In the heart of Africa, the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) has once again become a stage for international diplomacy, high-stakes resource politics, and devastating conflict. On June 27, 2025, a much-heralded peace agreement was signed between the DRC and Rwanda in Washington, D.C., with American officials and President Donald Trump himself touting it as a breakthrough for the war-torn region. Yet, on the ground in eastern Congo, the reality remains grim: the guns have not fallen silent, and the suffering continues unabated.
The peace deal, brokered by U.S. mediators, was designed to end years of violence fueled by the Rwanda-backed M23 rebel group, which swept through key cities like Goma and Bukavu at the start of 2025. According to BBC and Zeenews, this offensive displaced more than one million people in the Ituri, North Kivu, and South Kivu provinces, compounding an already dire humanitarian crisis. As of late September 2025, the United Nations estimates 6.7 million Congolese are internally displaced, with another 1.1 million living as refugees abroad. The World Food Programme has warned that 28 million people are in urgent need of aid, and 4.75 million children face severe malnutrition.
Despite the high-profile signing ceremony in Washington, President Félix Tshisekedi of the DRC admitted on September 24, 2025, that the deal has yet to bring calm to eastern Congo. "It does not mean that we will auction our mineral resources," Tshisekedi told reporters in New York, emphasizing that while Congo is open to partnerships, its vast mineral wealth is not up for grabs. He thanked President Trump for his mediation efforts but made clear that the country's sovereignty over its resources remains non-negotiable.
The DRC is, after all, sitting atop an estimated $24 trillion in untapped mineral resources—including cobalt, coltan, gold, tin, tungsten, copper, and lithium. These minerals are essential to the global technology supply chain, powering everything from smartphones to electric vehicles. The peace agreement, described by critics as "a mineral deal first, an opportunity for peace second" (New Internationalist), includes provisions for the disarmament of armed groups, the eventual withdrawal of Rwandan soldiers from eastern Congo, and the expansion of foreign trade and investment—particularly in the mineral sector.
Yet, for many Congolese and international observers, the deal smacks of exploitation rather than genuine reconciliation. As Zeenews reports, President Trump boasted that the agreement would allow America to secure "a lot of the mineral rights from the Congo." This frank admission has fueled suspicions that the U.S. and other foreign powers are more interested in Congo's mineral riches than in ending the bloodshed. "Throughout the DRC’s history, empires and imperial powers have vied directly or indirectly for unfettered access to the Congo’s resources," the New Internationalist reminds readers, noting that previous peace processes—from Luanda to Dar es Salaam to Qatar—have failed to bring lasting stability.
Meanwhile, the violence rages on. UN investigators documented a litany of horrors between January and July 2025: summary executions, disappearances, torture, and rape across North and South Kivu. In Rutshuru, one of the deadliest attacks since M23’s resurgence saw hundreds of civilians hacked to death with machetes by M23 fighters allegedly backed by Rwandan soldiers. Volker Türk, the UN human rights chief, told delegates that victims had been "beaten, suffocated and starved to death." Human Rights Watch echoed these findings, describing mass killings near Virunga National Park.
The M23 group, which claims to defend the region’s Tutsi minority, denies attacks on civilians and insists that accusations are fabrications by Kinshasa and its allies. Rwanda, for its part, has long denied supporting M23, asserting that its forces act solely in self-defense. However, Congolese officials say the success of the peace deal hinges on Rwanda ceasing all support for the rebel group—something President Tshisekedi says has not yet happened. "(Rwanda) pretended to withdraw their troops, but actually, they are increasing their support to M23," he asserted.
On the rebel side, Corneille Nangaa, a former election official turned leader of the Alliance Fleuve Congo (AFC), has openly declared his coalition’s goal: to march on Kinshasa and overthrow President Tshisekedi, whom he calls "illegitimate and corrupt." The AFC, with M23 as its military backbone, was not included in the Washington talks, further undermining the deal’s legitimacy in the eyes of many Congolese. Nangaa scoffed at Western claims of peace, warning that any agreement signed in the Oval Office without addressing Congo’s real problems—corruption, ethnic division, and bad governance—was "meaningless." He insisted, "The minerals belong to the Congolese people, not to Tshisekedi or Washington."
Diplomatic efforts have continued on multiple fronts. In March 2025, Qatar brokered a surprise meeting between Tshisekedi and Rwanda’s President Paul Kagame, resulting in a call for a ceasefire and direct talks with M23. However, an August 18 deadline for a comprehensive peace agreement was missed. M23 has demanded the release of prisoners before talks can advance, while the Congolese government insists that such a gesture can only follow a signed agreement. Tshisekedi has indicated some progress, noting, "As a matter of fact, we are waiting for the Red Cross to give us a go-ahead to proceed with the exchange of prisoners."
Despite these diplomatic maneuvers, the humanitarian situation has only worsened. With USAID cutting $6 billion in aid, clinics have run out of rape kits for survivors of sexual violence, and humanitarian groups have been forced to scale back operations. Doctors Without Borders treated more than 7,400 survivors of sexual violence between January and April alone. Camps for the displaced have been dismantled, and families have been sent back to devastated villages, often with nothing left to return to.
The DRC has also sought to diversify its international partnerships. Tshisekedi revealed that Congo has a strategic partnership with China and is negotiating a similar arrangement with the United States, with hopes of completing it soon. "We will, as part of this partnership, be working in the development of the mining sectors, developing the value chain, developing infrastructure with a particular emphasis on energy," he said. But details remain scarce, and many Congolese remain wary of foreign promises.
As the dust settles on the so-called peace deal, one thing is clear: for millions of Congolese, the war is not in Washington but in Goma, Bukavu, Rutshuru, and countless villages scattered across the east. The international community may congratulate itself, but for those living through the conflict, the peace agreement remains little more than "another piece of paper soaked in blood."
For the people of Congo, true peace will require not just the absence of gunfire, but justice, accountability, and a commitment to putting lives ahead of minerals. Until then, the wounds—like the scars on the land—will never fully disappear.