The deployment of South African troops to the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) under the Southern African Development Community (SADC) mission was initially framed as a commitment to regional stability. However, it has morphed into something far more sinister—a tragic betrayal of the values a country like South Africa once championed. Today, the army from Nelson Mandela’s land finds itself in a joint operation with European mercenaries and the genocidal Forces Démocratiques de Libération du Rwanda (FDLR). They are sharing intelligence, providing covering fire with heavy artillery, and directly enabling a regime that refuses to address the legitimate grievances of its own citizens. This is not merely a military operation—it is a travesty. How did South Africa, a nation that overcame apartheid through dialogue and reconciliation, end up siding with forces whose sole objective is to crush a people fighting for survival? A war against a people with a just cause The resurgence of the Mouvement du 23 Mars (M23) is not an arbitrary rebellion. It is the result of systemic discrimination, state-sanctioned marginalization, and existential threats against a Congolese ethnic group that has been cast as second-class citizens in their own country. Instead of addressing these legitimate grievances, President Félix Tshisekedi’s government has chosen brute force, enlisting South African troops—among others— in a war that should never have been fought. M23 is not simply another insurgency; it is a movement propelled by survival. As military strategists have long noted, defeating those who fight with nothing to lose is an incredibly difficult endeavor. Robert Greene, in his book “The 33 Strategies of War,” articulates this point clearly: The desperate fighter, facing annihilation, will fight with the force of someone who has nothing left to fear. They can afford to lose battles, but not the war. If you do not understand this psychology, you will always underestimate them. This has already been demonstrated. In 2013, M23 was militarily defeated by the UN’s Force Intervention Brigade (FIB), a well-equipped and internationally supported military coalition. Yet, after eight years, the movement returned with greater resolve, refusing to accept the continued persecution of its people. For over three years, they have withstood a coalition that includes the Congolese army (FARDC), FDLR, South African troops under SADC, Burundian forces, and European mercenaries. The lesson is clear: when people believe their fight is just, no force—no matter how well-armed—can break their spirit. As Napoleon Bonaparte once said, The moral is to the physical as three is to one. A righteous cause strengthens willpower far beyond what military might alone can achieve. The struggle of M23 echoes the struggles of other oppressed peoples in history. When the Jewish resistance fought against Nazi oppression in the Warsaw Ghetto, they were outgunned and outnumbered, yet they fought with extraordinary determination because their survival was at stake. When the Mau Mau rebels in Kenya rose against British colonial rule, they faced brutal suppression but refused to surrender their rightful claim to land and freedom. When Nelson Mandela and the ANC waged their battle against apartheid, they endured decades of imprisonment and violence, yet their cause remained unshaken because it was rooted in justice. The liberation struggle of the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) against the criminal government of Juvenal Habyarimana and later Theodore Sindikubwabo, is another very good example of the might of a just cause. M23’s fight belongs to this lineage of resistance. They are not simply fighting for power; they are fighting for the right to exist as full citizens of the country they call home. The Congolese government, instead of recognizing this, has chosen the path of forced displacement, ethnic discrimination, and military aggression. History sides with those who fight for justice But what SADC fails to grasp is that this war is not a conventional conflict that can be won through sheer firepower. The more pressure is applied, the stronger the resistance becomes. History has shown this time and again. Vietnam did not defeat the United States because it had superior weapons—it prevailed because its fighters knew they were defending their homeland. The Vietnamese, outgunned and outnumbered—overpowered the might of both the French and the Americans because they fought for their survival as free people. The Irish Republican Army (IRA) did not fold under British military campaigns; it endured, because it was fighting for a political cause. Even in Southern Africa, the brutal Rhodesian and apartheid regimes could not stamp out liberation movements despite their superior military might. SADC should ask itself: is it on the right side of history? Is it fighting for regional stability, or is it propping up an unjust system of ethnic oppression? By intervening in Tshisekedi’s war, SADC is not promoting peace—it is prolonging conflict. History offers countless examples of people who have prevailed against overwhelming odds because their cause was just. The Algerians overcame French colonial rule through sheer resilience and a belief in their right to exist as a free people. M23’s struggle is no different. The Congolese Tutsi population has endured decades of persecution, and their fight today is not about power—it is about existence. As Mahatma Gandhi once noted: First they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, then you win. For years, the Congolese government ignored the grievances of these people. Then, it mocked their attempts to claim their rights. Now, it is waging an all-out war against them. But history suggests that no amount of force can erase a cause rooted in justice. The well-known historian Arnold J. Toynbee observed: Civilizations die from suicide, not by murder. The DRC is not collapsing because of M23—it is falling down because its leaders refuse to reconcile with reality. Instead of granting equal rights to all its citizens, the government clings to a fragile, exclusionary nationalism propped up by hate speech and foreign military assistance. But no foreign power can save a state that refuses to govern justly. South Africa’s complicity in Tshisekedi’s brutal war South Africa’s deployment to the DRC was supposedly based on SADC’s Mutual Defense Pact, which calls for regional cooperation against security threats. However, how does fighting alongside FDLR genocidaires—who have a history of committing atrocities, including the 1994 Genocide Against the Tutsi—align with this obligation? By aligning itself with Tshisekedi’s reckless militarism, South Africa is not bringing peace—it is emboldening a leader who refuses to engage in dialogue with his compatriots. M23 is the only armed group in the DRC with known and documented grievances, yet Tshisekedi has chosen to negotiate with every other group—militias without any legitimate cause, criminal gangs, and foreign rebel groups like the FDLR—while stubbornly refusing to address M23’s demands. SADC’s presence has only reinforced Tshisekedi’s intransigence. Knowing that he has regional forces backing him, he has no incentive to seek a political solution. A shameless coalition of mercenaries and genocidaires The world must wake up to the utter absurdity of this conflict. A country with one of the largest armies in Africa, backed by regional forces, mercenaries, and genocidal militias, has spent three years unable to defeat a rebellion of a few thousand men. Yet, instead of questioning why they keep failing, they double down on their brutality. And so, as history watches, a bizarre coalition takes shape: And now, South Africa—home of Nelson Mandela, a symbol of reconciliation—has joined forces with war criminals, hired killers, and the remnants of the 1994 genocidaires. Imagine partnering with European mercenaries with no allegiance, and the FDLR—the same group that committed one of the worst genocides of the 20th century. Imagine a national army share operational plans, coordinate attacks— to the very genocidal forces that have terrorized the region for decades. Is this South Africa’s proud contribution to African peacekeeping? Is this what SADC envisioned—its soldiers being reduced to mercenaries, shielding criminals, and enforcing ethnic exclusion? What a magnificent alliance of heroes. One can only wonder: when South African soldiers take orders from FDLR commanders, do they pause for a moment to reflect? When their artillery provides covering fire for those who orchestrated genocide, do they feel a sense of pride? Or do they march forward blindly, pretending they are still part of a noble cause—when in truth, they are nothing more than foot soldiers in a war against justice itself? History will judge those who stood on the wrong side of justice. The question is: does South Africa want to be counted among them?
