DRC Leader Blames Foreign Hands as Rwanda Peace Deal Nears Completion

​By Martin Foskett | Newswire | Knelstrom Media

KINSHASA, DRC. As world leaders swapped suits for linen and climate targets in Brazil, President Félix Tshisekedi stood beside a ficus plant and accused unnamed foreign interests of fuelling a war that has displaced millions in his country’s east. “We are not naïve,” he said. “This war was created because of our wealth.”

Speaking on the fringes of the COP30 climate summit in Belém, the Congolese president claimed a peace agreement with neighbouring Rwanda is "almost finalised," with formal invitations to be issued "in a few days" by the White House. The announcement, delivered with the controlled calm of a man well used to microphones, marks the closest Kinshasa and Kigali have come to an enforceable settlement since their relations unravelled in blood and attrition across the Kivu provinces.

The June 2025 accord, and its economic sequel signed in Washington last week, remain largely theoretical,  pending a series of security commitments few believe will materialise quickly. These include the withdrawal of Rwandan troops from Congolese territory and the dismantling of FDLR operations still active in border zones. Implementation, in the dry language of diplomats, is "condition-based." In the language of civilians in North Kivu, it is long overdue.

Tshisekedi's framing of the war as a foreign-led resource grab adds a sharp edge to proceedings. For years, critics in Kinshasa have pointed to the strategic appetite for Congolese coltan, cobalt and gold. This mineral constellation has attracted mercenaries, militias, and the occasional multinational with a fuzzy definition of compliance. The president's comments place these suspicions squarely on the international record.

The Rwandan government denies supporting the M23 rebel group, which has steadily advanced across eastern territories in recent months. Kigali insists its incursions are defensive in nature, aimed at neutralising the FDLR, a remnant Hutu militia with links to the 1994 genocide. Observers, mostly tired ones, describe the back-and-forth as "plausibly deniable war-by-proxy."

Inside Congo, the cost is more concrete. Villages emptied at dawn. Market stalls burned after dark. Roads where UN convoys pass, but little else. The east of the country has remained in a state of rolling instability for decades. Still, recent fighting has triggered new waves of displacement and inflamed regional politics, drawing in the African Union, European envoys, and now, formally, the Americans.

"We have reached the limit," Tshisekedi said, possibly referring to patience, possibly to political capital. "Now it is time to reap the fruits of lasting peace." The line had the tone of a campaign speech, though no election posters were visible amid the climate gloss.

Analysts suggest that the president's remarks signal a shift: from a bilateral confrontation with Rwanda to a broader indictment of the geopolitical scramble beneath the soil of Congo. Whether that shift helps or hinders peace remains to be seen. The same minerals that fund militias also underwrite state budgets. And the same international actors accused of meddling are also courted for investment.

For now, eastern Congo remains under the shadow of guns, promises and paperwork. Peace is being drafted in Washington. Whether it lands in Goma, or drifts quietly into another diplomatic drawer, is a story yet to be written.