In a country where the political stage often doubles as a circus tent, December 2024 began with President Félix Tshisekedi of the Democratic Republic of Congo (DR Congo)—starring in a new act. Chosen title was, ‘Divine Comedy: Prayers, Witch Doctors, and the Gospel of Scapegoating.’ Wait! Speaking at a Catholic prayer gathering, Tshisekedi issued a clarion call—not for better governance or decisive leadership, mind you, but for divine intervention. In a melodramatic display of political piety, he made an extraordinary appeal–calling on the Church to organize prayer crusades across the DR Congo to summon a miracle to end the war in the east. He said loudly; “I would like to ask you one thing, especially those of you who share the Catholic faith. If the Church, as the family of God, could organise prayers throughout the country, it could bring about a miracle, for example, the end of the war in the east of our country,” he said. This would lead him to know—also demonstrate “that the Church does not support the rebellion...” He added, the prayers “could contribute to our sister Anuarite being canonised.” Tshisekedi proclaimed, subtly suggesting that failure to convene such divine intercessions would imply ecclesiastical complicity in the ongoing conflict. This dramatic moment marked an epiphany of sorts in Tshisekedi’s narrative arc. Amid the pageantry—he delivered a surprise twist, using the word rebellion to describe M23 instead of his usual “terrorists” or “foreign aggressors.” For a man who has spent years blaming Rwanda for every pothole in Kinshasa and every gunshot in Goma, this shift was seismic. Recognising M23 as rebels, implicitly acknowledging their Congolese roots, marked a moment of rare lucidity. Should there be a miracle in Luanda? In a twist as miraculous as any biblical tale, President Tshisekedi is set to meet President Paul Kagame of Rwanda on December 15, 2024 in Luanda, Angola. For him the summit on Sunday could mean something! The goal of the summit? According to the DR Congo’s Minister of Foreign Affairs, it’s to secure “the departure of Rwandan troops.” The irony is rich, given that the Rwandan troops Tshisekedi government refers to, seem to exist more in his imagination than on Congolese soil. This single-minded myth, propagated by Tshisekedi and his inner circle, is as baseless as it is convenient—a scapegoat to deflect attention from his administration’s failures. It is a narrative designed to revitalize his domestic base while avoiding the uncomfortable truths of his government’s complicity in the chaos engulfing the eastern DR Congo. This meeting comes as a sharp pivot for a leader whose words often outpace his thoughts. During the 2023 election campaign, Tshisekedi theatrically proclaimed that a meeting with Kagame would only happen in the afterlife. Last April, in another moment of rhetorical abandon—he shifted the narrative, announcing that if he ever did meet Kagame, it would be to confront him as a “criminal” and declare, “enough is enough.” OK! A bold statement, no doubt, but one that reveals more about Tshisekedi’s penchant for demagoguery spruced with inflammatory rhetoric than any genuine commitment to resolving his country’s problems. Such statements make for great campaign soundbites but are catastrophic for diplomacy. Tshisekedi’s habit of speaking first and thinking (if at all) later has turned him into a walking diplomatic hazard. His insults and threats don’t just burn bridges; they incinerate any hope of constructive dialogue. Evidently, heaven can now be found in Luanda. The mediator of this celestial encounter-turned-political summit is Angola’s President João Lourenço, a man undoubtedly blessed with patience, given the unpredictability of his Congolese counterpart. If Tshisekedi approaches the Luanda meeting with his usual mix of bravado and victimhood, it’s unlikely much will change. Confronting President Kagame or anyone else without addressing the root causes of his country’s instability is like yelling at the mirror and expecting the reflection to change. The miracle of clarity and that of diplomacy The truth is that the conflict in the DRC’s east—and the accompanying regional instability—requires far more than grandstanding and blame-shifting. Tshisekedi’s fixation on Rwanda as the source of all Congolese woes ignores the glaring reality that his own government’s failures and the cancerous presence of the FDLR militia are central to the problem. The Catholic priests shouldn’t forget to pray for that, during the presidential specially requested prayer crusade. For decades, the FDLR, a militia born from the ashes of the 1994 Genocide Against the Tutsi, has terrorised the region. Instead of confronting this group, Tshisekedi has babied and coddled it, allowing genocidal ideologies to thrive and destabilize not just the DR Congo but