Peacekeeping or Dependency? Why Congo’s Security Cannot Be Outsourced

For more than two decades, a familiar image has symbolized “peace” in Congo: blue helmets, white armored vehicles, convoys with the letters “UN” painted on their side.

For many outside observers, this image is reassuring. “The UN is there,” they say. “Peace is being kept.”

Inside the country, the perception is very different.

In Chapter 2 of The Rise of the Wazalendo, I start with a simple but uncomfortable truth: peacekeeping without a plan for self-keeping is just another form of occupation.

A Quarter-Century of Peacekeeping

The United Nations has maintained a continuous military presence in the Democratic Republic of Congo since 1999. First it was MONUC, then MONUSCO. Over more than 25 years, billions of dollars have been spent. At certain points, over 20,000 foreign troops have been deployed.

On paper, this is one of the most ambitious peacekeeping missions in history.

But look at the results:

• The number of armed groups in eastern Congo has grown from roughly 40 to over 120.

• Millions of civilians have been displaced; over 10 million civilians have been killed.

• Key cities and strategic territories have repeatedly fallen to rebellions.

• State authority has weakened in exactly the regions where peacekeepers are most present.

If we measure success not by the size of the mission but by the security of Congolese citizens, the verdict is clear: peacekeeping has managed the crisis, rather than resolving it.

Managing, Not Solving

Why?

Because MONUSCO was never designed to rebuild a sovereign security architecture. It was designed to contain violence.

Containment is very different from liberation.

Containment says: “We will prevent things from getting too bad.”
Liberation says: “We will build the capacity to defend ourselves.”

Over time, what began as an emergency intervention turned into a substitute for the state:

• UN troops patrolled areas where the national army should have been present.

• Humanitarian agencies provided services the state should have guaranteed.

• International actors took decisions about security priorities with limited Congolese input.

The message — intentional or not — was clear:

“You cannot protect yourselves. We will do it for you.”

This is how dependency takes root.

Outsourcing the First Duty of the State

The first duty of any state is to protect its people and its territory. When a state outsources this duty, even temporarily, it sends a dangerous signal to its citizens and its neighbors.

To its citizens: “We cannot defend you without foreigners.”
To its neighbors and enemies: “Our borders are open when the foreigners leave.”

The danger is not only military. It is psychological.

If generation after generation grows up seeing peacekeepers instead of a strong national army, they begin to associate security with external actors, not with their own Republic. The very idea of Congo as a sovereign defender of its land becomes weaker.

Congo’s experience shows that:

• You can rent foreign soldiers, but you cannot rent sovereignty.

• You can import peacekeepers, but you cannot import national pride.

• You can delegate tasks, but you cannot delegate responsibility for your own survival.

The Three Pillars — All Weakened

Every enduring republic rests on three security pillars:

1. Territorial control – The state must be present everywhere its flag flies.

2. Institutional legitimacy – Citizens must trust state institutions more than informal power brokers.

3. A professional security apparatus – Defense forces that serve the nation, not just a regime.

Congo’s collapse came when all three eroded at once:

• The army became politicized and underfunded.

• Borders and strategic regions were abandoned.

• Corruption replaced discipline.

• Ethnic and factional loyalties replaced national identity.

Into this vacuum stepped armed groups, foreign armies, private security companies — and UN peacekeepers.

Peacekeeping did not cause the collapse. But it froze it, instead of reversing it.

The Myth of the External Savior

There is a deeper danger in long-term peacekeeping: the myth of the external savior.

Many Congolese — especially in the younger generations — have been conditioned to believe that:

• Security is the UN’s responsibility.

• Reform is the international community’s decision.

• Protection will always come from outside.

At the same time, many international actors have become accustomed to seeing Congo as a permanent project — something to manage, study, “stabilize,” fund, and write reports about.

The result is tragic: everyone is busy, but nothing fundamentally changes.

As I write in the chapter:

“Peacekeeping without a plan for self-keeping is occupation by another name.”

Self-Keeping as a Doctrine

If peacekeeping is not enough, what is needed?

A new doctrine: self-keeping.

Self-keeping does not mean isolation or rejecting international help. It means that foreign assistance must be oriented toward building local capacity, not replacing it.

A self-keeping doctrine would say:

• International forces must have a clear, limited mandate and an exit strategy.

• Every foreign deployment must be paired with investment in national forces and institutions.

• No external actor should permanently substitute for the army, the police or the justice system.

• Indicators of success should include the reduction of dependency — not just the reduction of visible violence.

Most importantly, self-keeping requires a change in mindset. Congolese must internalize that security is a national duty, not an external service.

From Peacekeepers to Wazalendo

In recent years, we have seen a different image emerge in Congo: not blue helmets, but ordinary citizens — Wazalendo — taking up positions to defend their communities against foreign-backed rebels.

This phenomenon is not perfect, and it carries risks. But it sends a powerful message:

“We refuse to be spectators of our own dismemberment.”

The task now is to transform this raw energy into a disciplined, professional, accountable force that integrates with the national security architecture. That is one of the goals of the SMCO model — Service Militaire & Civil Obligatoire — proposed in this book.

Self-keeping means:

• Reclaiming the monopoly of legitimate force.

• Rebuilding a professional army and police.

• Ensuring that every province feels protected by its own citizens within a national framework.

• Ending the idea that Congo’s map must always be supervised by foreign troops.

A Message to the Future

The presence of peacekeepers in Congo will one day end. The question is not if, but how.

Will they leave behind a state that has learned to walk on its own feet?
Or will they leave a vacuum that others will rush to fill — as happened after previous foreign withdrawals?

The answer depends on the choices we make today:

• To accept or reject permanent dependency

• To continue outsourcing security or to build self-keeping

• To wait for others — or to rise as Wazalendo

No foreign soldier will love Congo more than a Congolese.
No external mission will value our sovereignty more than we do.

Peacekeeping can buy time.
But only self-keeping can build a future.