On December 4, 2025, an air of anticipation and skepticism filled the halls of the newly renamed Donald J. Trump Institute of Peace in Washington, D.C. The occasion? A US-brokered peace agreement between the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) and Rwanda, signed by Presidents Felix Tshisekedi and Paul Kagame, with US President Donald Trump presiding over the ceremony. Trump hailed the event as "a great day for Africa, a great day for the world," but as the ink dried, the realities on the ground told a far more complicated story.
The peace deal, which aims to end decades of conflict in eastern DRC and open the region’s vast mineral resources to US companies, was touted as a historic breakthrough by the White House. Trump, never one to shy away from dramatics, declared, "They spent a lot of time killing each other. And now they're going to spend a lot of time hugging, holding hands and taking advantage of the United States of America economically like every other country does." He didn’t mince words about the economic motivations behind the accord, adding, "We're going to take out some of the rare earth. Everybody's going to make a lot of money." According to China Daily, Trump also announced new bilateral agreements that would allow major US companies access to critical minerals vital for manufacturing fighter jets, smartphones, and more.
But even as diplomats celebrated in Washington, the situation in eastern Congo remained dire. Fighting between the DRC military and the M23 rebel group, who have resurged since late 2021, raged on December 5—just one day after the deal was signed. Goma, a city of around 2 million and a key regional hub, stayed under rebel control. Its international airport was shuttered, banks remained closed, crime soared, and the prices of everyday goods climbed sharply. For many residents, the peace deal felt distant, if not irrelevant.
"We are still at war," said Amani Chibalonza Edith, a 32-year-old Goma resident, in remarks reported by the Associated Press. "There can be no peace as long as the front lines remain active." Moise Bauma, a 27-year-old student in rebel-held Bukavu, echoed the uncertainty: "We are waiting to see what will happen because so far, both sides continue to clash and attack each other." Samson Alimasi, from Kamanyola near the Rwandan and Burundian borders, added, "Yesterday, we saw that agreements were signed, but we don't see any positive impact on this situation, and that worries us. We only see bombs falling without knowing which side they are coming from."
The roots of this conflict are tangled in a long, painful history, stretching back to colonial-era policies that drove a wedge between Hutu and Tutsi populations. These divisions contributed to the catastrophic 1994 Rwandan genocide and have fueled cycles of violence ever since. The current crisis is further compounded by the strategic importance of eastern Congo’s mineral wealth—cobalt, lithium, and coltan—resources now coveted by global powers and essential for next-generation technologies.
At the ceremony, the absence of a handshake between Kagame and Tshisekedi spoke volumes. According to DW, the two leaders barely exchanged glances, a visible sign of lingering mistrust. Rwandan observer Ildephonse Sinabubariraga remarked, "They call it a wonderful step, but I'm reluctant to use that word. I fear the implementation. Even when you see President Tshisekedi, his reactions, he was not so confident about the signing. It's like he's being forced." Rwandan citizen Marie-Louise Uwizeyimana added, "The presidents of both countries did not shake hands. That is very bad for the signing of the peace deal. As a citizen who is living in this region, it shows that there is no peace yet."
Despite the somber mood, Congolese Foreign Minister Therese Kayikwamba struck a note of cautious optimism. "Our President has been very transparent about the principles that will be guiding the agreement," she told DW, describing the Washington accord as part of a series of diplomatic milestones. "Do the Congolese people stand behind it? I believe so, because this is our pathway to long-lasting peace and peaceful cohabitation with our neighbors," she said, while admitting, "Does this mean that all of the expectations are reflected in the instruments as they exist? Probably not… but it is important to emphasize that this agreement is bringing us closer to peace and accountability."
Yet, for many Congolese civil society leaders, the deal appears to serve the interests of elites—both local and global—rather than the people most affected by the conflict. Maurice Carney, co-founder and executive director of Friends of the Congo, was blunt in his assessment: "If the past five months [are] any indication, we do not expect anything to fundamentally change in the near future." He insisted to DW that "the economic interests of local elites in Kigali and Kinshasa and global elites in Washington… they converge, and those are the interests being met, not those of the Congolese people at all." Carney pointed to the fact that some of the most lucrative coltan mines are currently under M23 rebel control, and warned that ordinary Congolese—especially the 70 million living on less than $2.15 a day, as per World Bank figures—would see little benefit from the deal. "It's certainly not an agreement between equal partners," he said.
Analysts argue that the agreement is as much about geopolitics as it is about peace. The US, they say, is keen to counter China’s dominance in the global mineral supply chain. Carney highlighted ongoing US initiatives like the Lobito Corridor, launched under President Biden through the G7 and EU, as direct attempts to undermine China’s Belt and Road Initiative, not only in Congo but across the Global South. "The geostrategic battle with China is also very, very important," Carney noted.
Meanwhile, the humanitarian situation in eastern Congo has deteriorated, exacerbated by cuts in US aid that once helped sustain relief efforts. With violence persisting and basic services disrupted, many in Goma and surrounding areas face daily hardship. The sense among residents is one of resignation mixed with faint hope. As the world’s attention drifts back to diplomatic handshakes and press releases, the people of eastern Congo are left to navigate the uncertainty—and danger—of life on the front lines.
For now, the future of peace in the region remains precarious. While leaders and diplomats tout the promise of a new beginning, the lived reality for millions in eastern Congo is anything but peaceful. As one observer put it, the true test will not be in Washington’s grand halls, but in the streets of Goma, Bukavu, and countless other communities waiting for the guns to fall silent.