the entire Great Lakes region. In the world of international relations, effective leadership requires tact, vision, and a willingness to find the middle ground. None of these qualities are apparent in Tshisekedi’s track record. His inflammatory outbursts about Rwanda are matched only by his lack of action in addressing his country’s internal crises. The Congolese president’s tirades might play well with his domestic audience, but they make him a difficult partner on the global stage. Diplomacy is an art, not a shouting match. Tshisekedi’s insults and threats undermine any chance of reaching a meaningful agreement in Luanda. For Tshisekedi, the meeting with Kagame is not just about resolving the crisis in the east—it’s about proving that he is capable of leadership beyond pomposity. Whether he can rise to the occasion remains to be seen. Miracles, witch doctors, and a nation in crisis As Tshisekedi prepares to face Kagame in Luanda, he might reflect on what kind of legacy he hopes to leave behind. Does he want to be remembered as a leader who sought peace and stability for his people? Or will he go down in history as the man who squandered every opportunity to unite his country by scapegoating Rwanda and embracing genocidal militias? The road to Luanda might not lead to paradise, but it does offer Tshisekedi a chance to show that he can lead with substance rather than spectacle. The question is whether he will seize it—or if miracles really are the only hope left for the DRC. Tshisekedi’s penchant for the metaphysical is not new. Not long ago, he famously summoned an eclectic group of sorcerers and witch doctors at the State House in Kinshasa, pleading with them to use their powers to bring victories against M23 rebels or perhaps to secure his political future. But Tshisekedi being Tshisekedi, this brief flash of realism was overshadowed by the absurdity of asking for miracles while presiding over a government complicit in creating the very crises he now prays to end. When the witch doctors failed to conjure peace, the President turned to the clergy asking for a national campaign of prayers to “obtain a miracle” and end the war. At this rate, we should expect appeals to astrologers and tarot card readers by mid-2025. The president went further—with sort of intimidation, cautioning that if the church fails to organise these prayer crusades, it will be considered complicit in the rebellion. In a moment of unintended satire, Tshisekedi’s use of the word “rebellion” was itself a small miracle, given his usual insistence on labeling the M23 as “terrorists” or agents of Rwanda. One might liken it to a rare moment of clarity in an otherwise murky political narrative. It was, in biblical terms, a road-to-Damascus moment—akin to Saul seeing the miraculous star that transformed him into Paul. However, before we celebrate this revelation as a step toward enlightenment, let us remember that this is not Tshisekedi’s first flirtation with the metaphysical, or his first foray into supernatural problem-solving to his country’s troubles. But what happens if the prayers don’t work? If miracles were the answer, surely the Congolese people would prioritize asking for a competent government—one that addresses real problems like impassable roads, crumbling hospitals, unpaid workers, and systemic corruption. A miracle might also inspire Tshisekedi to abandon scapegoating Rwanda for his administration’s shortcomings and instead tackle the root causes of his country’s instability. The road to Luanda and masterclass in diplomatic missteps Tshisekedi’s antics might amuse his inner circle, but they would leave Carl von Clausewitz, the 19th-century military theorist, shaking his head. In ON WAR, Clausewitz writes: “If we then ask what sort of mind is likeliest to display the qualities of military genius, experience and observation will both tell us that it is the inquiring rather than the creative mind, the comprehensive rather than the specialized approach, the calm rather than the excitable head to which in war we would choose to entrust.” By Clausewitz’s standards, Tshisekedi’s leadership is a case study in what not to do. What would Clausewitz think of Tshisekedi’s reliance on witch doctors, prayer crusades, and inflammatory rhetoric? He would likely consider it the antithesis of military and political genius. Instead of addressing the legitimate grievances raised by the M23—grievances rooted in decades of marginalization, land disputes, ethnic persecution, and the displacement of Congolese refugees—Tshisekedi has chosen the route of scapegoating and deflection. Imagine a President who opts for rhetorical gymnastics and spiritual outsourcing. Laughable! A serene and inquiring leader might have paused to consider the costs and consequences of embracing the FDLR and other militias. Perhaps Tshisekedi could