Diplomatic Triumph or Fragile Truce? Inside the Latest Peace Accord
Few recent moments in African diplomacy match the theater of the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) and Rwanda signing a sweeping peace agreement in the Oval Office. Hosted by President Donald Trump and shepherded by Massad Boulos—a key behind-the-scenes operator in the Trump State Department—this June 2025 accord was supposed to signal a new chapter for a region haunted by decades of violence. Yet, for all the rhetoric about a historic breakthrough, skepticism is thick in the air from both the streets of Goma to the corridors of policy analysts in Nairobi and Brussels.
The deal, praised for its ambitions to end hostilities and jumpstart regional prosperity, requires Rwandan troop withdrawals and promises to neutralize armed groups, such as the notorious Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Rwanda (FDLR) and the ever-volatile M23. But a closer look reveals key fissures—from the outright rejection of the agreement by M23 leaders to Rwandan President Paul Kagame’s pointed warnings about retaliatory action should Congo “play tricks” or fail to disarm Hutu militiamen. What lessons can history offer when peace deals are shaped more by outside powerbrokers than by the fractured societies living through the conflict?
The Missing Puzzle Pieces: Local Buy-In and Lasting Accountability
Political commentators have quickly highlighted the impressive choreography of Washington’s peacemaking, yet the reality on the ground is grimmer. While U.S. officials and their Qatari counterparts tout this pact as laying the groundwork for both peace and a new era of economic partnership—unlocking the mineral wealth so central to global tech supply chains—those closest to the violence question the sincerity and feasibility of these lofty plans. From Kinshasa to Kigali, both citizens and observers wonder whether diplomatic showmanship can be a substitute for the hard work of reconciliation, inclusion, and justice.
Lack of inclusivity stands out as a fatal flaw. Critics such as Corneille Nangaa, coordinator of the M23-affiliated Congo River Alliance, have dismissed the Washington deal as “limited,” accusing Kinshasa of actively undermining parallel negotiations unfolding in Doha. This underscores a vital lesson from past peace efforts: Agreements struck at high-profile international venues often lose legitimacy when the voices of all armed groups, civil society, and local leaders are sidelined.
These are not hypothetical concerns. Congo’s east has seen cycles of failed deals before. Following the 2008 Goma Accords and the 2013 peace framework, hopes for peace evaporated as implementation faltered, accountability vanished, and excluded factions returned to armed struggle. Harvard political scientist Sarah Wade notes, “Sustainable peace in eastern Congo depends on a process that recognizes local grievances, includes all armed actors, and prioritizes robust transitional justice mechanisms.” Until then, ceasefires risk becoming temporary pauses rather than true endings to war.
“Without accountability for past atrocities and genuine inclusion of grassroots actors, top-down peace deals remain dangerously brittle,” cautions University of Nairobi peace studies expert Martin Mbeke.
Beyond that, implementation remains the Achilles’ heel of such agreements. The requirement that Rwandan troops withdraw from eastern Congo within 90 days may read well on paper, but the UN’s persistent allegations—that these forces support M23 rebels who still control swathes of Congolese territory—complicate an already fraught timetable. Kagame’s insistence on DRC neutralizing the FDLR recalls the regional dynamics that perpetuate tit-for-tat logic, jeopardizing fragile truces. If the DRC falters, Kagame has signaled a willingness to act unilaterally, echoing previous interventions that fueled the region’s instability.
Opportunity or Optics? The Perils of Externally Brokered Peace
Why is this fragile peace so hard to sustain? Part of the answer lies in the deep-rooted mistrust between neighbors—nurtured by years of mutual suspicions and real atrocities. M23’s refusal to recognize the deal’s authority highlights the limits of any agreement that excludes powerful stakeholders. Equally, previous “peace agreements” have too often kicked the can down the road on issues of impunity, ethnic discrimination, and competition for Congo’s vast mineral resources. The international community, especially under conservative leadership, has sometimes emphasized stability and mineral access over human rights and justice. This tendency, according to Human Rights Watch, “creates incentives for belligerents to sign on for short-term benefit, while entrenching long-term grievances.”
Such oversights are not new. Look back to the failed Lusaka Ceasefire Agreement of 1999 or the subsequent Sun City Accords: their collapse owed much to the reliance on elite negotiations and external facilitators over local agency. The Trump White House’s hosting of the DRC–Rwanda deal may have drawn global cameras, but critics argue that glitzy diplomatic theater rarely substitutes for the tedious, often messy work of trust-building at the village and provincial levels.
Progressive, community-driven models have shown more staying power. The 2016 “Local Compacts” in South Sudan, for instance, achieved real gains by prioritizing local mediation, joint monitoring, and community reparations—lessons now being ignored as Washington and Doha elbow local actors out of center stage.
If the peace process becomes little more than a photo opportunity for global powers, Africans living in the shadow of violence will once again be left holding the fragments. Yale historian Kate Ramsey observes, “When international prestige becomes the guiding force, accountability, sustainability, and local agency tend to take a back seat—leaving the underlying tensions dangerously unresolved.”
Paths Forward: Opportunity, Justice, and the Hard Truths of Peace
Is there a path forward that breaks this cycle? A growing chorus of African civil society voices urges a bolder, more inclusive approach—one that foregrounds transitional justice, economic cooperation rooted in shared communities, and regional power-sharing rather than the winner-takes-all logic of past deals. The stakes are too high for failure: millions displaced, a generation traumatized, and the mineral-rich heart of Africa poised on a geopolitical knife’s edge.
Peace isn’t a spectator sport—it’s lived by communities and earned through real accountability. Without mechanisms to address war crimes, reconcile divided factions, and invest directly in economic opportunity for everyday Congolese and Rwandans—not just for well-connected elites—this latest peace deal risks ending as footnote rather than foundation.
Progressive values demand we invest not just in ceasefires but in the tough, necessary work of building inclusive, just societies. Anything less would be an abdication not only of responsibility, but of hope.
