In the mineral-rich heart of eastern Congo, a dramatic military parade by the M23 rebel group has cast a long shadow over hopes for peace in a region scarred by years of violence. On the weekend of September 13-14, 2025, Goma’s streets were filled with the sight of more than 7,000 new M23 recruits marching in formation—a show of force that has unsettled residents and raised urgent questions about the future of an impending peace deal between the Congolese government and Rwanda, the rebels’ main backer.
The sheer scale of the parade stunned many. According to reporting from the Associated Press, the M23 claimed its ranks now include Congolese soldiers who surrendered during fierce fighting earlier this year, along with local militia members who joined forces with the rebels. The group’s resurgence is not a sudden phenomenon; in January 2025, M23 fighters launched rapid assaults, seizing control of key cities such as Goma and Bukavu as the national army retreated in disarray. United Nations experts have attributed much of the group’s strength to support from thousands of Rwandan troops, a charge that has fueled regional tensions and complicated peace efforts.
The timing of this military spectacle is particularly fraught. A peace agreement—brokered with the help of Qatari mediators and expected to be signed in Washington within weeks—hangs in the balance. Central to the deal is the withdrawal of Rwandan support for M23 and the return of occupied territories to Congolese authorities. Both sides, under international pressure, have publicly committed to ending the conflict. Yet, as the parade in Goma made clear, the reality on the ground is far more complicated.
Recent weeks have seen renewed skirmishes between M23 and government-aligned groups, with each side accusing the other of violating the ceasefire. “So it means that, you know, they are not ready to go through the peaceful process,” said Christian Rumu, a senior campaigner at Amnesty International, in comments reported by AP. The parade, he suggested, was less a gesture of reconciliation than a signal that both camps are still preparing for war.
For ordinary Congolese, the spectacle was a bitter blow. Many had pinned their hopes on the Washington and Doha agreements, believing that international mediation might finally bring an end to the bloodshed. Adeline Munene, a 34-year-old resident of Goma, voiced a sentiment echoed by many: “We’ve just seen thousands of new M23 fighters again. We are losing hope. We thought the Washington and Doha agreements would bring peace. Now I’m disappointed.”
Human rights organizations have also sounded the alarm about the methods used to swell the rebels’ ranks. Reports from multiple sources, including Newsday, indicate that both soldiers and young civilians have faced pressure to join the M23, raising fears of forced recruitment and further destabilization. Christian Moleka, a political analyst based in Congo, described the parade as “a form of materialization of an occupation that is taking root and increasingly taking the tacit form of a state within a state.”
The humanitarian cost of the conflict is staggering. At least 3,000 people have been killed, and millions more have been displaced, according to United Nations estimates. The situation has grown so dire that thousands of families have been forced to flee their homes, seeking refuge in makeshift camps or braving dangerous journeys toward uncertain safety. Images captured by AP photographers show long lines of weary civilians trudging along the roads near Kibumba, north of Goma—an all-too-familiar scene in a region where violence has become a grim routine.
But the suffering does not end with displacement. A recent United Nations report detailed what it called “horrific atrocities” committed over the past year by both the Congolese armed forces and the M23 rebels. The catalogue of abuses includes gang rape, sexual slavery, torture, and the deliberate killing of civilians. The U.N. human rights office has placed responsibility on the governments of both Congo and Rwanda, underscoring the complexity of a conflict in which lines of blame are sharply contested but consequences are borne by the innocent.
The roots of the M23 rebellion run deep. The group is primarily composed of ethnic Tutsis who, after failing to integrate into the national army, launched an unsuccessful insurgency against the Congolese government in 2012. For a decade, M23 lay dormant, but in 2022 it re-emerged, capitalizing on regional instability and unresolved grievances. The group’s resurgence has been marked by sophisticated tactics, rapid offensives, and—crucially—the backing of Rwandan military resources, as confirmed by U.N. investigators.
The impending peace deal, shaped by months of negotiation and international diplomacy, is seen by many as the best hope for ending the cycle of violence. Yet, the spectacle in Goma has cast doubt on whether either side is truly committed to laying down arms. The agreement’s key provisions—Rwanda’s withdrawal of support for M23 and the return of seized territories—are ambitious, but their implementation remains far from certain. With both sides fortifying their positions and accusations of ceasefire violations flying, the prospect of a lasting settlement feels fragile at best.
For the people of eastern Congo, the stakes could not be higher. The region’s vast mineral wealth—long a source of both promise and peril—has fueled not only the ambitions of armed groups but also the interests of neighboring states and international actors. As the world watches and diplomats prepare to gather in Washington, residents of Goma and Bukavu are left to wonder whether peace is truly within reach, or if the parade of new recruits signals only another chapter in a seemingly endless war.
As the dust settles on Goma’s parade grounds, the question lingers: will the upcoming peace deal mark a turning point, or is it merely another promise at risk of being broken on the unforgiving terrain of eastern Congo?