In the previous issue, I examined how the United Nations Operation in the Congo (ONUC) was deployed in 1960 to stabilise the newly independent, fracturing country. Decades later, on July 1, 2010, UN Security Council Resolution 1925 renamed the mission for a second time, from MONUC to MONUSCO. In 1960, the UN identified a dual pathology behind the DR Congo's political malaise: the primary disease was Belgian military occupation, with a secondary symptom of total administrative paralysis. Moving away from the non-metaphorical approach of my earlier piece, Seeing MONUSCO Through Its Actions, Not Stated Intentions, this article frames the crisis in medical metaphor, examining the disease afflicting the country in 2010 and positioning MONUSCO as the UN's proposed cure. Mirroring ONUC, MONUSCO's dual mandate was to neutralize armed groups, restore state authority, and protect civilians. In medical terms, the armed forces were the primary disease, while civilian insecurity was the secondary symptom. As with ONUC, curing the primary disease would inevitably eliminate the secondary ailment. Like its predecessor, MONUSCO deeply eroded local trust, dealing a devastating blow to its own mission. It collaborated with the FDLR, eastern Congo's most dangerous militia, founded by extremists who fled Rwanda after the 1994 genocide against the Tutsi. This mirrored ONUC's collaboration with the very Belgian forces it was deployed to expel. MONUSCO may deny collaborating with the FDLR, much like ONUC disavowed involvement with Belgian forces in the elimination of Patrice Lumumba. Yet evidence on the ground tells a different story. When MONUSCO began operations in 2010, its mission was to neutralize 70 armed groups active in eastern DR Congo. Critics argue that its partnership with the FDLR backfired completely, resulting in the proliferation of 130 armed groups by 2020. Within this metaphor, MONUSCO's partnership with the FDLR mirrors ONUC's alliance with Belgian troops. Both missions compromised the very entities they were mandated to neutralize. This betrayal served as the lethal dose that killed Patrice Lumumba and ignited the chaos of the 1960s. Now it drives the proliferation of armed groups in eastern DR Congo, making it impossible to heal the nation's deep-rooted diseases. The UN excels at diagnosing the illness and prescribing the right medicine on paper. Yet once troops deploy, their actions on the ground often end up doing the exact opposite of what New York prescribed. When a physician intentionally replaces a patient's prescription with something deadly, it stops being malpractice and becomes a criminal act deserving incarceration. Regardless of who leads MONUSCO in Kinshasa, the outcome for the DR Congo has remained devastatingly the same. From its roots under Ralph Bunche to its current mandate under James Swan, including the tenures of Martin Kobler and Bintou Keita, the organization has effectively poisoned its patient. Aside from isolated successes, such as its help repatriating some FDLR fighters, MONUSCO's overall legacy has been deeply destructive. Why keep the UN's largest mission ever, when peace will never come to the DR Congo under an organization that hinders rather than helps peace efforts? This raises the question of whether its $1.5 billion annual budget serves funding nations more than the local population. Expecting a fragile, conflict-worn nation to defend itself unaided is like demanding a bedridden patient reject their doctor's medicine. The DR Congo cannot stand alone; it needs unified African solidarity. The country sits at the literal and metaphorical heart of Africa. If this vital center remains vulnerable to imperialist manipulation, true progress will remain out of reach for the entire continent. The writer is a media specialist, historian, and playwright
