The definition of ethnicity and its application in Burundi represents a key stumbling block in the resolution of the country’s political crisis. Since 1990, successive power holders have elaborated fundamental documents (Charter of National Unity, Constitution, Convention of Government) and created institutions (Government of National Unity, political pluralism, National Reconciliation Commission) with the explicit goal of resolving the question of power sharing between Hutus and Tutsis. In this paper I wish to present the ethnic dilemma that confounds the democratic process, as well as the limits of initiatives undertaken to date.

The war that brought Laurent-Désiré Kabila and the AFDL (Alliance of the Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Congo/Zaire) into power in Kinshasa must be placed in the broader context of three conflicts—that of the Great Lakes, of course, which is the most immediately obvious, but also those of Sudan and Angola. The proximity of these unstable locations and the game of alliances (every actor uses the “my enemy’s enemy is my friend” logic) brought these conflicts together, creating a potential war zone from Asmara to Luanda. Zaire is the connection among these three wars: Mobutu’s government supported Khartoum’s regime against the South Sudanese guerrillas, in particular the SPLA, who are supported in turn by Asmara, Addis Ababa, and Kampala. Zaire’s territory served as a rear base for attacks by the diverse armed movements against Uganda, Rwanda, and Burundi.

“They call it a country. In fact it is just a Zaire-shaped hole in the middle of Africa,” wrote The Economist in 1995. Well before then, Erwin Blumenthal, who visited Zaire on behalf of the International Monetary Fund (IMF) to assess prospects for reform, warned that, despite promises from President Mobutu (1965-97) that loans would be repaid, “there is no—I repeat no—chance on the horizon that Zaire’s many creditors will recover their money.’ Meanwhile, Mobutu did not use loans to build state bureaucracies or provide services; he actively discouraged them. Even by official accounts, the modest spending of 10 percent of Zaire’s budget on education and health services in 1982 fell to zero a decade later.

Like many analyses of African politics, much of the criticism of Laurent Kabila, president of the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC, formerly Zaire), examines his personal use of power. His policies as president reflect his track record as a “leader”—some would say a warlord—in the eastern part of the country who based his activities on smuggling and an occasional kidnapping. His policies as president include banning political activities, banishing prominent opposition leaders—such as Etienne Tshisekedi, who led the fight against Mobutu longer than anyone else—and detaining journalists who criticize his government. Focusing on the individual leader leads to the conclusion, among many who favor a more just DRC, that they should try to tie Kabila’s hands and preclude him from proceeding down a path remarkably similar to Mobutu’s.

On May 17, 1997, the Alliance of Democratic Forces for the Liberation of the Congo (AFDL), led by Laurent-Désiré Kabila, took power in Kinshasa after a seven-month liberation war. According to the opinion of numerous observers, Kabila’s rebellion would be a saving act; it would distance the Congo from the specter of civil war toward which it was fatally headed. Ethnic opposition to the Mobutu regime was stirring. The rebellion would save the country from the claws of cynical politicians and from the political chasm they dug with the sovereign national conference, which created nonfunctional political institutions. Ten months after the new leaders were installed at Kinshasa, it is still too soon to evaluate their efforts to put the country back on its feet. But many praiseworthy initiatives, of which the Bulletin of the Congolese Press Agency daily informs us, touch all aspects of national life.

After at least five years of international isolation— almost 10 years in Belgium’s case—the Congo (formerly Zaire) is once again “visitable.” The “friends of the Congo” conference sponsored by the World Bank last December 3-4 sanctioned the beginning of normalization. Those attending were cautious since the meeting did not take place at the ministerial level and since the only help considered urgent concerned currency, transportation, and health. The Congolese government obtained a total of $120 million, the majority from the European Union (E.U.). This represents only about 10 percent of Kinshasa’s assessed reconstruction needs. For the rest, there will be another meeting in six months.

To the many tragedies in Africa since the end of the Cold War one may now add the civil war that devastated the Congo Republic from June to October 1997. This war not only ended Congo’s fragile experiment with democracy but also left some 10,000 Congolese citizens dead and countless more homeless, bereaved, or embittered. Artillery bombardment followed by looting destroyed much of Brazzaville’s inner city. Since seizing power in mid-October 1997, former (and again) president Dennis Sassou-Nguesso has only slowly restored public order. As of March 1998, only a few parts of town had partial phone service, water, and electricity. Congo’s long-delayed development is once again on hold as the new government grapples to restore basic services.

From June 5 to October 15, 1997, three years after the first urban guerrilla battles, conflicts reignited in Brazzaville. The recurrence of confrontation is an appropriate time to examine the social background of the most virulent actors in these battles, the militia. The first guerrillas were principally youths born in Brazzaville, while those of 1997 came from secondary cities. This being the case, it is legitimate to wonder about the dissemination of political violence in the Congo. This paper will reconstitute a chronology of the confrontations, analyze the militia, and explain the entry of Congolese youths into political violence.

Addressing the Organization of African Unity (OAU) on December 9, 1997, Secretary of State Madeleine Albright dispelled all possible doubts about the centrality of the Great Lakes region for U.S. African policy. And she left no illusions about the seriousness of the obstacles ahead: “Africa matters, and right now no place matters more in Africa than the Great Lakes. Achieving lasting peace will be as difficult as implementing the Camp David Agreement and as complex as sustaining the Dayton accords.”