In the Democratic Republic of the Congo, a nation already divided by armed rebellion in its eastern provinces, President Félix Tshisekedi's government is advancing constitutional reforms that opponents fear are designed to extend his rule beyond the 2028 term limit. The tension between institutional self-preservation and democratic succession is an ancient one, but in Congo it unfolds against a backdrop of displaced populations, contested territory, and a citizenry many of whom cannot yet parse what is being proposed. Whether the country can agree on the rules of power before the rules themsel
DRC's Constitutional Crisis: Tshisekedi's Reform Push Threatens 2028 Succession Rules
The constitution will change. It is whether Congo can agree on the rules.
Why does Tshisekedi's comment about accepting a third term matter so much? He said he hadn't sought it.
Because in Congo, words like that don't exist in a vacuum. The moment a president says he'd accept something, opponents hear a door opening. The constitution explicitly forbids changing the term limit. So the real question becomes: how do you change it without appearing to change it?
And the referendum mechanism does that?
It could. The law allows for a constituent assembly and referendum during "major dysfunction." That's elastic language. Once you have a new constitution written by a constituent assembly, the two-term limit could disappear.
But the opposition is mobilizing. Doesn't that stop it?
It complicates it. But here's the harder part: Tshisekedi controls Parliament. And while C64 is organizing protests, the government is also offering dialogue. It's a pressure play from both sides.
What about the war in the east? How does that change things?
It changes everything and nothing. Tshisekedi can argue that elections may be impossible in 2028 if the fighting continues. That's not entirely false. But it also gives him cover to delay, to reform, to reshape the rules while claiming necessity.
And the people in Goma—they won't recognize any changes anyway?
Exactly. Mulume's point is devastating: if M23 controls the east, constitutional amendments from Kinshasa are just words. The country is already fragmenting politically. Constitutional reform could accelerate that.
So what happens in September?
The opposition protests. Parliament deliberates. Tshisekedi offers dialogue. And the clock keeps running toward 2028, with no one certain what the rules will be.
O Pulso
- Tshisekedi's careful public statement that he would accept a third term 'if citizens wished it' was enough to trigger a constitutional crisis two years before his mandate expires.
- Parliament, the Constitutional Court, and the National Assembly are all now entangled in a reform process built around a vaguely defined 'major dysfunction' clause that critics say could justify almost any power consolidation.
- The C64 opposition coalition — named for the constitutional article demanding citizen resistance to unconstitutional seizures of power — is mobilizing nationwide protests for September 15, with thousands already demonstrating in Goma and Bukavu.
- M23 rebels control those same eastern cities, and civil society voices there warn that any mandate extension would not be recognized in territories already beyond Kinshasa's reach.
- Tshisekedi has proposed a national dialogue but excluded those he accuses of aligning with Rwanda or the rebellion, narrowing the table precisely when the country most needs it widened.
In the Democratic Republic of the Congo, a nation already divided by armed rebellion in its eastern provinces, President Félix Tshisekedi's government is advancing constitutional reforms that opponents fear are designed to extend his rule beyond the 2028 term limit. The tension between institutional self-preservation and democratic succession is an ancient one, but in Congo it unfolds against a backdrop of displaced populations, contested territory, and a citizenry many of whom cannot yet parse what is being proposed. Whether the country can agree on the rules of power before the rules themselves are rewritten may determine not only who governs next, but whether the idea of a unified Congo endures.
President Félix Tshisekedi is constitutionally bound to leave office in 2028, but the DRC is already fracturing over whether those rules will survive until then. In May, Tshisekedi said he had not sought a third term but would accept one if citizens demanded it — a statement measured in tone but incendiary in effect. His government has since moved to advance a referendum mechanism through Parliament and the Constitutional Court, framed as institutional modernization but widely read as a path to extending his tenure. The mechanism hinges on a loosely defined concept of state "major dysfunction," a phrase elastic enough to justify sweeping change.
Opposition forces have organized under the banner of C64, named for the constitutional article requiring citizens to resist unconstitutional seizures of power. Nationwide protests are planned for September 15, and thousands already demonstrated in Goma and Bukavu in late July. Opposition politician Jean-Marc Kabund warned that pursuing constitutional revision during an active war risks fracturing national unity entirely.
That war is the second crisis running in parallel. The M23 rebel coalition, which the Congolese government accuses Rwanda of backing, controls Goma and Bukavu — the capitals of both Kivu provinces. Tshisekedi has argued that credible elections in 2028 may be impossible while eastern territories remain outside government control. From those territories, civil society activist Gentil Mulume warned that any mandate extension would not be recognized there, framing the constitutional battle as yet another expression of the long divide between Kinshasa and the east.
