Congo's politicians think only of themselves, not the people
In the shadow of a war that has claimed thousands of lives and uprooted hundreds of thousands more, the Democratic Republic of Congo has turned to the oldest of diplomatic currencies — the promise of resources — to attract a powerful protector. President Tshisekedi has offered Donald Trump access to cobalt, coltan, and copper in exchange for military support against the M-23 rebels, mirroring a strategy already attempted with Ukraine. The offer lays bare a deeper truth of our era: that the minerals powering modern civilization have become the new terrain on which nations negotiate their survival.
- Eastern Congo is in freefall — M-23 rebels have seized two provincial capitals, killed nearly 8,500 people, and driven 400,000 Congolese across international borders in a matter of months.
- Tshisekedi is gambling that Trump's appetite for critical minerals outside Chinese supply chains is strong enough to override thirty years of American loyalty to Rwanda.
- The deal faces structural obstacles that may be insurmountable: Congo's sweeping long-term mineral contract with China cannot simply be torn up, and Washington has deep institutional ties to Kigali.
- Even a successful agreement raises troubling questions — a Congolese journalist warns that neither American companies nor Congo's own political class can be trusted to leave anything of value behind for ordinary Congolese.
- Diplomatic efforts are flickering but fragile: a Qatar-mediated ceasefire call came just days after M-23 walked out of separate peace talks in Angola, and the rebels continue to advance.
The Democratic Republic of Congo is wagering on American self-interest to end a war that has consumed its eastern territories. In a letter to Donald Trump, President Félix Tshisekedi made a direct proposition: military aid against the M-23 rebels in exchange for American access to cobalt, coltan, copper, lithium, and tantalum — the minerals at the heart of electric vehicles, smartphones, and the broader technology economy. The offer consciously echoes a deal Trump has already pursued with Ukraine over rare earth minerals.
The crisis driving the proposal is severe. The M-23, a rebel group backed by Rwanda and led by ethnic Tutsis, has spent recent months seizing Goma and Bukavu — provincial capitals valued less for their populations than for their proximity to mineral wealth. Congo's government reports nearly 8,500 deaths and 400,000 people displaced into Burundi and Tanzania. Tshisekedi's calculation is that Washington might be persuaded to shift its allegiances if the strategic prize were made clear enough.
Analysts are skeptical. Congo holds a vast, long-term mineral agreement with China that cannot easily be set aside, and the United States has spent three decades as Rwanda's patron — a relationship not easily reversed by a single letter. A Congolese journalist gave voice to a deeper concern: even if the deal were struck, Congo's political leadership in Kinshasa would likely pocket the gains, while American companies extracted the minerals and departed, leaving behind none of the infrastructure that Chinese and Indian partners at least occasionally provide.
Meanwhile, diplomacy is moving in parallel but without conviction. Tshisekedi and Rwanda's President Kagame met in Qatar this week, producing a joint call for an immediate ceasefire. Yet M-23 had already withdrawn from separate peace talks in Angola, citing sanctions against the group and Rwandan officials, and continues to press forward militarily. The conflict itself stretches back more than thirty years and has cost over six million lives in total — a wound that international mediation has repeatedly failed to close. Whether Trump's Washington will see in Congo's minerals a reason to finally intervene, and whether intervention would change anything for the people living through the war, remains an open question.
The Democratic Republic of Congo is betting on American self-interest to end a war that has consumed the eastern half of the country for months. In a letter sent to Donald Trump last month, President Félix Tshisekedi made a straightforward offer: give us military aid to fight the M-23 rebels, and in return, American companies get access to the minerals that power the modern world—cobalt, coltan, copper, lithium, tantalum. These are the elements that live inside electric car batteries, smartphones, and tablets. They are also the elements that American tech manufacturers desperately want secured outside of Chinese supply chains.
The proposal mirrors a strategy Trump has already embraced elsewhere. He has announced plans to strike a similar deal with Ukraine over rare earth minerals as part of his broader peace negotiations with Russia. But Congo's offer arrives at a moment of acute crisis. The M-23, a rebel group backed by Rwanda and led by ethnic Tutsis, has spent the past three months on an offensive that has redrawn the map of eastern Congo. The group seized Goma and Bukavu, two provincial capitals whose value lies not in their population but in their proximity to mineral deposits. According to Congo's government, nearly 8,500 people have died in the fighting—many of them civilians caught between armies. Another 400,000 Congolese have fled across borders into Burundi and Tanzania, carrying what they could carry.
