BREAKDOWN: DRC — Tshisekedi Moves to Rewrite the Constitution for a Third Term, With the M23 Crisis as Cover

Introduction: The Constitutional Coup That Dares Not Speak Its Name

A President in a Hurry, a Democracy Under Pressure

On June 15, 2026, the Senate of the Democratic Republic of Congo adopted, with the unanimous vote of 89 senators present, a bill enabling the organization of a constitutional referendum. At first glance, a routine procedural vote. In reality, a blaring alarm for anyone who takes seriously the idea that African democracy deserves to be defended. This text — already passed on June 9 by the National Assembly, boycotted by the opposition — concretely opens the path to a third term for Félix Tshisekedi, in contempt of the entrenched provisions of the 2006 Constitution. Only the president's signature remains. A formality, without a doubt.

The DRC, a country of 100 million people, rich in a subsoil that makes the great powers salivate, is sinking into a major political crisis. In the east, the armed movement M23, backed by Paul Kagame's Rwanda, still controls swaths of North and South Kivu. The ceasefire remains fragile. And meanwhile, in Kinshasa, security forces gas and baton protesters who dare to march against the reform bill. Welcome to the Democratic Republic of Congo, June 2026.

Tshisekedi: The Former Opponent Who Became What He Fought

There is a cruel, almost unbearable irony in this affair. Félix Tshisekedi, son of the revered opposition figure Étienne Tshisekedi, built his entire political legitimacy on fighting the excesses of Joseph Kabila's power — notably when Kabila attempted, between 2015 and 2016, to cling to power through a similar constitutional maneuver. At the time, Tshisekedi thundered against the institutional coup. Today, he is orchestrating one.

According to the analysis published by the Critical Threat Project (CTP) on June 18, 2026, Tshisekedi had begun laying the political groundwork for a constitutional change as early as late 2024. In October 2024, he publicly announced his intention to revise the Constitution. Since then, the machinery has been set in motion, methodically, with escalating brutality. The scenario is now clear, as researcher Ithiel Batumike Mihigo of the Congolese analysis center Ebuteli summarizes: "The president's scenario for staying in power is now very clear, and he wants to move fast."

The Mechanics of the Coup: How to Circumvent Article 220

A Constitutional Lock Built Precisely for This

The Congolese Constitution of 2006, the painful product of a decade of civil war and political transition, is not an ordinary text. It was written to prevent exactly what is happening today. Its Article 220 places among the entrenched provisions — meaning impossible to revise — the limitation on the number and duration of presidential terms. Neither Parliament nor even a referendum can, in theory, touch this article. It is a constitutional lock, a democratic safeguard established after decades of dictatorship — first under Mobutu Sese Seko, then under Laurent-Désiré Kabila.

Article 219 goes even further: it prohibits any constitutional revision during a period of war or martial law. The DRC is, precisely, in a state of active armed conflict in its eastern provinces. These two articles seemed to make any third-term project legally impossible. That reckoned without the creativity of lawyers in the service of power, and the complaisance of a Parliament dominated by an overwhelming majority by Tshisekedi's coalition, the Sacred Union of the Nation (USN).

The Device: The "Major Institutional Dysfunction"

The bill adopted in June introduces an ingenious and dangerous mechanism. It authorizes the president to trigger a constitutional revision if a "major institutional dysfunction" has occurred — a deliberately vague notion, undefined in the text. If this threshold is deemed reached, Parliament transforms into a constituent assembly, drafts a new Constitution, which is then submitted to a popular referendum. This new Constitution can then cover "any matter of fundamental importance to the life of the nation" — including, obviously, resetting the presidential term counter to zero.

What this mechanism achieves in practice is a total bypass of Article 220. The ruling coalition does not claim to revise Article 220 — it claims to replace it entirely with a new Constitution. Opponents and Congolese lawyers call it what it is: a "constitutional fraud" or, in the more direct terms of opposition leaders, a "constitutional coup." According to the CTP, the bill also gives Tshisekedi the power to trigger the referendum by decree, whenever he deems it opportune — possibly as early as fall 2026.

June 2026 in Kinshasa: The Streets Say No, Power Answers with Force

June 12: A Demonstration Dispersed with Bloodshed

On June 12, 2026, at least a thousand opposition supporters gathered in Kinshasa to march toward Parliament, in defiance of a government ban. They were protesting the referendum law. What they encountered was predictable to anyone familiar with the regime's authoritarian tradition: armored vehicles, riot trucks, water cannons, tear gas. More gravely still, members of the Forces du progrès — a youth militia linked to UDPS, Tshisekedi's party — were seen among the forces dispersing protesters, armed with bladed weapons.

The toll is heavy. According to Prince Epenge Wemakoko, president of the Action for Democracy and Development of Congo, at least 70 people were wounded and two died. Among the seriously injured are prominent opposition figures: Martin Fayulu (former presidential candidate), Jean-Marc Kabund, and Delly Sesanga. The latter reportedly took a bullet to the leg, according to his communications team. Fayulu's party headquarters were vandalized and looted by UDPS members. The European Union condemned the violence, deploring the deaths and serious injuries, and reaffirmed the obligation to respect the freedom to demonstrate peacefully.

