There is something almost admirable about the sheer audacity with which the Democratic Republic of Congo's leadership and media have woven an impenetrable cocoon of self-deception. Like a tragic Shakespearean character, they recite their lines with conviction, believing that blaming Rwanda for their misfortunes is both a political strategy and an economic policy. It is a striking performance, complete with a loyal audience, applauding enthusiastically, ignoring the broken stage beneath their feet. At the heart of this spectacle lies a form of cognitive dissonance so profound that it would have fascinated Leon Festinger, the social psychologist who developed the theory. In his book A Theory of Cognitive Dissonance (1957), Festinger explained how people struggle to reconcile conflicting beliefs with reality, often choosing to distort facts rather than confront uncomfortable truths. In the DR Congo’s case, the belief that Rwanda is stealing our minerals exists alongside the undeniable evidence of internal dysfunction: vast mineral wealth yet crushing poverty, fertile lands yet persistent food shortages, and decades of foreign investment yet no meaningful infrastructure. But rather than addressing these contradictions, the nation’s leadership and its most vocal propagandists cling to the comforting delusion that Rwanda must be the problem. The absurdity of this narrative was highlighted in a recent conversation between two Congolese visitors to Rwanda. One, stunned by the rapid development of the geographically small nation, couldn’t help but comment, “This country is developing progressively.” The other, a little less impressed but more grounded in his own narrative, responded, “It’s our resources, but well-managed.” His companion raised an eyebrow, “If it is our resources, our country should be more developed than Rwanda. We have incomparably more—fertile land, forests, and minerals. Everything you could imagine.” The friend shrugged, half-amused, half-disappointed. “You’re right. But that’s what we’re told by politicians and the media.” This exchange, simple as it may seem, encapsulates the root of a far deeper issue that plagues not only the Congo but the entire Great Lakes region: the insidious nature of scapegoating and self-deception. For years, the DRC leadership has fostered a narrative that blames Rwanda for stealing its minerals, using the ploy as a convenient scapegoat to deflect attention from its internal dysfunctions. To anyone who has closely observed the situation, this narrative is a blatant falsehood—an insult to anyone who believes in evidence, reason, or reality. However, it’s a lie that many have bought into, and it is time to pull the curtain back on this poignant farce. A nation with abundant resources, yet stark poverty The irony is hard to miss: the DR Congo is rich in natural resources—minerals, fertile land, forests, and rivers that could transform it into one of the richest nations on the planet. And yet, it remains a country of crushing poverty. Why is this the case? Why is it that, despite its wealth, the DR Congo’s infrastructure is a wreck, its people live in squalor, and its potential is forever out of reach? Here we see the Congo’s great paradox. The resources are abundant, but development is non-existent. The truth is clear, but the lies are comforting. Jean-Paul Sartre, in Being and Nothingness (1943), called this phenomenon bad faith—when individuals deceive themselves to avoid facing truths that would force them to change their beliefs and actions. Let’s address the elephant in the room: The problem is not external. The problem is not Rwanda. The problem is internal. The Congolese elite, rather than admitting that decades of corruption, poor governance, and internal conflicts are the real culprits, instead engage in an elaborate dance of self-deception, convincing themselves that blaming Rwanda is a valid substitute for actual governance. There are disastrous consequences of ignoring the reality that the country must first heal itself before it can make any meaningful strides toward prosperity. When Congolese leaders blame Rwanda for their failures, they are willfully blind to the very forces that keep their country in a perpetual state of underdevelopment. Leon Festinger, the psychologist behind the theory of cognitive dissonance, describes it as the mental discomfort that results from holding two contradictory beliefs. This perfectly explains the DR Congo’s predicament. On one hand, Congolese politicians insist that their country is rich in resources and should be prosperous. On the other hand, they see its extreme poverty and dysfunction. Instead of resolving this contradiction by acknowledging their own governance failures, they choose an easier route: blaming Rwanda. Festinger warned that when people face