By: Juba Global News Network
December 10, 2025

Up in the misty hills and along the lakefront avenues of eastern Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), it really feels like the so-called U.S.-brokered peace is barely hanging on. Just days after President Felix Tshisekedi and Rwanda’s Paul Kagame shook hands on a historic deal in Washington—under the watchful eye of U.S. President Donald Trump, no less—Rwanda-backed M23 rebels have stormed into the crucial port city of Uvira. The fighters, claiming they’d “liberated” the town on December 10, set off a full-blown humanitarian disaster, forcing over 200,000 people from their homes and killing at least 74 civilians in a blitz that really highlights the huge gap between political handshakes and what’s happening on the ground.

Gunfire still echoes across Lake Tanganyika, and refugees keep streaming into Burundi. So, that leaves everyone wondering: Can Trump’s so-called “miracle” deal really survive the M23’s relentless momentum? Here, we dig into the offensive’s roots, the chaos still unfolding, and those geopolitical tremors that are shaking the entire Great Lakes region.

The Spark: From Deadlock to Sudden Onslaught

This 2025 Uvira offensive by M23 really marks a wild comeback in a conflict that’s been festering for more than thirty years, with millions dead and tens of millions displaced. M23 started up in 2012 as a mutiny within the Congolese army—named for the date of its founding—and has always accused Kinshasa of neglecting ethnic Tutsis and failing to shield them from Hutu militias, those linked to the perpetrators of Rwanda’s 1994 genocide. Kigali’s support, which the Rwandan government denies even as it justifies “defensive” deployments, has turned M23 from a rebel offshoot into a real powerhouse controlling large areas of mineral-rich North and South Kivu.

If you trace the timeline, you see a rapid unraveling. The frontlines had held steady since March 2025, after M23 seized Bukavu, the capital of South Kivu, the month before. But then, on December 1—right as Trump was pushing his peace deal—the rebels reignited their offensive, quickly taking Luvungi, a vital frontline town, by December 9. Brutal fighting broke out near Sange and Kiliba, villages along National Route 5, where Congolese FARDC troops, Wazalendo militias, and their Burundian allies tried, in vain, to mount a defense. By December 10, M23 fighters were already marching into northern Uvira, barely challenged, as government lines just fell apart and there were even reports of infighting among FARDC and Wazalendo.

Lawrence Kanyuka, the spokesperson for the Alliance Fleuve Congo (AFC) coalition that includes M23, declared Uvira “liberated” on social media, claiming the assault was revenge for “months of attacks on local citizens” by Congolese forces. But residents have a different story: “It’s chaos, nobody’s running the show. Uvira is finished,” a Burundian officer confided to reporters while artillery roared and shops stood closed. Videos all over social media show lines of armed fighters moving in as soldiers run away, with claims of captured Burundian troops only inflaming the region further. The UN’s latest report lists at least 74 civilian deaths, 83 injured, and widespread use of so-called “drones kamikaze” on civilian targets.

The Fragile Washington Accord: Just a Mirage?

The timing of M23’s offensive isn’t just coincidental—it seems downright calculated. On December 3, Tshisekedi and Kagame, flanked by Trump, signed a peace framework in Washington, committing Rwanda to end support for armed groups and both nations to participate in Doha-led talks. Trump called it a “miracle”—Burundi’s President Évariste Ndayishimiye was even there, promising stability for the region. And yet, fighting resumed almost instantly, with Kinshasa accusing Kigali of deliberately wrecking the deal.

DRC’s Government Spokesperson Patrick Muyaya called the offensive a “violation délibérée” of the ceasefire, demanding sanctions and promising a “front populaire” mobilization. The U.S. State Department basically echoed this, insisting Rwanda “must prevent further escalation,” and the International Contact Group (the U.S., EU countries, and others) condemned the violence, demanding an immediate stop. Burundi, which sees the loss of Uvira—just 20 kilometers from Bujumbura—as an “existential threat,” closed off border posts and declared them “military zones.” Meanwhile, M23 leader Bertrand Bisimwa reaffirmed support for Qatari-brokered talks but spun the advance as self-defense.

Analysts call Uvira’s seizure a “big gain” for M23, saying it gives them control over South Kivu’s key cities and strengthens their position at the negotiating table.

Humanitarian Catastrophe: 200,000 Forced to Flee

Uvira’s fall has sent shockwaves of despair through the region. The UN’s humanitarian office (OCHA) reports that over 200,000 people have been forced to flee since December 1. Many have crossed into Burundi’s Gatumba camp—now packed with nearly 10,000 people, including armed FARDC and Wazalendo soldiers mixed in among civilians. Refugees from the Congo describe relentless shelling and drone attacks as “engins de la mort,” with Muyaya reporting over 100 civilian deaths already. Burundi’s closed borders have left thousands stranded, making food shortages even worse in an area already ravaged by conflict and home to 1.2 million displaced people.

Aid organizations warn that refugee camps are overwhelmed, and locals are sounding the alarm about fighters sneaking in among the displaced. Women and children, who make up about 60% of those on the run, are facing heightened risks of sexual violence and disease outbreaks, according to UNHCR figures. Uvira’s port on Lake Tanganyika—a lifeline for trade and military supply—is now at risk of turning into a rebel base, possibly setting the stage for advances outside South Kivu.

Deeper Fault Lines: Rwanda’s Shadow and Regional Shockwaves

At its heart, the Uvira crisis stands in for deeper, unresolved issues. Rwanda claims it’s threatened by the FDLR—Hutu militias that include wanted genocide fugitives—which it uses as justification for interventions. The DRC, on the other hand, accuses Kigali of looting coltan, gold, and cobalt worth billions. UN reports confirm that thousands of RDF troops are fighting alongside M23, which only adds fuel to Kinshasa’s “agression rwandaise” narrative.

On a regional level, Burundi’s Foreign Minister Edouard Bizimana called the M23 advance a “slap in the face,” especially after Burundian troops reportedly suffered serious losses before retreating. And then there’s the alleged Rwandan skirmish at the Cibitoke border, which injured civilians and pushed tensions even higher. The U.S. and EU are promising enforcement, but after Trump’s big peace-signing moment, his silence now is pretty telling.

The Road Ahead: From Chaos to Uncertain Plans

With Uvira in their grasp, M23’s control over eastern DRC’s main cities is more solid than ever, possibly opening the door to moves on Butembo or even deeper into Burundi. Kinshasa is vowing counterattacks, but with its army falling apart, there’s an obvious need for serious reforms. Diplomatic options—like the Doha talks and new sanctions—are on the table, but experts warn this could turn into a proxy nightmare without African Union mediation.

For Uvira’s 700,000 residents—whether they fish on Tanganyika’s shores or mine in the shadowy hills—this fight is existential. If there’s any hope, it lies in unity: Congolese people mobilizing, neighbors held accountable, and the international community showing real resolve. In the end, Uvira’s collapse in the wake of Trump’s deal is a stark reminder that peace in the Great Lakes isn’t just about signatures—it’s about putting aside weapons and finally tackling old wounds. For the 100 million people living in the region, this is a matter of survival. The world can’t just stand by, or else those lake waters might end up running red again.

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