The Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) is a country that sits on unimaginable wealth. Beneath its soil lie the rare minerals that fuel many technologies essential to the modern world: cobalt, coltan (a metallic ore high in niobium and tantalum), gold, copper, and diamonds which glitter in luxury markets. Yet, while the rest of the world reaps the benefits of these resources, Congolese citizens are trapped in a cycle of conflict, displacement, and unrelenting poverty. Today, Congo is not just facing one of Africa’s greatest crises; it is experiencing what the United Nations calls “one of the most acute humanitarian emergencies in the world.”

The lush, once-tranquil green hills of North Kivu and South Kivu provinces  have become battlegrounds. The M23 rebel group, backed by the neighboring state of Rwanda, has resurged with frightening strength. Their fighters march into towns like Goma and Bukavu along the Rwandan border, hoisting flags, declaring themselves as the new rulers, and setting up parallel administrations which challenge the authority of the central government. Civilians are left in fear, knowing too well the brutality that follows such takeovers: massacres, forced displacements, and recruitment of children into armed ranks.

The Congolese army — stretched thin and under-resourced — fights to reclaim control, yet peace remains elusive. In recent months, international mediators including the United States and Qatar have brokered talks, producing a draft peace agreement. On paper, it promises phased withdrawal of rebels and restoration of government authority. In reality, gunfire still echoes across the eastern hills, with each side accusing the other of violating ceasefires. The conflict is not only military; it is political, ethnic, and deeply tied to Congo’s mineral wealth.

The so-called “African World War” of the late 1990s, a conflict which killed millions — making it one of the deadliest since World War II — still haunts the nation. Even now, former leaders are being dragged into trials. Just this August, a military prosecutor demanded the death penalty for ex-President of Congo Joseph Kabila, finding him guilty of war crimes and insurrection. Kabila, once the face of post-war governance, is now seen by many as a symbol of impunity. Whether the trial is justice-served or politics-weaponized remains contested, but it highlights Congo’s struggle to reckon with its own leadership and the legitimacy of its institutions.

Statistics alone cannot capture the suffering of Congolese people but they are staggering: over 7 million people displaced, with civilian families living in makeshift camps where disease spreads faster than food aid arrives. Mothers walk for hours to find clean water; children miss school, their futures stolen before they’ve even begun. In one recent atrocity, more than 140 civilians — mostly the ethnic Hutu — were massacred, allegedly by M23 fighters. The rebels deny responsibility, but human rights groups paint a darker picture of deliberate ethnic violence.

The United Nations, Médecins Sans Frontières, and countless NGOs describe the situation as catastrophic. Hunger grows as conflict drives farmers from their fields. Malnutrition spreads among children. Clinics lack medicines. For those watching from afar, these tragedies may blend into the background noise of global crises. But for Congolese families, they are not headlines; they are everyday survival. 

One might ask: why should the world care? The answer lies not only in moral responsibility but also in self-interest. The DRC is the beating heart of the global supply chain. Nearly 70% of the world’s cobalt, critical for batteries in phones, laptops, and electric vehicles, comes from Congo. Its coltan, too, is indispensable to microchips. The conflict is not just local; it reverberates across continents every time a smartphone is built or an electric car rolls off an assembly line. If these mines are controlled by armed groups, then every device in our hands risks being tainted by “blood minerals,” mined through forced labor and violence.

Moreover, Congo’s instability threatens regional security. Rwanda’s alleged involvement in supporting rebels has already strained relations in East Africa. Neighboring countries Uganda and Burundi also have historical stakes in this conflict. Conflict which begins in Congo rarely stays in Congo, it spills across borders, igniting refugee crises and stirring old rivalries.

Minerals and borders are only part of the story. At the heart of Congo’s turmoil is a governance crisis. The trial of Joseph Kabila is emblematic: is the DRC finally confronting its leaders’ past crimes, or is justice being twisted into a political weapon? Trust in the government remains fragile. Citizens see corruption eating away at resources that could rebuild schools, hospitals, and roads. In such a vacuum, rebel groups and local militias find fertile ground to grow.

Perhaps the most haunting aspect of Congo’s tragedy is the silence. The heavily-covered wars in Ukraine and Gaza dominate headlines, while Congo’s suffering is relegated to footnotes. Yet, in scale and impact, the Congolese crisis is no less urgent. It is a crisis of forgotten people, of children growing up amid gunfire, and of families displaced again and again. The silence allows impunity to thrive both for warlords and for multinational corporations which profit from unchecked exploitation of Congo’s riches.

The Congo’s struggle matters because it embodies the paradox of modern globalization. The world’s most resource-rich country remains one of its poorest, its riches both a blessing and a curse. It matters because behind every statistic is a human life: someone who deserves safety, dignity, and opportunity. It matters because ignoring Congo is not just a moral failure but a practical one: instability there will ripple outward, touching our economies, our technologies, and our collective future.

Congo is at a crossroads. One path leads deeper into cycles of violence, exploitation, and silence. The other, though difficult, offers a chance for peace, justice, and shared prosperity. Which path it takes will depend not only on Congolese leaders and rebels but also on how the international community chooses to act or to look away.

Congo needs our voices, our attention, and most importantly, our protest.