The recent sentencing to death of Joseph Kabila, the former president of the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), marks the latest twist in an escalating power struggle between Kabila and his successor, current president Félix Tshisekedi. On 30 September 2025, a military tribunal sentenced Kabila to death after finding him guilty of several serious crimes, including treason, crimes against humanity, insurrection, and torture. Kabila, the country’s longest-serving president, ruled the country for 18 years between 2001 and 2019 and still commands a sizeable following. He was tried in absentia and did not participate in the proceedings. He was also ordered to pay a fine of $33 billion, a symbolic as well as punitive measure against a figure who once dominated Congolese politics.

The deterioration of relations between Tshisekedi and Kabila, a sitting president and his immediate predecessor, is not an isolated phenomenon. Across sub-Saharan Africa, similar ruptures between incumbents and their predecessors have frequently destabilised political systems. In Botswana, the dramatic fallout between President Mokgweetsi Masisi and his old boss Ian Khama led to Khama’s expulsion from the ruling Botswana Democratic Party (BDP) – a party founded by Khama’s father – as well as the subsequent self-exile of the Khama family from Botswana. As descendants of Botswana’s founding president and hereditary leaders of one of the country’s largest clans, the Khamas later threw their considerable political weight behind the opposition, a key factor in the BDP’s 2024 shock electoral defeat after nearly six decades in power, and Masisi’s removal from office.

Similarly, in Zambia, when Frederick Chiluba unseated longtime president Kenneth Kaunda in 1991, he had him imprisoned for allegedly plotting a coup. Chiluba himself would later face arrest for corruption after a breakdown with his successor, Levy Patrick Mwanawasa. More recently, a comparable situation unfolded in South Africa, where Jacob Zuma’s protracted corruption scandals alienated him from both his predecessor Thabo Mbeki and his successor Cyril Ramaphosa, leading to a seismic fracture in the ruling African National Congress (ANC).

In the DRC, Kabila’s case is centred around his alleged collusion with neighbouring Rwanda to provide covert support to the M23 rebel movement, which has recently plunged the mineral-rich Lake Kivu region into turmoil. He is accused of financing and assisting the M23 rebels, whose stated objective is to overthrow President Tshisekedi. Although Kabila has in the past denied any links to the rebels, authorities in Kinshasa say that he is the mastermind behind the insurgency. Earlier this year, his immunity was revoked and a directive issued to seize his assets — a move widely viewed as punitive action against a man long tied to efforts to undermine President Félix Tshisekedi’s grip on power.

Yet the rift between Kabila and Tshisekedi runs much deeper. The two men have been locked in a bitter rivalry that spans generations. Tshisekedi’s father, Étienne, was a longtime opposition leader during the three decades of Kabila family rule, beginning with the presidency of Laurent-Désiré Kabila, Joseph’s father. This rivalry reached a peak when the elder Tshisekedi died in Brussels in 2017, and the Kabila government refused to allow his repatriation and burial in the DRC. Étienne’s body remained in a Brussels morgue for two years, until Félix Tshisekedi’s rise to the presidency in 2019, ending Kabila’s rule. Only then was Étienne repatriated and granted a state funeral in his homeland.

Given the depth of the rivalry between the two men, it is perhaps unsurprising that a Tshisekedi-led government would seek to use state power to settle old political scores. Kabila’s supporters have labelled the court case a show trial, denouncing it as pure political theatre, and questioned the legitimacy of using a military court to try a civilian. In any case, Kabila is unlikely to return to face judgment, and his whereabouts remain unclear. He is reportedly residing in the Namibian capital, Windhoek, though the Namibian government has denied knowledge of his whereabouts and emphasised that its constitution prohibits the extradition of anyone facing the death penalty. Beyond the legal proceedings, the use of state institutions by an incumbent to pursue long-standing political rivalries raises broader concerns that the DRC under Tshisekedi is drifting toward authoritarianism. It is a far cry from the promises of greater freedoms that accompanied his rise to power.

The latest developments in the DRC have cast a spotlight on the controversial peace agreement recently concluded between the DRC, Rwanda, and the United States. Under this deal, the United States could tap into the DRC’s estimated $25 trillion in mineral wealth in exchange for brokering peace, thereby reducing reliance on China for critical rare earth minerals.

The conflict between the DRC and Rwanda is one of several wars Trump has claimed to have ended in his quest for the Nobel Peace Prize. It is a complex and protracted struggle that stretches back decades, and the latest wave of hostilities began in 2022, when renewed M23 rebel attacks around Lake Kivu killed more than 7,000 people and displaced millions. At a White House ceremony presided over by President Trump and Secretary of State Marco Rubio in June 2025, the foreign ministers of the DRC and Rwanda signed a US-brokered accord, pledging to respect each other’s sovereignty and territorial integrity and to resolve disputes peacefully.

The deal has, however, drawn sharp criticism. Renowned Congolese Nobel laureate and gynaecologist Denis Mukwege called it ‘transactional’, accusing Washington of legitimising the plunder of Congolese resources. Despite Trump’s claims to have ended the war, there is little evidence the conflict is abating. The M23 continues to control large swathes of territory in eastern DRC, including key cities such as Goma. Rebel leaders have even vowed to carry on fighting until they seize the capital, Kinshasa, underscoring the continued fragility of the situation.

The deal is fraught with weaknesses. Many key stakeholders were excluded from the negotiation process, the language of the agreement remains vague, and it omits crucial elements that have underpinned lasting peace in similar conflicts, such as justice, accountability for crimes committed, and an inclusive process that brings both victims and perpetrators to the table. Crucially, the deal sidelines the Congolese political opposition, which remains loyal to former president Joseph Kabila.

History suggests that, in the DRC, peace agreements that lack inclusivity rarely succeed. In 1999, Zambian president Frederick Chiluba facilitated the Lusaka Ceasefire Agreement to end the Second Congo War. Unlike the Washington-brokered accord, the Lusaka deal brought together leaders from the DRC, Rwanda, Uganda, Zimbabwe, and other regional actors. Crucially, however, the agreement excluded local militias and failed to account for the fluid and shifting alliances on the ground, factors that later undermined its viability. Although it initially produced a cessation of hostilities, several parties did not honour their commitments, and violence soon resumed.

This was followed by the Sun City Agreement (or “Final Act”), brokered by former South African president Thabo Mbeki, which sought a definitive end to the war but proved unable to address the underlying structural issues driving the conflict. Similarly, fragmentation within alliances hindered the accord’s implementation and ultimate effectiveness.

In light of these previous initiatives, it is clear that Trump’s agreement lacks broad regional backing and meaningful international support; it amounts to little more than a bilateral arrangement that overlooks the multilayered nature of the conflict. The lessons of history appear not to have been fully absorbed.

In an era when China has emerged as the dominant force in the global rare earths trade, it is unsurprising that the Trump administration would insert itself into a complex peace deal as a means of closing the gap – and one that, by most estimates, faces an uphill trajectory for success. Only time will tell whether this latest agreement is destined to share the tragic fate of earlier efforts.