reflect on how his alliances with genocidal forces not only fuel insecurity but also tarnish his legacy. He would understand that allowing genocidal forces to thrive within the DRC’s borders is not just a strategic blunder but a moral failing. And he would see that addressing the root causes of conflict—land disputes, ethnic discrimination, and the lack of governance—requires dialogue, not demonization. One wonders if Tshisekedi has ever asked himself what future generations will think when they recall his tenure. Will they remember a leader who united the country, or one who dabbled in witchcraft while his citizens barbecued each other? Clausewitz’s insight underscores what Tshisekedi lacks—a calm, thoughtful approach to leadership. Instead of addressing the real issues, he opts for bluster and politicking. The FDLR, a militia composed of remnants of the genocidaires who perpetrated the 1994 Genocide Against the Tutsi, has metastasized into a cancer eating away at the DRC and the region. Rather than uprooting this malignant force, Tshisekedi’s government has embraced it as a “patriotic” ally, further destabilizing the eastern DRC. The cost? Ever increasing hundreds of thousands of Congolese refugees languishing in camps in Rwanda, Uganda, and beyond, driven from their homes by the FDLR and its genocidal ideology. But the tragedy doesn’t end there. In South Kivu, the government colludes with Burundian militias to massacre Banyamulenge communities, while in North Kivu and Ituri, the Hema are being slaughtered in what amounts to ethnic cleansing. Amidst this bloodshed, Congolese soldiers and local politicians stand accused of orchestrating or abetting these atrocities, an incriminatory indictment of Tshisekedi’s leadership. Even more grotesque is the government’s tolerance for barbaric acts like cannibalism, captured on camera as young Congolese are seen barbequing and consuming their compatriots. How does he sleep at night knowing that children in his country are growing up in a culture where cannibalism is normalized? Does he not see that tolerating these crimes is a green light for more politically produced cannibals? This is not just a failure of governance; it is a moral collapse of epic proportions. By allowing these atrocities to continue unchecked, Tshisekedi is cultivating a society where hate, violence, and inhumanity are the norms. What kind of legacy does Tshisekedi hope to leave behind when his silence on such crimes amounts to tacit approval? As Tshisekedi prepares to face Kagame, he must not confront him just as a person he considers his regional rival— but as meeting a leader who can advise anyone on how to make a country succeed out of abject failures. Kagame remains a symbol of accomplishment to his country. Tshisekedi shouldn’t miss the occasion if he wishes, to get lessons on how to battle and overwhelm genocidaires and their venomous ideology. The grievances of the M23 are clear and actionable: the safe return of over half a million Congolese refugees and a commitment to ending the ethnic hatred that fuels violence in the east. At Luanda Tshisekedi must also reckon with the consequences of arming and legitimizing the FDLR, a group whose very existence undermines peace efforts in his country and the region. It’s easier to brand Kagame as the villain than to address the uncomfortable truths about the DRC’s governance in shambles. The Luanda summit offers Tshisekedi an opening to pivot from blame to accountability. However, his track record suggests that he will stick to his well-worn script of deflection and denial. Picture-perfect of ‘Kumbaya’ choruses, but who are not criminals. A legacy of smoke and mirrors The question for Tshisekedi is this: What legacy does he wish to leave behind? Will he be remembered as the leader who presided over the DR Congo’s descent into chaos, or as a statesman who rose above petty rhetoric to secure lasting peace? Diplomacy requires more than slogans and scapegoats—it demands courage, introspection, and a willingness to make difficult choices. Tshisekedi’s reliance on hate-mongers like Justice Minister Constant Mutamba and Justin Bitakwira, whose vitriolic rhetoric has poisoned Congolese society, only deepens the divisions he claims to oppose. Removing these individuals from his inner circle would be a meaningful first step toward reconciliation. Of course, followed by their prosecution. The road to Luanda is paved with opportunities for change. Whether Tshisekedi seizes them or continues down his path of self-destruction will determine not just his political future but the fate of millions of Congolese citizens. In the end, the miracle the DR Congo needs is not heavenly intercessions but leadership grounded in reality. For now, miracles remain a distant hope, while the people of the DRC bear the brunt of their leader’s failures.
