- M23 rebels have dismissed the Congo-Rwanda peace agreement brokered by Trump as irrelevant to their cause.
- Currently, thousands of Rwandan troops remain in Congo, and roughly seven million Congolese remain displaced.
- For Trump to declare “peace” in such conditions feels premature at best, opportunistic at worst.
Last week, the foreign ministers of the Democratic Republic of Congo and Rwanda signed a peace agreement to end decades of bloodshed in eastern Congo. With Secretary of State Marco Rubio and President Donald Trump present at the signing ceremony in Washington, the moment was framed by the administration as a landmark victory for peace and diplomacy.
“Today, the violence and destruction comes to an end,” Trump stated. “A new chapter of hope and opportunity, harmony, prosperity and peace.”
The optics were impeccable. But scratch beneath the surface, and a more complex narrative emerges — one that raises the question: Is the Congo-Rwanda peace hero really President Trump, or is this just another shrewd performance in the theater of power politics?
From indictments to international headlines
It’s impossible to ignore the timing. As Trump faces a maelstrom of domestic legal troubles—federal indictments, and a looming fallout from his key support domestically—his pivot to international diplomacy feels less like statesmanship and more like strategic brand management.
With his approval ratings plummeting, Trump has been eager to cast himself in the mold of a globe-trotting dealmaker – from the short-lived India-Pakistan tiff to the 12-day Israel-Iran war that ended with U.S. bombing of key nuclear enrichment sites. From North Korea to Israel, Trump has long believed in the power of spectacle to signal strength. The Congo-Rwanda treaty is the latest installment of that strategy: a made-for-TV moment of “peace,” heavily amplified by his team, yet shadowed by unresolved complexity on the ground.
However, his role in this deal cannot be dismissed entirely. Trump’s administration did apply diplomatic pressure, and with backing from the Gulf nation of Qatar, helped usher the two countries into a room together. But to label him the “hero” of Central Africa’s longest war is both ahistorical and dangerously simplistic.
Posturing or Peacemaking?
The idea of Donald Trump as Africa’s peacemaker stretches credulity for many. This is the same president who infamously dismissed African nations with vulgar disdain and whose Africa policy—aside from strategic mineral interests—has been largely transactional. At the moment, policymakers across the continent are yet to come to terms with Trump’s dismantling of USAID, America’s aid programme that has offered healthcare and relief support to Africa for over six decades.
So what changed? Possibly nothing, except the political calculus
Peace in the Great Lakes region conveniently checks multiple boxes. It offers Trump a high-profile foreign policy “win” that distracts from domestic squabbles with his supporter turned foe, Elon Musk who has vowed to fight tooth and nail to defeat Trump’s ‘Big Beautiful Bill’ citing that the proposed legislation simply lumps debt on a majority of Americans.
The Congo-Rwanda deal has been hailed in some quarters as a move that gives U.S. companies access to critical Congolese minerals such as cobalt and coltan – all elements that are vital in green transition especially in the manufacture of electric car batteries. The deal lets Trump recast himself, once again, as the ultimate dealmaker—a man who can end wars while others talk about them.
But the deal itself is fragile. Already, the Rwanda-backed M23 rebel group, arguably the most potent force in the conflict, has dismissed the agreement as irrelevant to their cause. Meanwhile, thousands of Rwandan troops remain in Congo, and roughly seven million Congolese remain displaced. To declare “peace” in such conditions feels premature at best, opportunistic at worst.
Africa has seen this before
This isn’t the first time a U.S. president has tried to play peacemaker in Congo. President George W. Bush launched the PEPFAR initiative to combat HIV/AIDS and supported regional stability missions in the Great Lakes zone. President Barack Obama, whose administration led diplomatic efforts during the 2012 M23 uprising, took a more multilateral and less headline-driven approach. His special envoy to the Great Lakes region, Russ Feingold, spent years engaging African leaders and regional bodies in negotiations.
Compared to these sustained, structural efforts, Trump’s involvement seems more performative — focused on optics rather than outcome. The signing ceremony, held in the State Department’s Treaty Room and followed by an Oval Office photo op, had all the hallmarks of a Trumpian production: declarative, dramatic, and lacking long-term infrastructure for implementation.
Who really drove the Congo-Rwanda deal?
If there’s one thing African political leaders understand well, it’s how to work the interests of global superpowers. Congo’s Foreign Minister Therese Kayikwamba Wagner lauded the U.S. as a “reliable partner” and signaled openness to American investment — particularly in mining and infrastructure.
But read between the lines, and it’s clear that Congolese and Rwandan leaders brought their own political motivations to the table. Congo desperately needs military and economic backing to push back against rebel groups and stabilize the resource-rich east. Rwanda, long accused of profiting from eastern Congo’s chaos, faces mounting international scrutiny and pressure to disengage.
This wasn’t a case of African nations being dragged to peace by Washington. Rather, they saw in the U.S.— and in Trump — a willing vehicle to legitimize a deal already desired for pragmatic reasons. Trump may have hosted the stage, but the script was co-written in Kinshasa and Kigali.
The U.S.: Broker or Opportunist?
The treaty has provisions on disarmament, withdrawal of troops, and reintegration of non-state armed groups. On paper, it’s a significant diplomatic effort. In practice, it’s a means for the U.S. to solidify its interests in the region — interests increasingly threatened by China’s deep economic footprint in Congo’s mining sector.
With Chinese companies controlling much of the global cobalt refining capacity, the U.S. sees eastern Congo not just as a humanitarian crisis, but as a strategic battlefield. Peace — however thin or temporary — opens up avenues for American companies to negotiate mineral access, infrastructure deals, and digital connectivity projects.
Trump’s administration isn’t blind to this. A Department of Commerce estimate values Congo’s mineral deposits at $24 trillion. What better way to access them than under the banner of peace?
The Perils of the “Savior” Narrative
Perhaps the most troubling aspect of Trump’s role in the deal is the suggestion that he, a U.S. president facing mounting domestic dissaproval during his second term, is the singular hero of a decades-long African conflict. It’s a narrative that erases African agency, oversimplifies the complexity of war, and risks undermining the fragile trust of those most affected by the violence.
Hope Muhinuka, a Congolese activist from North Kivu — the heart of the conflict — said it best: “I don’t think the Americans should be trusted 100 per cent. It is up to us to capitalize on all we have now as an opportunity.”
This sentiment echoes a broader skepticism in Africa about the real intentions behind foreign interventions. The history of Congo is littered with externally imposed agreements that failed to deliver peace because they prioritized extraction over justice, and optics over healing.
So, Is Trump the Hero?
The answer depends on what you mean by “hero.” If it’s the man who took credit for a photo op while Congolese civilians still flee bullets in Bunagana, then perhaps. If it’s the president who unlocked American corporate access to Africa’s minerals while framing it as humanitarian concern, then maybe.
But if we’re measuring heroism by championing grassroots engagement, overseeing the return of millions to their homes, and commitment to responsible investment in the Congo’s extractive industry — the things that outlast headlines — then the verdict remains out.
Trump helped close a chapter, yes. But whether he opened a better one is still unknown. True peace will not come from press conferences in D.C., but from sustained commitment to justice, accountability, and African self-determination. Anything less, however well-packaged, is not peace — it’s performance.
Read also: What the U.S. gains from the Congo-Rwanda peace treaty
