The border between the Democratic Republic of Congo and Rwanda is hot again—and not because of the equatorial sun.
In a region where tension is as common as rain, the latest flare-up between the DRC and Rwanda has reignited old accusations, newer denials, and a dangerous game of political brinkmanship with real lives caught in the middle. The trigger this time? A fresh round of clashes between Congolese government forces and the M23 rebel group in North Kivu, which Kinshasa accuses Kigali of backing—again.
Congo’s army recently stepped up its operations against M23 positions near the strategic towns of Sake and Goma, deploying helicopters and heavy artillery in a bid to dislodge the rebels. The problem is that these rebels—well-trained, well-equipped, and highly mobile—appear to be receiving more than just divine intervention. At least, that’s what Congolese officials say. According to Kinshasa, M23 is nothing short of a Rwandan proxy force, reactivated and rearmed with state help. Rwanda, predictably, says pas du tout.
It’s a script that’s played out many times before: Kinshasa points fingers, Kigali shrugs, and regional observers wince. But this time the stakes feel higher. The DRC is gearing up for large-scale elections and attempting to stabilize its conflict-ridden east, while Rwanda continues to polish its international image as a model of post-genocide recovery and tech-fueled progress. A proxy war does neither of them any favors—yet both seem trapped in a cycle they can’t escape.
The M23 (March 23 Movement) originally rose to prominence in 2012 when it seized Goma, the capital of North Kivu province, only to withdraw after international pressure. The group had claimed it was fighting for the rights of Congolese Tutsis, a claim laced with ethnic tension and regional history. Despite a 2013 peace deal, the movement reemerged in 2021, and since then has launched a series of offensives that have displaced over 1 million people.
The United Nations has also backed up some of Congo’s claims. In multiple reports, UN experts have cited evidence that Rwanda has provided support to M23 fighters, including arms, logistics, and even direct troop presence inside Congolese territory. Rwanda denies this with the speed and frequency of a malfunctioning chatbot: “Not true,” “Never happened,” “Provocation.” Yet the reports keep coming.
Meanwhile, Rwanda accuses the DRC of harboring the Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Rwanda (FDLR), a militia composed of remnants of the Hutu extremists who carried out the 1994 genocide. The FDLR occasionally stages attacks from Congolese territory, giving Kigali a convenient justification for maintaining a “security interest” across the border. It’s a tit-for-tat that allows both capitals to play the victim while maintaining plausible (if crumbling) deniability.
Caught in the middle of all this are the civilians—Congolese families who have fled yet another wave of gunfire, farmers whose land is now no-man’s-land, and children who have never known peace. Entire towns have emptied out as the military operations heat up, while humanitarian agencies scramble to find shelter and food for the displaced.
Diplomatically, the region is in disarray. The East African Community (EAC), which deployed a regional force to contain the violence, recently saw its mission expire after Kinshasa accused the troops of ineffectiveness and coziness with rebels. The new Southern African Development Community (SADC) intervention force, including troops from South Africa and Malawi, is trying to fill the gap—but trust is low, and the terrain is unforgiving.
The African Union has issued its usual calls for restraint. The UN Security Council held another round of closed-door meetings. And Western donors, who previously backed Rwanda as a development darling, are increasingly voicing concern about Kigali’s regional behavior. In fact, some European countries have already frozen military aid to Rwanda, citing evidence of its involvement in eastern Congo. But Rwanda, ever image-conscious, has brushed off the criticism, confident in its tightly controlled narrative and savvy diplomacy.
The sad irony is that both Rwanda and the DRC claim to be pursuing peace while actively enabling its opposite. As long as regional loyalties, ethnic divisions, and mineral wealth remain entangled in the conflict, meaningful dialogue is unlikely to take hold. And for every round of negotiations, there seems to be another shell fired, another accusation hurled, and another village burned.
For now, the fighting continues, the border simmers, and the people suffer. And somewhere, in an air-conditioned office far from the battlefront, two presidents are watching it all unfold, each convinced that the other one blinked first.
