When Kagame Travels Abroad, Fighting Intensifies in the DRC: A Strategy to Deny His Involvement

One of the most troubling and recurring patterns in the conflict in the eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo is the intensification of fighting whenever Rwandan President Paul Kagame is travelling abroad. This coincidence, observed for more than twenty years, raises serious questions about Rwanda's political and diplomatic strategy in the region. For many analysts, diplomats, researchers and human rights organisations, this dynamic is not a coincidence at all: it forms part of a calculated approach designed to blur the lines, create a diplomatic smokescreen, and allow Rwanda to deny any direct responsibility for the offensives carried out by groups affiliated with it, particularly the M23.

Whenever Kagame participates in international summits, speaks on peace and security issues, or seeks to strengthen economic ties with Western partners, a surge in violence is observed on the ground. Attacks intensify, Congolese army positions are targeted, towns and villages are taken by force, thousands of civilians flee, and UN expert reports often confirm, months later, that these military operations were supported by Rwandan units. Yet while fighting rages, Kagame is on international stages giving speeches on stability and cooperation, projecting an image of distance between himself and the actions taking place on the battlefield.

This strategy relies first on a central objective: managing Rwanda's international image. Since the end of the 1994 genocide, Kigali has built a reputation as an efficient, disciplined, modernising state, committed to regional stability. This image—carefully cultivated through extensive communication campaigns, strong alliances with Western capitals, and active presence in global forums—forms the basis of the diplomatic protection Rwanda enjoys. Any direct military operation in the DRC would jeopardise this façade and undermine the confidence certain partners continue to place in Rwanda. It therefore becomes essential for Kigali to maintain the appearance of distance between the Rwandan government and the armed groups operating in Congo.

When Kagame travels, this distance becomes easier to exploit. The logic is simple: how could he be involved in military actions if he is thousands of kilometres away, engaged in high-level diplomatic meetings? The argument, although deceptive, still convinces some international observers—especially those who prefer not to openly accuse a strategic ally in peacekeeping missions, counter-terrorism cooperation, or economic partnerships. In reality, military decisions do not require the physical presence of the head of state; chains of command, especially in a highly centralised political system like Rwanda's, operate independently of the president's physical location.

A second important dimension is Rwanda's desire to strengthen its position in regional negotiations. Each time Kigali faces diplomatic pressure regarding its role in the Congolese crisis, a surge in fighting occurs. The objective is clear: to create a balance of power that allows Rwanda to return to peace talks with a strategic advantage. The more the security situation deteriorates in the DRC, the more Kigali appears indispensable to any peace solution. This is a form of geopolitical blackmail: destabilise in order to become necessary.

When Kagame is abroad, this mechanism becomes even more effective. Far from the battlefield, he can present himself as a reasonable mediator, a leader committed to peace, while forces aligned with Rwanda advance militarily, seize new mining areas, control commercial routes or displace entire populations. The territorial gains achieved during these periods reinforce Rwanda's position in international discussions while allowing it to maintain control over the illicit exploitation of Congolese resources.

A third factor is the use of the M23 as an indirect military arm. Rwanda systematically denies any support to the group despite overwhelming evidence—uniforms, sophisticated equipment, military drones, intercepted radio communications, testimonies of deserters, and UN expert analyses. By intensifying attacks when Kagame is travelling, Kigali seeks to reinforce the illusion that the operations are conducted independently by a rebel group. This helps maintain the argument that Rwanda has no direct control over them. It becomes more difficult to prove direct, real-time support even though Kigali continues to reap strategic and economic benefits from the presence of the M23 in eastern Congo.

This strategy also has a psychological dimension. Congolese populations—often well aware of this pattern—see it as a form of political cynicism of the highest order: while Kagame is applauded on the international stage, their villages are bombed, their relatives killed or displaced. This contradiction deepens the frustration and sense of abandonment felt by Congolese civilians, who believe, with reason, that their suffering is invisible to the rest of the world. The timing of the offensives during Kagame's trips also reinforces the perception of impunity: he travels freely and is welcomed globally while forces linked to Rwanda operate violently on the ground.

From a military standpoint, the intensification of combat during Kagame's foreign travel can also be seen as a way to test the international community's reaction. If no strong condemnation follows, Kigali concludes that it can continue its operations without risk of serious sanctions. For more than two decades, the absence of decisive action against Rwanda's interference in the DRC has encouraged this strategy. Neither the UN Security Council, nor the African Union, nor Western partners have taken sufficiently dissuasive measures to force Kigali to end its support for armed groups.

Lastly, this dynamic is reinforced by the structure of the Rwandan political and military system. Decisions are highly centralised, but their execution is routine and does not require the president's physical presence. Rwanda's military and economic networks in eastern Congo function like a well-organised machine that can be activated at any moment. Kagame's foreign trips simply provide a convenient narrative cover.

Thus, the intensification of fighting in the DRC during Kagame's travels is neither a coincidence nor an isolated phenomenon. It is part of a sophisticated political strategy that combines indirect military expansion, diplomatic protection and strategic concealment. As long as the international community accepts this ambiguity and turns a blind eye to recurrent evidence of Rwandan support for armed groups, this pattern will continue. Congo will continue to pay the human, territorial and economic price, while Rwanda maintains the strategic advantage it has learned to exploit with calculated precision.