The Democratic Republic of Congo’s President, Laurent Kabila, is pondering a future as obscure as his past not because of his evident lack of administrative talent, his taste for the good life or the minimal support of his fellow citizens.
Instead, consider a broadcast on Congolese state radio last week: “People must bring a machete, a spear, an arrow, a hoe, spades, rakes, nails, truncheons, electric irons, barbed wire, stones and the like, in order, dear listeners, to kill the Rwandan Tutsis.”
The hate broadcasts helped whip up the mob and drive Congo’s terrified Tutsis into hiding. But their greatest impact was in the Rwandan capital, Kigali. There they had heard it all before. What was emanating from Congo sounded disturbingly like the persistent, shrill radio voices four years ago urging genocide.
In 1994, the notorious Radio Mille Collines told Hutus to view every Tutsi – no matter how young, no matter how innocent – as the enemy and to kill them. The broadcasts out of Congo in recent days sounded little different.
“Wherever you see a Rwandan Tutsi, regard him as your enemy. Be ferocious. You will detect the enemies and massacre them without mercy,” Congolese radio urged.
If anything were required to reinforce Rwanda’s determination that Kabila had to go, the broadcasts were it. To the rest of the world they might be dismissed as the rantings of a few hot heads. To Kigali they were further affirmation of why almost any measure can be justified as a defence against genocide.
The broadcasts were precipitated by the Congolese government’s accusation that Rwanda is replicating its 1996 invasion which overthrew Mobutu Sese Seko and installed Kabila. This time Kabila is heading for the chop.
Kabila is being brought down because Kigali lost confidence that he could stabilise the east of his country bordering Rwanda. More than anything, Rwanda is governed by security fears. Its policies are driven by a belief that the barbarians are at the gate and the battle is one for survival.
Rwanda’s fears are real and legitimate. The international community abandoned the Tutsi minority during the genocide, and then fed the killers in the refugee camps. After the camps were cleared, Hutu extremists regrouped inside northern Rwanda where they continue to kill and destabilise. Rwanda’s leaders learnt that they could rely on no one but themselves to prevent an attempt to finish the genocide.
Two years ago, the Rwandan invasion of former Zaire was an open secret. There were too many evidently Tutsi soldiers and English-speakers for Kigali’s denials to have credibility. Eventually the real power in Rwanda – army chief and Vice-President Paul Kagame – confessed that it was his army which brought down Mobutu. Few were surprised or hostile. The United States gave its blessing to Rwanda’s mission to clear the refugee camps on its border from which the Hutu extremists who led the genocide were perpetuating the killing. That limited operation evolved into a plan to depose Mobutu when his army collapsed almost without a fight.
This time, the conflict is less clear cut. The security threat is still there, but not in as easily identifiable a manner as the camps.
Kigali may not have chosen wisely in elevating Kabila, but it argued he was the best available frontman. Since then it has grown increasingly weary of Kabila’s incompetence and failure to stabilise Congo’s eastern border with Rwanda.
The final straw was his demand that Rwandan troops go home. Kabila dismissed the Rwandan officer who commanded his army and ordered the remaining Rwandan soldiers out of the country. Kigali said they had been withdrawn willingly but within days another “rebellion” had sprung up in the east.
It is doubtful Kabila could have ever have balanced the competing interests. The Rwandans’ high visibility offended Congolese nationalist sensibilities. But without them, Kinshasa had no real army. And without Rwandan soldiers on Congolese soil, Kigali felt Kabila had betrayed his part of the bargain.
Rwanda is so keen to deny involvement this time it even took out an advert in regional newspapers. But despite the denials, officials and military chiefs from Mobutu’s day pitched up in Kigali last week, including the former prime minister, Kengo wa Dondo, and various generals.
There is no love lost between them and the Rwandans, but there is a meeting of interests and if they are to play a role in the future governance of Congo they will by now understand what Kigali expects of them.
If substantial enough, foreign help could prevent the collapse of Kabila’s government, but it would be unlikely to reverse the rebel victories. More importantly it would not resolve the paramount issue – Rwanda’s security.
If Kabila remains in charge of a rump government, it is likely that Rwanda will effectively annex eastern Congo. Kigali will simply refuse to accept a hostile or incompetent administration in Kinshasa.
At its most extreme, the latest war could lay the ground for the break-up of Congo. If Rwanda takes the east, it could revive the old secessionist spirit in the mineral-rich southern province of Katanga.
But that is some way off. For now, though, there is little hope of lasting stability in Congo unless Rwanda’s determination to fend off genocide is taken on board.