information that contradicts their beliefs, they often “invent new narratives to protect their worldview rather than change their minds.” As one Congolese observer put it while reflecting on the contrast between Rwanda and the DR Congo, “Having huge fertile land and yet importing food is oxymoronic. Having a lot of minerals and no roads linking up the country is a serious issue that is not addressed at all.” This is a perfect case of what Friedrich Nietzsche described as “the lie that allows one to live”—the kind of falsehoods societies tell themselves to avoid confronting painful truths. Instead of acknowledging that mismanagement and corruption are the real culprits, Congolese leaders have fed their people a soothing but dangerous lie: “It’s all Rwanda’s fault.” In 1997, I visited Mbujimayi, a city with 2 million residents at the time, yet with no petrol stations despite being home to the largest diamond mining company in the region. This plain contradiction should be a national scandal, but it is one that has been ignored for decades. This is not the result of Rwanda’s influence or involvement—it is a direct consequence of poor governance and an inability to translate resources into meaningful economic infrastructure. The cult of self-deception There is a dangerous and insidious phenomenon in the DRC: the cult of self-deception. The ruling class has created a narrative where external forces, most notably Rwanda, are blamed for every failure. It is a narrative that serves their purposes, but one that does not acknowledge the reality that the DRC’s most significant obstacles are self-imposed. Congolese propagandists have created a new slogan: BÉTON! —meaning “reinforced concrete”—as a way of flattering President Tshisekedi into believing in his own infallibility. This constant flood of praise is not only laughable but dangerous. Friedrich Nietzsche, in Beyond Good and Evil (1886), warned that “the most common lie is the lie one tells oneself.” And Tshisekedi, surrounded by an echo chamber of sycophants, has become the prime victim of such lies. The BÉTON delusion has taken various ridiculous forms. There were the so-called “deterrent marches” in Kinshasa, where FARDC soldiers, puffed up with bravado, flexed their biceps before Kinshasa residents who had never even seen the front lines. Then came the absurd promise to strike Kigali without even deploying troops—just chanting BÉTON was supposedly enough to defeat an enemy. George Orwell, in 1984, warned about doublethink, the act of accepting two contradictory ideas simultaneously. Tshisekedi’s administration embodies this concept. On one hand, they declare that the DRC is a great and powerful country. On the other, they justify its failures by blaming an allegedly small and resource-starved neighbor. It is a contradiction that should not exist, yet it is embraced unquestioningly. As Orwell put it: “The more a society drifts from the truth, the more it will hate those who speak it.” Anyone in the DRC who questions the absurdity of blaming Rwanda is quickly labeled a traitor or an enemy of the state. The failure of BÉTON and the need for real change The infamous “deterrent marches” in Kinshasa—where the FARDC soldiers flexed their muscles, chanting “BÉTON!”—were an exercise in delusion. The reality of war was never faced; instead, an imaginary victory over Rwanda was promised. And, just as in the “Skirmish Period,” where the government boasted about its supposed power to strike Kigali, the result was yet another embarrassing failure. Still, no introspection, no reflection, and no acknowledgment of the flaws in strategy followed. Instead, the chorus of “BÉTON!” rang louder, drowning out any hope for self-improvement. Jean-Paul Sartre, in his discussion of bad faith, described this phenomenon perfectly: “A man is in bad faith when he tries to escape the responsibility of freedom by lying to himself.” This is precisely what the DRC leadership has done—choosing self-deception over responsibility. When the M23 rebels humiliated the Congolese army and its allies and mercenaries in Goma, the blame was predictably shifted: “We are infiltrated.” “He inherited a complex situation.” “It’s all Kabila’s fault.” “The people in the East are complicit.” Never, not once, is there any serious introspection about why these failures keep occurring. It is always someone else's fault, always an external conspiracy, never a hard look in the mirror. George Orwell, in Nineteen Eighty-Four (1949), described this kind of thinking as doublethink—the ability to hold two contradictory beliefs at the same time and accept both as true. In this case, the DR Congo’s leadership and its propagandists hold onto two mutually exclusive ideas: that the country is rich and powerful, yet poor and weak. But never, not once, has there been