles, Rwanda Will." Pan African Review, 26 Aug. 2025)

This uncompromising tone is rooted in history. In 1994, Rwanda learned the price of waiting for international rescue. For Kigali, neutrality in the face of the FDLR is complicity.

 

The doctrine of Responsibility to Protect (R2P), championed at the UN in the early 2000s, was supposed to ensure that never again would the world stand idle in the face of genocide. Yet in practice, it has been inconsistently applied, more often invoked for strategic interventions than for genuine humanitarian protection. (Global Centre for the Responsibility to Protect, n.d.)

Rwanda, scarred by the failure of 1994, interprets R2P as both duty and right: the duty to protect its citizens, and the right to pre-empt existential threats. This is the lens through which Kigali views Congo—not interference, but survival.

Europe once waged endless wars under the doctrine of realism: states pursue their interests, and when diplomacy fails, war is diplomacy by other means. But after centuries of devastation, Europe turned to integration. By weaving economies, institutions, and identities together, it moved towards idealism: sacrificing narrow national interests for collective security and prosperity. The EU’s richer states accept costs to support poorer members because they recognize a deeper truth: instability next door will eventually destabilize them. Either all are secure, or none are.

 

Africa has mimicked Europe’s institutions but not its philosophy. The African Union resembles the EU on paper, but lacks the spirit of collective sacrifice. National interests still dominate. In the DRC crisis, East African leaders urged Tshisekedi towards dialogue. When he refused, they retreated into their own calculations instead of applying collective pressure. This vacuum of moral courage was filled by the amoral: alliances with genocidal groups dressed up as “national interest.” South Africa’s troop deployment alongside the FDLR exemplifies this dangerous slide.

Even Angola, tasked by the AU as mediator, allowed its Lobito Corridor project to overshadow its responsibility to enforce peace. By privileging its own projects over collective stability, it undermined both its credibility and the AU’s authority.

The lesson is stark: without collective sacrifice, regional bodies will remain impotent. The curse of narrow interests is perpetual instability.

The Great Lakes conflict is not inevitable. It is the outcome of choices—by Congo’s leaders, by regional powers, by the international community, and by corporations profiting from chaos.

To break the cycle requires systemic disruption: Neutralize the FDLR and all armed groups without excuses. Hold the DRC government accountable for the equal protection of all its citizens. Stop scapegoating Rwanda while ignoring Congo’s governance failures. Create enforceable traceability for conflict minerals so that war is no longer profitable. Elevate collective interest above narrow realism—an African idealism grounded in shared destiny. Only then will the displaced families in Sake, Rutshuru, and Masisi see a future beyond endless flight. Only then will the Great Lakes region move from perpetual storm to lasting peace. Human dignity must be valued above gold, cobalt, and coltan. Only when the region decides that peace is more profitable than war will the storm finally break.