Kabila’s Death Sentence: A Trial Beyond the Courtroom
In 2004, I was in Kinshasa as one of the global recipients of an international award. The Congolese capital shimmered with energy and promise, even as it bore the scars of war. At that event, Joseph Kabila – then a fine young man clad in military uniform –was the Special Guest. He was calm, spoke softly, and carried himself with a quiet dignity. There were no traces of flamboyance or reckless indulgence that power often breeds. He seemed every inch the soldier burdened with the weight of responsibility.
Fast forward two decades. The same Kabila, who once stepped into leadership after his father’s brutal assassination and ruled the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) for 18 turbulent years, now finds himself condemned by a military court – sentenced to death.
The DRC is a land of paradox. Its soil is black and fertile, its bowels rich with gold, diamonds, cobalt, crude oil, and other resources the world desperately craves. Yet, its people remain shackled in poverty, disease, and cycles of war. Recurring Ebola outbreaks, ethnic militias, and political instability define the national narrative. Sometimes, one is forced to wonder: are these the results of external exploitation, or self-inflicted wounds of bad governance, greed, and tribal politics?
Kabila’s years in power were far from perfect. Allegations of corruption, authoritarianism, and suppression of opposition marked his tenure. Yet, he also oversaw a fragile transition that brought in his successor, Félix Tshisekedi. Now, that very successor has set up a military court that found Kabila culpable of crimes – and imposed the ultimate penalty.
But the question must be asked: is the death sentence of a former president healthy for the DRC? Justice must be done, but it must also be seen to strengthen the nation, not fracture it further. In societies as fragile as Congo’s, punishment can easily be misread as political vendetta. It risks deepening tribal divides, inflaming loyalties, and destabilizing a region already teetering on the edge.
Africa has seen this playbook before. Former Liberian president Charles Taylor was dragged before an international tribunal and imprisoned for war crimes. Libya’s Muammar Gaddafi was violently toppled and killed in a blaze of vengeance, leaving his country in permanent chaos. Blaise Compaoré of Burkina Faso, once celebrated as a revolutionary, was sentenced in absentia for the murder of Thomas Sankara. Even in Nigeria, the specter of coups and truncated leadership transitions still haunts national memory.
These stories reveal a dangerous pattern: leaders in Africa rarely leave power with dignity, and accountability often arrives not as justice but as retribution. While accountability is necessary, it must be carefully balanced with reconciliation. South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation model comes to mind – flawed as it was, it prevented the country from descending into endless cycles of revenge.
The tragedy of the DRC is not only its politics but also its natural wealth. Congo has been described as a “geological scandal,” so rich in minerals that it should be one of the most prosperous nations in the world. Instead, those riches have become its curse. Global powers, multinational corporations, and shadow networks of smugglers all benefit from Congo’s chaos. Each time the nation stumbles, someone profits from its instability. Kabila’s trial, then, cannot be understood in isolation from the broader web of interests – both internal and external – that keep the country weak.
This is where Africa must confront a deeper truth: leadership in many parts of the continent is treated as a fortress to be defended at all costs. Leaders believe that to lose power is to lose everything – wealth, dignity, even life itself. This is why incumbents manipulate constitutions, muzzle dissent, and refuse to step down. Kabila’s death sentence only reinforces that fear. What serving president will ever agree to hand over power peacefully if he believes a courtroom noose is waiting?
Civil society and ordinary Congolese must also play their part. Too often, politics in Africa is left to the politicians, while citizens either withdraw in despair or fan the flames of ethnic loyalty. If accountability is to work, it must be demanded by the people, not imposed by rival elites. The press, churches, grassroots movements, and youth organizations must insist on a justice system that is impartial, not a political weapon.
Joseph Kabila may have erred. He may deserve judgment. But the greater judgment is on Africa’s political systems that continue to feed instability, corruption, and tribalism, despite abundant resources. Until we fix that -until justice is rooted in fairness rather than factionalism -the cycle will repeat itself.
The way forward lies in strong institutions, impartial courts, and leaders who see power as stewardship, not personal property. It lies in Africa learning to punish corruption without weaponizing justice, to reconcile without whitewashing crimes.
As I remember that calm young man in Kinshasa, I wonder if this is how he imagined his story would end. Perhaps more importantly, I wonder if the DRC will seize this moment to build a future of stability – or slip once again into the familiar abyss of chaos.