a real attempt to look at the root causes—like the refusal to invest in roads, infrastructure, or education. The tragedy of self-delusion No nation has ever developed by engaging in self-pity and scapegoating. James Baldwin, in The Fire Next Time (1962), wrote, “Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.” The DRC refuses to face its real problems: weak institutions, corrupt leaders, and an army more accustomed to looting its own citizens than fighting actual enemies. The truth is, Rwanda is not the cause of Congo’s poverty. Rwanda is simply the proof that good governance and strategic planning can transform a nation. The DRC has more resources than Rwanda could ever dream of, yet it remains crippled by incompetence. It is not Rwanda that prevents Congolese farmers from utilizing their fertile land. It is not Rwanda that forces Congolese to import basic food despite sitting on millions of hectares of arable land. It is not Rwanda that prevents roads from being built, despite billions of dollars flowing into the treasury from mineral exports. And yet, the BÉTON mentality persists. Tshisekedi, rather than fixing roads, hospitals, and schools, is busy making bombastic speeches about “striking Rwanda.” His advisors, rather than challenging him, only chant louder: BÉTON! And the masses, rather than demanding accountability, are encouraged to direct their anger toward a country they barely understand. If the DRC is ever to break free from this cycle, it must abandon the comforting lies and face the harsh reality. It must stop indulging in the lazy scapegoating of Rwanda and recognize that its problems are internal. It must embrace hard work over slogans, accountability over blame, and competence over propaganda. Otherwise, the great Congolese tragedy will continue. The world will move forward, nations will develop, and the DRC will remain trapped in its own illusions, chanting BÉTON! while the very foundations of its house crumble beneath its feet. A nation singing BÉTON while standing in quicksand And so, the grand spectacle continues. The Democratic Republic of Congo, a land of immeasurable wealth and boundless potential, chooses to dance on the stage of self-deception, chanting BÉTON! as if the mere act of shouting the word will turn crumbling mud huts into skyscrapers, pothole-ridden dirt paths into highways, and phantom military victories into real ones. It is a nation that worships illusions, kneels before excuses, and prays at the altar of scapegoating, hoping that divine intervention—or perhaps just another press conference—will magically make Rwanda the root of all its problems. One must admire the audacity of the performance. In Kinshasa, government officials sip imported wine in their air-conditioned offices, drafting new speeches about Rwanda’s “plundering” while ignoring the fact that the DR Congo, with its endless forests and rivers, cannot even supply clean drinking water to its people. One wonders: when a Congolese baby dies of malnutrition in a province with soil so fertile that anything could grow, is it also Rwanda’s fault? It is a strange magic indeed, this BÉTON spell. It transforms utter failure into victory, turns war crimes into “heroic resistance,” and allows a leader like Tshisekedi—who presides over collapsing institutions and a disintegrating economy—to strut about as if he were Julius Caesar, conquering nations with his words alone. This is the BÉTON philosophy: to do nothing, to fail at everything, but to speak so loudly that reality itself might be bullied into submission. But reality, like history, does not care for slogans. Reality is not swayed by propaganda. It does not care how many tweets, speeches, or marches are organized in Kinshasa. Reality is that the DRC is rich and yet its people are poor. Reality is that blaming Rwanda has done nothing to build roads, create jobs, or stop armed groups from terrorizing Congolese citizens. Reality is that nations do not develop through conspiracy theories, but through leadership, accountability, and action. Still, the show must go on. The BÉTON choir will continue singing, the ministers will keep inventing new excuses, and the propagandists will churn out more dramatic headlines about Rwanda’s supposed schemes. And the people? The people will keep suffering. The East will keep burning. The wealth will keep disappearing into offshore bank accounts. And one day—perhaps sooner than they think—the music will stop, the audience will walk away, and the great illusion will shatter. And when that day comes, the DRC and its allies like Belgium and others who consumed the poison of blaming Rwanda for everything wrong in the poorest rich country— will finally have to answer the one question they have spent decades avoiding: What do you do when you can no longer blame Rwanda?
