Imagine a man in a tailored suit, sweating profusely as he chases a bus that's long since pulled out of the station. He waves frantically, shouting at the passengers inside—particularly one sitting comfortably, pretending to drive. The man is Belgium’s Vice Prime Minister and Foreign Minister, Maxime Prévot. The bus, in this case, is the shifting geopolitical equation in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) and its complex regional entanglements. And the pseudo-driver, glancing nervously in the rearview mirror, is none other than Félix Tshisekedi, the President of the Democratic Republic of Congo—or, as Belgium might like to think of him, their Minister in Charge of Congolese Affairs. Prévot’s diplomatic safari On April 28, 2025, Belgian Vice Prime Minister and Foreign Minister Maxime Prévot met with DRC President Félix Tshisekedi in Kinshasa as part of a grand regional tour that also took him through Uganda and Burundi. The stated purpose? Contributing to a sustainable resolution to the conflict in eastern Congo. But beneath the polished press statements and photo opportunities, lies a simple truth: Belgium is attempting to assert influence where its credibility has eroded, and where its presence now rings hollow. Among other things, looks like seeking old allies to mediate new realities. Prévot’s diplomatic pilgrimage reads more like a scavenger hunt for relevance than a coherent mission. From Kampala to Bujumbura, he has been collecting political reassurances like autographs at a forgotten fan convention. In Uganda, he reportedly sought President Museveni’s help in restoring Belgium’s broken ties with Rwanda—a request as awkward as it is telling. He earnestly appealed to President Museveni to help him get Rwanda to pick up Belgium’s calls again. Museveni, a master of regional realpolitik, must have smiled inwardly at the irony: the former colonial administrator of Rwanda now asking another African leader to help re-establish contact with Kigali. Yes, the same Rwanda that had already cut off diplomatic ties because Belgium decided it was both judge and party in a conflict it neither fully understands nor controls. From Uganda, Prévot ventured into Burundi, whispering sweet nothings to President Evariste Ndayishimiye, pledging support and solidarity. He pledged support to President Ndayishimiye—more for the latter's alignment with Tshisekedi than for any real concern over Burundian matters. Why? Because Burundi stands with Tshisekedi and, by extension, with Belgium's own proxy interests in the region. That is the price Belgium is willing to pay for access to Kinshasa’s ear: to praise friends of friends, even if the friendships themselves are forged in opportunism and denial. This is not foreign policy. It is a distressed choreography of symbolism, in search of strategic substance. The absurdity would be pathetic if it weren’t so consistent: Belgium, having been sidelined in the regional peace processes, is trying to claw its way back in by leaning on those still willing to indulge its inflated sense of relevance. Back in Kinshasa, Prévot met with not just President Tshisekedi but also his freshly appointed Prime Minister, Judith Suminwa Tuluka, and other senior officials. He echoed the usual lines: Belgium supports DRC’s territorial integrity, condemns Rwandan involvement with M23 rebels, and champions human rights. However, this performance now feels like a broken record playing to an audience that has changed the station. Later met President Tshisekedi, trying to spin a tale of principled intervention. He spoke solemnly about Congo’s “territorial integrity” and the “suffering of the Congolese people.” But his real concern seemed to be the growing discomfort in Brussels over two glaring developments: a) the United States quietly brokering peace and deals between Rwanda and Congo, and b) the Doha ceasefire declaration, which Belgium neither initiated nor influenced. The irony is thick: Belgium is worried that DRC is sitting comfortably in a bus driven by interests it disapproves of—especially the growing U.S.-Rwanda mineral cooperation. Yet Belgium fails to realize it was never even invited on this leg of the journey. Once seen as a mediator, Belgium is now viewed by Kigali as partial, even toxic, for its overt bias and for championing EU sanctions against Rwanda without broad consensus. Rwanda has cut diplomatic ties, making Belgium unfit to mediate. Still, Prévot insists Belgium can help from the sidelines—as if clapping for peace from the bleachers could stop a war on the pitch. It's the diplomat’s equivalent of texting an ex after being blocked: pitiable and ineffectual. He assured Congolese and Belgian journalists alike that Brussels isn’t trying to posture or stroke egos. But everything about this trip screamed otherwise. When Rwanda shut the diplomatic door, Belgium kept knocking, even going around to the neighbors hoping someone else might let them in. Even more revealing was Belgium’s reaction to the quiet thaw in DRC-Rwanda relations. Despite the public hostility, Kinshasa has entered into agreements with Kigali—like the one to refine Congolese minerals in Rwanda—because, let’s face it, geopolitics is less about emotions and more about transactions. The U.S. knows this. Belgium, it seems, does not. Meanwhile, internal criticism of Tshisekedi's government grows louder. Belgian media, perhaps unintentionally, revealed the farcical state of governance in the