The Opposition Refuses to Capitulate

In the face of repression, opposition parties have strengthened their coordination. The C64 coalition — Coalition Article 64, formed in May 2026 around Article 64 of the Constitution — which calls on Congolese citizens to resist any power exercised in violation of the Constitution — announced a national peaceful march for July 8, 2026, toward the presidential palace. Martin Fayulu declared that "Tshisekedi has betrayed his oath to respect the Constitution and therefore no longer has any legitimacy." Congolese intelligence services reportedly also arrested political activists in the days following the June 12 march.

Congolese protesters have a long memory. In 2016, it was a similar popular mobilization that forced Kabila to renounce a third term. The opposition is betting on this previous victory. The great unknown is whether Tshisekedi — who has a larger parliamentary majority, a security agreement with the United States, and a more resolute repression than Kabila at the outset — will stop as his predecessor did. Nothing is less certain.

The War Argument: The M23 as a Convenient Alibi

The Eastern War Serves the Western Power

Tshisekedi and his allies have drawn a direct link between the security crisis in the east and the necessity of amending the Constitution. The argument is simple: you cannot hold elections when part of the territory is occupied. "If this war cannot be ended, unfortunately we will not be able to hold elections in 2028," Tshisekedi declared in May 2026. This conditionality is convenient: it allows him to justify both the possible postponement of the 2028 vote and the "necessity" of constitutional reform to stabilize the country.

The problem is that this argument does not survive scrutiny. As the CTP notes with cutting precision in its June 18, 2026 analysis, Tshisekedi himself was reelected for a second term in the elections of late December 2023 — when the M23 crisis was already raging, albeit at a somewhat lower intensity. The conflict was there. The elections took place. The contradiction is glaring.

A Window of Opportunity Seized Amid the M23's Retreat

The paradox runs even deeper. It is precisely the relative improvement in the security situation since early 2026 that allowed Tshisekedi to relaunch his constitutional project. The M23's offensive in South Kivu was slowed thanks in part to American sanctions and diplomatic pressure from Washington on Kigali and the M23. Tshisekedi then saw a window open. According to the CTP, in this new balance of forces he judges favorable, the president decided to "move fast," as Ithiel Batumike Mihigo explains.

In March 2026, the UDPS secretary-general, Augustin Kabuya, removed all doubt about the regime's intentions at a meeting with party officials in Kinete: "Rest assured, we will amend this Constitution." The war rhetoric was no longer being used to delay the project — it was now being used to justify it. Researchers at Brussels' Egmont Institute had already warned that the constitutional project was tied to the UDPS's ambitions — a party long kept from power under previous regimes — to consolidate its dominance for decades.

Kagame's Rwanda and the M23: An Occupation Under Cover

Rwandan Support for the M23: Facts, Not Allegations

Discussing the Congolese political crisis without addressing the role of Rwanda would be intellectual dishonesty. The M23 — the March 23 Movement — is, according to every serious analysis available, a proxy force of Paul Kagame. Human Rights Watch, in its report of June 17, 2026, states this without ambiguity: Rwanda supports the M23 through logistical, material, and troop assistance. This support is such that HRW considers Rwanda an occupying power in eastern Congo — with all the implications that carries for criminal responsibility for human rights violations committed by the M23.

The "General" Sultani Makenga, military commander of the M23, appeared before thousands of recruits at the Tshanzu training camp in February 2026 and told them: "You are now part of an army that has risen to liberate the country and truly free the people." What this heroic speech does not say: the executions, brutal punishments, children snatched from their schools to be forcibly enlisted. Civilians, police officers, teachers, students — some as young as 12 years old — were rounded up in streets, churches, and hospitals to be sent to these training and indoctrination camps.

The Impunity of the Camps: A Crime That Persists

A 25-year-old construction worker, abducted in Goma in March 2025 while buying mobile phone credit, testified to HRW: "It's a test of how much suffering you can endure. We were 200; 10 died. Two were shot, the others beaten to death. We buried them in a mass grave with about 50 others." Hundreds of detainees probably died in these camps throughout 2025, according to HRW. Members of a force whose sponsors signed peace agreements in Washington.

The peace agreements signed in June and December 2025 — the second during a ceremony at the White House presided over by Donald Trump — included commitments to withdraw Rwandan troops. According to HRW, no indicator suggests the conflict is truly over. In Montreux, Switzerland, a new round of talks produced on June 18, 2026 a memorandum on a ceasefire monitoring mechanism and humanitarian commitments. Prisoners are to be released within ten days. But previous agreements have not held. Why would this one be different?

Trump, the Minerals, and the "Green Light" for a Third Term

The Diplomacy of Natural Resources

Donald Trump did not declare peace in Congo out of love for peace. He did so because the DRC sits atop one of the world's largest concentrations of critical minerals: cobalt, coltan, lithium, among others. These minerals are indispensable for electric batteries, defense technologies, and semiconductors. The United States does not want to leave China in control of access to them. The economic and security agreement signed between Washington and Kinshasa in December 2025 gives American companies preferential access to Congolese critical minerals in exchange for security guarantees and political support.