The logic of Tshisekedi's proposal is simple: Rwanda has been sending weapons and troops to support the M-23 for decades. The United States has historically backed Rwanda with its own aid and diplomatic cover. If Washington could be convinced that its strategic interests lay with Congo instead—that securing these minerals mattered more than maintaining the status quo—then perhaps American military support could tip the balance. Tshisekedi framed the alliance as offering the United States a decisive advantage in the competition for critical resources.
But analysts who follow Congo closely see the proposal as unlikely to succeed, and for reasons that cut deeper than geopolitics. The Democratic Republic of Congo has signed what some call the contract of the century with China—a massive, long-term agreement that cannot simply be abandoned for a better offer from Washington. More fundamentally, the United States has spent decades as Rwanda's patron. Reversing that relationship would require a shift in American foreign policy that goes against thirty years of established practice. There is also the matter of what Congo's own people might actually receive from such a deal. Plotin Yambenga, a Congolese journalist, acknowledged that an American alliance could theoretically end the armed groups destabilizing the east. But he expressed doubt that Congo's current political leadership would invest any resulting wealth in infrastructure or public benefit. The politicians in Kinshasa, he suggested, think primarily of themselves. American companies, he added, would extract the minerals and leave nothing behind—unlike China and India, which at least build roads and power plants.
The proposal also arrives at a moment when both sides are supposedly talking. This week, Tshisekedi and Rwanda's President Paul Kagame met in Qatar to discuss a ceasefire. A joint statement, mediated by Qatar, called for an immediate and unconditional halt to fighting and pledged to continue negotiations aimed at durable peace. Yet the M-23 has shown little interest in compromise. Days before the Qatar meeting, the rebel group unilaterally withdrew from peace talks in Angola, citing European Union sanctions against the group and Rwandan officials. The group continues to advance, attempting to seize new territory.
The conflict between Rwanda and Congo has been festering for more than three decades, leaving behind a death toll that exceeds six million people. Rwanda claims its forces act in self-defense against Congo's army and anti-Kigali militias. Congo accuses Rwanda of using the M-23 as a proxy to expand its own territory and control mineral wealth. Neither side has shown willingness to abandon its ambitions. International mediation has repeatedly failed. Tshisekedi's gambit with Trump represents a new attempt to break the stalemate by offering something America wants. Whether Washington will take the offer—and whether doing so would actually change anything on the ground—remains to be seen.
Citas Notables
The DRC has a massive contract with China that cannot be broken, and the U.S. has historically supported Rwanda, making this deal unlikely to succeed.— Julián Gómez-Cambronero, author of '¿A quién le importa el Congo?'
Congo's current political leadership risks failing to invest any resulting wealth in public benefit, and American companies would extract minerals without leaving infrastructure behind.— Plotin Yambenga, Congolese journalist
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why would Trump care about Congo's minerals when the U.S. has historically backed Rwanda?
Because the geopolitics of minerals have shifted. China controls most of the supply chains for critical resources. Trump sees an opportunity to secure those supplies through American companies instead. It's not about Congo's welfare—it's about American manufacturing independence.
But doesn't Congo already have a massive contract with China?
Yes, the so-called contract of the century. That's the core problem. Congo can't simply tear up a binding agreement with Beijing to make a new one with Washington. The economic and political costs would be enormous.
What about the people dying in the fighting? Does this deal address that?
In theory, yes. If American military aid tips the balance against M-23, the fighting could end. But the rebels have shown no real interest in peace talks. They keep advancing. A deal with Trump doesn't mean M-23 will stop fighting.
Who actually benefits if Congo gets American military support?
That's the skepticism you're hearing from analysts. Congo's political leadership has a track record of corruption and self-dealing. Even if the minerals bring wealth, there's no guarantee ordinary Congolese see any of it. The infrastructure, the jobs, the development—those might never materialize.
So this is just another resource grab dressed up as strategy?
It's more complicated than that. Tshisekedi is trying to use Congo's natural wealth as leverage to solve a genuine security crisis. But the structural problems—Rwanda's backing of M-23, America's historical alliance with Rwanda, China's existing contracts—those don't disappear just because minerals are on the table.
What would actually need to happen for peace to take hold?
Rwanda would have to stop supporting M-23. The U.S. would have to pressure Rwanda to do that. And M-23 would have to agree to stop expanding. Right now, none of those conditions exist. The group is still advancing.