DRC. Congolese public finance experts have exposed the rot: embezzled public funds, inflated development contracts. One expert revealed that not a single investment project under Tshisekedi has succeeded. Allegations that the president personally pockets one million euros annually have surfaced, yet he welcomes international envoys with moral lectures instead of action. Banks have reportedly been non-functional for months, forcing civil servants to pay bribes just to access their own salaries. This is the state Belgium is defending. Prévot, to his credit, brought up these issues in his meeting with Tshisekedi. He spoke of reforms, justice, and accountability. But one can’t help but sense the hollowness of such appeals when Belgium continues to act like a protective parent to a grown child who refuses to clean his room—or balance his budget. But beyond the incompetence and corruption lies a deeper reality: the DRC is a country run not from Kinshasa but from Brussels. Tshisekedi may carry the title of president, but his office increasingly resembles a colonial outpost, taking calls from the Belgian capital and parroting the same talking points Belgium would like the world to hear. On key issues of peace, minerals, or diplomacy, Tshisekedi does not lead—he complies. He repeats. Too late or lost In this charade, Belgium has not relinquished control; it has simply modernized its colonial instruments. Where once there were military commanders and rubber quotas, there are now ‘development partners,’ press conferences, and highly choreographed diplomatic tours. The orders still come from the same place, only now they’re written in the language of international cooperation. Let us not be fooled. Congo is not an independent driver; it's more like a bus on autopilot, remote-controlled from Brussels via the Bluetooth headset on Tshisekedi’s ear. With every declaration of sovereignty, Belgium is right there to clarify what that sovereignty should look like. Maxime Prévot may claim Belgium no longer wants to mediate, but it surely wants to dictate. The sad truth is that the DRC is not leading its own peace process, its mineral policy, or even its diplomacy. That role seems increasingly outsourced—to Belgium when possible, to the U.S. when strategic, and to Qatar when convenient. Tshisekedi's role, in this whole drama, resembles less a head of state and more a well-compensated regional manager reporting back to headquarters. As Prévot’s diplomatic bus ride ends, one thing is clear: Belgium might not be in the driver’s seat anymore, but it still insists on choosing the route. And as long as Tshisekedi obliges, the DRC will remain a backseat passenger—pretending to steer, while Brussels navigates from afar. But if Belgium is the passenger who missed the bus, the DRC is the rider who refuses to admit someone else is steering. President Tshisekedi presents himself as a commander-in-chief, yet his control over eastern Congo is more illusion than reality. The recent Doha ceasefire and U.S.-brokered agreements with Rwanda show that the actual gears of peace are being driven not by Kinshasa, but by external powers and regional actors. Meanwhile, in this crumbling edifice, Belgium is banging on the windows, urging reforms, demanding accountability. But to what end? Belgium is busy playing principle but effectively losing Influence. Prévot claims Belgium is acting from principle—not ego, not geopolitics. Yet his country’s principled stance has yielded zero results. Rwanda has tuned them out. Uganda indulges them but commits to nothing. Burundi accepts praise but gives only polite nods. The DRC, meanwhile, is using Belgium’s support as international cover while deepening dysfunction at home and signing pragmatic deals with those Belgium opposes. The most damning evidence of Belgium’s irrelevance is not that Kigali ignores it, but that Kinshasa barely needs it. In this fractured reality, Belgium is like a person handing out traffic rules while others are building highways. Its insistence on sticking to “the principle of territorial integrity” while Congo’s own elite are pillaging the state is diplomatic theater. In the end, Prévot’s regional tour reveals more about Belgium’s longing for a bygone role than it does about the present needs of the region. Once the self-appointed steward of Central Africa, Belgium now finds itself clutching old maps, trying to steer from the backseat of a vehicle it no longer owns, drives, or even understands. The bus has moved on. Rwanda is reshaping mineral supply chains with U.S. backing. Uganda remains quietly powerful and calculating. Burundi is hedging its bets. And the DRC, drunk on victimhood and external blame, is happy to entertain Belgium’s sympathy while refusing to reform. Perhaps Belgium should stop running after the bus and take the time to learn where it's going. Because for now, its efforts amount to little more than diplomatic nostalgia in a world that has outgrown colonial hangovers. Congo has become a client state masquerading as a sovereign republic, and its so-called leader a glorified envoy of Belgian interests. Perhaps it’s time we all stop calling him President of the Democratic Republic of Congo and use the more accurate title: Minister of Congolese Affairs (Brussels Branch). If anyone still believes Tshisekedi governs for the Congolese, let them explain why the loudest applause he receives comes not from Goma or Bukavu but from air-conditioned rooms in Brussels.
