For decades, Rwanda has been accused—sometimes subtly, often bluntly—of being in DR Congo for land, gold, or influence. The accusation has become so familiar that it is now almost reflexive, repeated by international commentators and, increasingly, by African voices seeking validation on global stages. But repetition does not make it true; it only comforts those who benefit from simplified narratives. ALSO READ: Writing Rwanda’s future: Reflections on Umushyikirano 20 The uncomfortable truth is: Rwanda’s engagement with eastern DR Congo has always been rooted first and foremost in security. Armed groups operating across the border, particularly FDLR, include criminals responsible for the 1994 Genocide against the Tutsi in Rwanda. These groups did not vanish with the signing of peace agreements or the arrival of UN peacekeepers. They regrouped, rearmed, recruited, and embedded themselves in the instability of eastern DR Congo. This is not rhetoric; it is documented history. ALSO READ: Why genocide ideology doesn’t dissolve three decades after dispersion of genocidaires Rwanda does not speak about these threats from imagination, but from experience; experience shaped by the 1994 genocide in which over a million people were killed while the world debated terminology and timelines. When we hear dismissals today, when we are told to “trust international mechanisms,” history makes such trust difficult. ALSO READ: Rwanda's defensive measures to remain 'until FDLR threat is gone' At this year’s Umushyikirano, President Paul Kagame spoke about dignity, a word that carries moral weight but is often absent from international diplomacy. Dignity is the refusal to accept permanent vulnerability. When Rwanda insists on its right to security, it is asserting dignity. Eastern DR Congo is rich in minerals. This much is true, but minerals do not explain three decades of instability, failed peace processes, and displaced populations. To claim that Rwanda’s involvement is driven primarily by economic greed is to avoid confronting the real crisis: the failure to dismantle genocidal armed groups and establish lasting security. The mineral narrative is convenient, digestible, and absolves deeper responsibility. The hypocrisy of selective morality What disturbs me deeply is not only the accusations from outside Africa, but the enthusiasm with which some African commentators echo them. When African journalists stand before international audiences and accuse Rwanda without nuance, context, or historical memory, it raises difficult questions. Whose interests are being served? When did repeating Western talking points become evidence of African credibility? George Orwell’s Animal Farm warned us: “All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.” Today, this is not literature, it is lived policy. African nations are told: comply, align, stay quiet. Speak out, and sanctions will follow; not for leaders, but for citizens. Funding will be withdrawn from health systems, schools, and livelihoods, all in the name of “human rights.” Global powers intervene militarily across borders with striking ease. They topple governments, occupy territories, and redefine sovereignty under the banners of democracy or national security. These actions are debated, occasionally criticized, but seldom delegitimized outright. But when Rwanda acts to protect its citizens, the narrative changes. It is framed as aggression, interference, even criminality. Why is sovereignty respected for some, but denied to others? Perhaps the real discomfort lies not in Rwanda’s actions, but in its independence. When an African leader governs with proximity to his people; when women are given voice, youth are empowered, institutions are strengthened, and accountability is demanded, the narrative changes. Suddenly, leadership becomes suspicious, progress becomes dangerous. A leader who understands what it means to be one of the people becomes a threat, his legitimacy is questioned, his life is threatened, his nation is isolated. As I write this, I think of my children. I think of how casually powerful nations treat African stability as a policy lever, rather than as human life. I think of how decisions made in distant capitals ripple into kitchens like mine. This is why dignity matters. This is why Rwanda refuses to be lectured into vulnerability. Rwanda’s engagement with eastern DR Congo is not conquest; it is survival. It is the consequence of a world that failed it and now asks Rwanda to trust without accountability. When will Africa rise above borrowed thinking? When will we stop mistaking alignment with power for wisdom? When will we defend complexity instead of rewarding simplistic narratives that flatter foreign interests? Rwanda does not ask for silence. It asks for fairness, and for honesty. It is asking that Africa speaks for itself, before others continue speaking over us. Dignity, once understood, cannot be surrendered. Mutesi Gasana is a publisher and author.
