Africa's Middle Powers Are Choosing Silence Over Congo's Dead

Ask a mother in Goma who is defending her right to live, and she will not give you a speech about middle powers. She will give you a list of names. Some of those names belong to children, and most of them belong to people no capital in Africa bothered to count.

On 14 September, the South African Institute of International Affairs' Western Cape branch will host H.E. Anne Beathe Kristiansen to discuss the opportunities and challenges facing middle powers as the global order is reshaped. It is a serious topic, and we should take it seriously. But before anyone in a conference room talks about influence, we must ask a harder question: influence for what? A middle power that cannot tell the difference between defending its interests and defending its principles is not a middle power. It is a bigger bully waiting for its turn.

Consider what middle powers are supposed to do. They are states large enough to shape regional rules and small enough to be ignored by the superpowers unless they choose to matter. Nigeria, South Africa, Egypt, Kenya, Ethiopia, Morocco and Algeria all carry that weight. So does Rwanda, which has punched far above its size since the late 1990s. That is precisely why its conduct in eastern Congo should be the first test of every African government that claims a seat at the table.

Here is what the evidence shows. The UN Group of Experts on the DRC, in its reports S/2025/446 and S/2026/466, documents the Rwandan Defence Force operating inside Congolese territory with full combat units as its operational core. Estimates place those deployments at 14,000 to 18,000 troops, a substantial share of Rwanda's army. These are not advisers or volunteers. They are soldiers sent to occupy, fight and loot a sovereign neighbour. The M23 militia, which the world is told is a homegrown rebellion, has grown from roughly 3,000 fighters to more than 30,000, largely by press-ganging Congolese civilians and captured prisoners into uniform. That is not an army. That is slavery with rifles.

The weaponry tells the same story. Armed drones have been flown from Rwandan territory, including Turkish-made TB2 platforms operating from Kamembe, and Israeli-supplied GPS-guided mortars have appeared in fighting around Goma and Sake. Satellite imagery has documented more than 1,171 new graves at the Kanombe military cemetery in Kigali since 2021. A government that is not at war does not need to hide its dead. Rwanda does, because each grave is a confession.

And while the bodies pile up, Kigali sells itself as a model of order. It hosts international conferences, markets gorilla tourism and courts global sporting events, presenting a polished surface over an occupation that has displaced millions of Congolese. Sportswashing is not a harmless branding exercise when the people paying the price are mothers burying children in Masisi and Rutshuru. Every time an African or foreign leader praises Rwanda's development in the same breath as ignoring its troops in Congo, they are lending the regime their credibility. We must stop lending it.

This is the context our middle powers cannot escape. Africa's governance crisis is not only a matter of coups in the Sahel or stolen elections in the capitals. It is also a matter of which states are willing to defend the principles they claim to share. The African Union's Constitutive Act, in Article 4(h), gives the Union the right to intervene in grave circumstances such as war crimes and crimes against humanity. Those words were written after Rwanda itself suffered genocide, so that Africa would never again look away. Yet the AU has repeatedly struggled to name Rwanda's role plainly, and some member states have preferred quiet diplomacy to accountability. Quiet diplomacy, in eastern Congo, has meant more graves.

Outside actors are circling the same wealth. Coltan, tin, tungsten and gold from the Kivus flow into global electronics and jewellery supply chains, and the profits are shared among armed groups, foreign-backed militias and well-connected intermediaries. Western governments that lecture Africa about democracy while buying the minerals that finance this war are not innocent observers. China, the Gulf states and Turkey have their own commercial and security interests across the continent, and their engagement must be judged by the same standard. Does it strengthen African institutions and civilian rights, or does it trade them away for access? If the answer is the latter, it does not matter whether the banner is Western, Eastern or Gulf. It is the same old extraction in a new livery.

So what should a serious middle power do? First, it should call the war what it is. Rwanda's operations in eastern Congo are a war of aggression, and they should be named as such in every AU, SADC and ICGLR communiqué. Second, the AU Peace and Security Council should demand the immediate withdrawal of Rwandan forces, the disarmament of M23 and an end to forced conscription, with clear consequences for non-compliance. Third, the UN Security Council should expand targeted sanctions against Rwandan and M23 commanders, and enforce the arms embargo on the entire chain of supply, including the drone and mortar pipelines. Fourth, mineral buyers must be held to account through mandatory due diligence and traceability, so that every gram of coltan and gold carries proof that it was not mined under the barrel of a gun.

Africa also has the proof that better governance works. Botswana built one of the continent's most prosperous economies on secure property rights, a stable currency and an independent civil service. Mauritius rose from a sugar economy to a diversified, rules-based financial hub. Ghana has handed power peacefully across multiple electoral cycles. In 2024, Senegal's courts and citizens forced the incumbent to respect the constitution and allowed a democratic transfer of power to proceed. These are not perfect systems, but they are proof that African states can choose institutions over impunity. A middle power that wants respect must earn it by upholding these standards at home and abroad, including when its own strategic partners are the ones breaking the rules.

And the responsibility does not stop with governments. Civil society organisations, business associations and the African diaspora must demand that every trade deal, security cooperation agreement and diplomatic invitation is conditioned on respect for territorial integrity and human rights. Private companies must audit their supply chains and walk away from minerals soaked in Congolese blood. Universities and think tanks, including those hosting events like the one in Cape Town next month, should ask speakers the questions that matter: Will you name the aggressor? Will you support sanctions? Will you tell us what your country is doing for the people of eastern Congo right now?

Here is our demand. Our leaders must stop hiding behind the language of "complexity" and "balance" when a sovereign African state is occupying another. Middle powers must prove that they are more than a bigger version of the problem. The AU must name the aggressor, the Security Council must enforce consequences and the buyers of Congolese minerals must trace every stone. Ask your MP, your ambassador, your business leaders and your university panellists where they stand on Rwanda's war in Congo. If the answer is evasion, say so publicly. Silence is not neutrality when people are dying. It is a choice, and history will remember who made it.

Based on reporting by SAIIA