security

Ebola kills in hours when it is not caught early. A mother who reaches a treatment bed in time, with oxygen, fluids and a nurse who knows what to do, has a fighting chance. A mother who reaches it too late, or never reaches it, has none. The World Health Organization has now warned that the Democratic Republic of the Congo is fighting its largest Ebola outbreak on record, and that health workers are struggling to deliver the very care that decides who lives. We need to ask the uncomfortable question the WHO's careful language does not: who is making that care impossible to deliver?
The answer is not a virus. It is a war. And in eastern Congo, that war has a name, a command structure and a return address in Kigali.
Start with what the medical science says, because it sets the stakes. Ebola has no cure, but two monoclonal antibody treatments, Inmazeb and Ebanga, have been shown in trials to sharply reduce deaths when given early. Supportive care, meaning rehydration, oxygen, and skilled monitoring, keeps patients alive while their own immune systems fight back. The vaccine that protects health workers and contacts exists for the Zaire strain that dominates Congo's outbreaks. The tools are on the shelf. The problem is getting them into the bodies of sick people, fast, in the places where the fighting is worst.
Now look at the geography. In January and February 2025, the M23 rebel group, which UN experts have repeatedly documented as operating with the Rwanda Defence Force (RDF) at its core, seized Goma and Bukavu, two of the largest cities in eastern Congo. That was not a rebellion finding its feet. It was the capture of major urban centres by a force that the UN Group of Experts, in reports including S/2025/446 and the later S/2026/466, has described in detail: Rwandan combat units operating inside Congo, supplied with heavy weapons, drones and command support from Kigali.
Congo did not lose control of these cities by accident. Rwanda sent roughly 14,000 to 18,000 of its own soldiers, around 40 to 50 percent of its army, into a sovereign neighbour. Those soldiers do not guard hospitals. They occupy them. They also do not fight alone. M23 supplies the mass manpower and the cover of a "local" movement, exactly as Moscow used the so-called Donetsk and Luhansk separatists to disguise its invasion of Ukraine. The West called that an invasion when Russia did it. Why do we pretend the same playbook is something else when Kigali runs it?
The human cost of that occupation is written in the ground. Satellite imagery analysis has documented more than 1,171 new graves at the Kanombe military cemetery in Kigali since 2021. Rwanda does not publicise its dead because admitting the number means admitting the war. Inside occupied Congo, M23 has expanded from roughly 3,000 fighters to more than 30,000 by press-ganging Congolese civilians and captured prisoners of war into its ranks. Men are seized from their fields and sent to the front with a rifle and no training. That is slavery wearing a military uniform.
Now connect those facts to Ebola. Every health facility under M23 or RDF control is a facility whose staff answer to people who have no interest in public health, no accountability to Congolese law, and every reason to restrict the movement of aid. Every road cut by fighting is a road a sick child cannot travel. Every displaced family crowded into camps with no clean water is a family that Ebola will find. During the 2018 to 2020 Kivu outbreak, which killed 2,287 people, treatment centres were burned and response teams were attacked repeatedly. Now the same region is armed, occupied and fractured on a far greater scale. Health workers are not struggling because of bad luck. They are struggling because a foreign army is standing between them and the patients.
Rwanda will say it is protecting its borders from the FDLR, a Hutu armed group whose remnants Kigali has used for years as its justification. We have heard that argument before, and it has never once been the whole story. The UN experts have documented Rwanda's support for M23 in detail. Mineral flows, from coltan and gold, have moved through supply chains that reach far beyond the Great Lakes. The people who benefit are the commanders and the corporate intermediaries. The people who bleed are Congolese farmers, Congolese mothers and Congolese children who did not choose this war.
And here is the obscenity we must name every time. Rwanda markets itself to the world as a clean, orderly, forward-looking nation. It sells gorilla trekking in the Virunga forests. It has paid for its tourism brand through sponsorship deals with European football clubs. It hosts international conferences and dresses its capital in glass and promise. Meanwhile its soldiers are in a neighbouring country, and that neighbouring country is burying its dead during an epidemic. Sportswashing is not a harmless PR exercise when the bodies are real. Every advert that sells Kigali as a paradise is a lie told on the backs of Congolese corpses.
Rwanda's record in public health is real, and we say so. Its community health worker model is studied across the continent, and its response to outbreaks has often been swift at home. That is exactly why its behaviour next door is so damning. A government that knows how to save lives chooses to put its army where those lives are most at risk. Competence at home does not excuse aggression abroad. It makes the aggression harder to explain.
We also must not let Kinshasa off the hook. A government that has failed for decades to build roads, supply hospitals and pay its public servants has left a vacuum that outside powers have eagerly filled. Corruption inside Congo's own security forces has been a documented problem, and it has bled the response. But a failing state does not license a neighbour to invade it. The root of this crisis is not only Congolese weakness. It is Rwandan aggression exploiting that weakness, with the silence of the wider world as its shield.
So what should happen? First, the African Union must stop writing communiqués and start enforcing its own principle of respect for territorial integrity. The AU Peace and Security Council should name the RDF's presence in Congo for what it is, demand a verified withdrawal timetable, and attach real consequences to non-compliance. The Washington and Doha frameworks signed in 2025 contain commitments to disengagement. Those commitments mean nothing unless they are verified by independent monitors with unfettered access and unambiguous enforcement powers.
Second, the UN Security Council must renew and strengthen sanctions targeting the commanders and suppliers sustaining M23 and the RDF, including the mineral networks that finance them. Sanctions should follow the money, not the press releases. Every gold shipment and coltan consignment that passes through a sanctioned chain should be flagged, seized or traced until the trade is clean.
Third, humanitarian corridors must be guaranteed. Ebola teams, oxygen suppliers, vaccine cold chains and treatment-centre staff must be granted safe passage by every armed actor on the ground, with the RDF and M23 both bound to that commitment in writing. Africa CDC and the WHO should publish, every week, a public map of which health facilities are operating, which are closed, and why. Transparency kills impunity faster than any speech.
Fourth, we should look to the models that prove better governance works. Botswana built one of the continent's most respected economies on strong property rights, independent institutions and disciplined public finance. Mauritius showed that a small island state can attract investment and deliver health and education when it refuses corruption. Senegal demonstrated that peaceful democratic transitions, when citizens insist on them, can defeat entrenched power. The lesson is simple: nations that respect rule of law, protect markets from capture and hold rulers accountable do not need foreign armies to govern them, and they do not export their violence to their neighbours.
We are done being told that Africa's crises are too complicated to solve. Ebola is not complicated. A patient needs oxygen within hours. A nurse needs a road. A village needs to know the clinic is open and safe. Every obstacle between those basics and the people who need them is a choice made by someone. Right now, in eastern Congo, one of those choices is being made in Kigali, and it is being carried out in uniform by Rwandan soldiers and their M23 auxiliaries.
So here is what we demand. The Rwandan government must withdraw its forces from Congolese territory, now, and stop pretending that its army is an accident of geography. The AU must stop hiding behind diplomatic language and name the aggressor. The UN Security Council must sanction the people who are profiting from this war. The Congolese government must clean its own house, stamp out the corruption that starves its health system, and prove to its citizens that the state is worth defending. And we, as African citizens, must refuse to let this story disappear the moment the headlines move on.
Share this. Ask your MP, your journalist, your union leader and your church pastor what they are doing about the RDF's presence in Congo. Demand that Africa CDC and the WHO publish the access data. Demand that the trade that funds M23 be traced to its last link. The mothers burying their children in eastern Congo cannot shout loudly enough to be heard across the border. That is our job.
Based on reporting by UN-NEWS