Amid the competing crises, many ordinary Congolese remain uncertain what is even being proposed. A 30-year-old Kinshasa vendor captured the confusion plainly: he said he lacked enough knowledge of the constitution to take a position and asked the state simply to explain what needed changing and why. Tshisekedi has proposed an inclusive national dialogue, but has excluded those he accuses of aligning with the rebellion — a condition that opposition figures say forecloses the very breadth such talks would require. The question facing Congo is no longer only whether the constitution will change, but whether its political forces can agree on the rules of succession at all.
President Felix Tshisekedi will leave office in 2028 under the Democratic Republic of the Congo's current constitution. But with more than two years remaining in his mandate, the country is already convulsing over what comes next—and whether the rules that govern his departure might be rewritten before he has to leave.
In May, Tshisekedi said he had not sought a third term but would accept one if Congolese citizens wanted him to stay. The statement was careful, almost deferential. It was also enough to ignite a constitutional crisis. Under the existing constitution, presidents serve five-year terms, renewable once. That two-term limit is explicitly protected from revision. Yet Tshisekedi's government has begun advancing a reform process that opponents fear could eventually hollow out that protection. The government frames the effort as necessary institutional modernization. Critics see a pathway being cleared for the president to remain in power beyond 2028.
The machinery of change moved quickly. In June, Parliament passed legislation establishing conditions for a referendum. The Constitutional Court approved it in July, though with reservations about certain provisions. On August 10, Tshisekedi asked lawmakers to reconsider the bill in light of the court's concerns. The National Assembly scheduled fresh deliberations for September. The proposed mechanism would allow for a constituent assembly and referendum in cases of what the law calls "major dysfunction" of state institutions—a definition vague enough to encompass almost anything.
The opposition has coalesced around an organization called C64, named for Article 64 of the constitution, which calls on citizens to resist anyone who seizes power in violation of constitutional order. C64 announced a nationwide mobilization for September 15, with demonstrations planned to converge on the Palais du Peuple, Parliament's seat in Kinshasa. Thousands already took to the streets in Goma and Bukavu on July 28 to protest the proposed changes. Jean-Marc Kabund, an opposition politician, told journalists that no constitutional revision, referendum, or legal maneuver should be permitted to circumvent the existing constitution. He warned that pursuing such changes while the country fights an active war could fracture national unity.
That war is the second crisis reshaping Congolese politics. M23, an armed group operating within a broader coalition called the Alliance Fleuve Congo, controls Goma and Bukavu—the capitals of North Kivu and South Kivu provinces. The Congolese government accuses Rwanda of backing M23; Rwanda denies the charge. The rebellion has seized vast territory and displaced populations across the east. Tshisekedi has suggested that elections in 2028 may be impossible if fighting continues, arguing that credible voting cannot occur in regions beyond government control.
The constitutional dispute is being watched from territory the government no longer commands. Gentil Mulume, a civil society activist in Goma, said that any constitutional amendment extending Tshisekedi's tenure would not be recognized in M23-controlled areas. He framed the conflict as symptomatic of a deeper divide between Kinshasa and the east, suggesting that continued Tshisekedi rule could be perceived there as domination. His words illustrate how a constitutional battle in the capital is being interpreted in places already beyond the government's reach.
Yet there is also a simpler problem: many ordinary Congolese do not understand what is being proposed. Kevin Kalala, a 30-year-old mobile-credit retailer in Kinshasa, said he lacks sufficient knowledge of the constitution to take a position. He called on the state to educate citizens about which provisions need changing, why, and what benefits would follow. "I am neither for nor against amending the constitution," he said.
As tensions mount, Tshisekedi has proposed an inclusive national dialogue involving political parties, civil society, and religious groups. While in Gabon on August 16, he said he would soon address the nation to outline his vision and the shape of the talks. The date and format remain unannounced. He has ruled out sitting with those he accuses of siding with Rwanda or the armed rebellion. Martin Fayulu, who challenged Tshisekedi in the 2018 election, has called for the participation of former President Joseph Kabila and Corneille Nangaa, the political leader of the AFC.
The constitutional dispute is now running in parallel with the war in the east and the uncertainty hanging over 2028. The question is no longer simply whether the constitution will change. It is whether Congo's political forces can agree on the rules governing succession at all—and whether they can do so while the country fractures.
Citações Notáveis
No constitutional revision, referendum or legal maneuver should be allowed to circumvent the current constitution.— Jean-Marc Kabund, opposition politician
If Tshisekedi dares to amend this constitution to extend his term of office, it will not be recognised here.— Gentil Mulume, civil society activist in Goma