Saturday, March 1, marked a historic day for Rwanda, though its full significance may not yet have been fully grasped by all. It began as an ordinary day. Rwandans went about their usual routines: many in the private sector headed to work, others flocked to markets for their weekly shopping, while some relaxed at home. In Kigali, crowds gathered along the streets to watch the Tour du Rwanda cycling race. Everything seemed normal—until the big news started spreading like wildfire via short videos on social media. At the La Corniche border post between Rubavu and Goma, a high-ranking FDLR commander, Brig. Gen. Ezekiel Gakwerere, along with thirteen of his subordinates, was handed over to Rwandan security authorities. The fighters had been captured by the M23 liberation force. Video footage showed Gakwerere, a 60-year-old man with graying hair, looking dazed and subdued in defeat. Clad in Congolese army (FARDC) fatigues, he shuffled forward, followed by his equally defeated-looking men. The images were highly symbolic. This was the FDLR—a group that, under President Tshisekedi’s administration, had been fully integrated into the Congolese military as a “strategic ally” in Kinshasa’s broader plot to destabilize Rwanda. Gakwerere was no ordinary warlord. He played a direct role in the 1994 genocide against the Tutsi, including the brutal murder of Rosalie Gicanda, the widow of King Mutara III Rudahigwa. A former member of the ex-FAR, the genocidal forces that fled to Zaire (now the DR Congo) after the genocide, he eventually became part of the FDLR. Now, he and his forces have suffered another defeat—perhaps their final one. March 1 was undoubtedly one of the darkest days for the FDLR, a group notorious for its long history of terrorist attacks. Among their many atrocities was the 1999 massacre of eight tourists in Uganda’s Bwindi Impenetrable Forest, the 2019 attack on a village in Kinigi that left 14 people dead, and the 2021 murder of Italian Ambassador Luca Attanasio near Goma. Yet, the sight of Gakwerere and his henchmen, unarmed and being subjected to body searches by Rwanda Police and Rwanda Defense Force personnel, signaled a major shift. The FDLR’s reign of terror in eastern DR Congo is unraveling—this time, seemingly for good. Unlike in the past, when the FDLR was repelled by the Rwanda Defense Force (RDF) but managed to regroup under Congolese government protection, this time, the dynamics in the Kivus have changed. The group can no longer rely on its usual safe havens. For years, under the protection of Kinshasa and in alliance with FARDC, the FDLR committed massacres, rapes, and unspeakable atrocities against the region’s Tutsi pastoralist communities—part of a broader genocidal campaign to eradicate them. This campaign was supported not only by Congolese authorities but also by militias like Wazalendo and Burundian troops acting under the orders of President Évariste Ndayishimiye, who shares Tshisekedi’s anti-Tutsi ideology. Adding to this web of complicity is the UN peacekeeping mission, MONUSCO—an outfit riddled with corruption, notorious for failing to keep the peace, and frequently accused of involvement in illicit mineral trade. However, the recent shift in the balance of power has sent shockwaves through the ranks of not only the FDLR but also the Tshisekedi regime and its European allies—especially Belgium, the former colonial power. The defeat of Tshisekedi’s coalition forces in Goma, followed by the liberation of Bukavu, has disrupted the status quo. Many who benefited from the chaos—whether in Kinshasa or abroad—are now in disarray. The root of this conflict has always been Tshisekedi’s policy of expelling or exterminating Congo’s Tutsi communities from their ancestral lands, based on the baseless claim that they are “foreigners.” Belgium, much like former French President François Mitterrand—who infamously downplayed genocides in Africa—seems unbothered by this blatant ethnic cleansing. Brussels has consistently championed Tshisekedi’s propaganda on the global stage while remaining silent on his crimes. Other European powers, including Britain, have also chosen to ignore these atrocities despite their usual human rights rhetoric. But things have changed. After the AFC-M23 drove Tshisekedi’s forces out of their ancestral lands, Kinshasa and its allies responded with fury—not because of a genuine concern for peace, but because their ability to exploit the region’s instability had been upended. They resorted to sanctions, but these will not undo the military losses. One undeniable truth remains: the FDLR’s days are numbered. Without a stronghold in the Kivus and without Tshisekedi’s patronage, the group is fast becoming irrelevant. With no more Tutsi communities to terrorize, no more villages to burn, and no more plunder to sustain them, the FDLR is now a liability—even to Tshisekedi himself. Some remnants may still be hiding in the jungles, capable of sporadic attacks, but their capacity for sustained terror has been fatally compromised. This marks the beginning of the end of their reign of terror.