This deal carries a corollary that diplomats mention carefully but analysts put in full view. According to a European diplomat quoted by Le Monde on June 16, 2026: "Félix Tshisekedi is convinced that Washington sees him as the guarantor of future American investors' contracts and therefore that he has their green light for a third term, to ensure continuity of negotiations and investment security." Stability for American investors means, in this calculation, stability of the current leader — even at the cost of Congolese democracy.

Trump "Declared Peace" — the Reality Rebuts the Slogans

The title of HRW's June 17, 2026 article is implacable: "Trump Declared Peace in Congo. This Is the Reality." The reality is that while Rwandan leaders traveled to Washington to negotiate peace agreements and mining conventions, the M23 was rounding up civilians in streets, schools, and hospitals to send them to forced training camps. Tshisekedi advances his "peace for minerals" logic by arguing that the constitutional reforms demanded by Washington justify revising the basic law — though his critics point out that what the Americans actually demanded concerns primarily anti-corruption measures and fiscal reforms, not a reshaping of the political system.

The timing is also telling. According to multiple diplomats and analysts cited by Le Monde, Tshisekedi is looking to hold the constitutional referendum before the American midterm elections on November 3, 2026. The objective: cement the result while Trump is still in power, before a potential change of administration that could reverse American policies favorable to Kinshasa. Congolese domestic politics are hostage to an American electoral calculation. History has known more glorious democratic foundations.

The 2006 Constitution: Why This Text Really Matters

A Text Born of a Decade of Wars' Pain

The Congolese Constitution of February 18, 2006 did not fall from the sky. It is the direct fruit of a laborious peace process that ended what is sometimes called the "African World War" — the two Congo wars that involved half a dozen countries and caused between three and five million direct and indirect deaths between 1996 and 2003. The Pretoria comprehensive and inclusive agreement, which preceded the Constitution, and the text itself represent a fragile but precious compromise among parties that had been killing one another.

Tshisekedi claims this Constitution was "written by foreigners." According to the CTP, this is a false claim. It is also a cynical argument, designed to destabilize popular attachment to a foundational text. By calling the Constitution imported and ill-suited to "Congolese realities," the regime attempts to delegitimize it without confronting its content — notably Article 220, which stands in the way of its ambitions. The argument of national sovereignty is here being hijacked in the service of one man's hold on power.

What the Churches and Civil Society Are Saying Clearly

In the face of the revision project, the Catholic and Protestant Churches issued a joint communiqué warning against any attempt to revise Article 220, which they called a "frontal attack on democratic gains." The citizen movement LUCHA (Struggle for Change) denounced an attempt at "institutional derailment" designed to hand President Tshisekedi a permanent lease on power. These voices are not those of politicians seeking power: they are the guardians of civic conscience, comparable to what the same institutions had been in 2016 against Kabila.

Former minister and parliamentarian Claudel-André Lubaya, now in exile, told RFI that Tshisekedi had "effectively announced his intention to violate the fundamental laws of the country." Nicolas Lenga, of the opposition party Envol, was even more direct at a press conference in Kinshasa in May 2026, calling the constitutional initiative an "act of rebellion against the Republic and a declaration of war on the Congolese people," and invoking Article 64 of the Constitution, which calls on citizens to resist any power exercised unconstitutionally.

The Kabila Precedent: History Stuttering

2016: The Streets Said No, Kabila Backed Down

The comparison with Joseph Kabila imposes itself on any serious analyst of Congolese politics. In 2015–2016, Kabila had attempted a similar maneuver to remain in power beyond his second constitutional term. He used technical and institutional arguments to justify postponing elections. The streets responded with mass demonstrations, fiercely repressed. In Kinshasa as in Goma, dozens of people died in clashes. And yet, under the combined pressure of the streets, the Churches, civil society, and the international community, Kabila ultimately relented — organizing in December 2018 elections in which Tshisekedi himself emerged as winner under murky circumstances.

This collective memory is the opposition's main asset. The C64 coalition invokes it explicitly. It bets that the Congolese people — who said no to Kabila — will say no to Tshisekedi. But the conditions have changed. Tshisekedi has a larger parliamentary majority, a bilateral agreement with the United States that grants him circumstantial international legitimacy, and an apparently more determined repression than Kabila's at the outset. The comparison with 2016 is reassuring — but it should not breed complacency.

Tshisekedi Against Tshisekedi: The Archives Are Merciless

There is an abundance of public statements in which Félix Tshisekedi, when he was in the opposition, vigorously defended respect for the Constitution, term limits, and the sacred character of Article 220. These archives are now political weapons in his adversaries' hands. They reveal not an ideological evolution but raw political opportunism: principles stop where the logic of power begins. Tshisekedi is not the first African leader to commit this betrayal of himself. He probably will not be the last. But in his case, the gap between past speech and present action is particularly wide.

In early March 2026, UDPS chief Augustin Kabuya publicly declared that the party would seek to amend the Constitution and that "there would be no discussion about a potential successor for Tshisekedi." This formulation says everything. One does not seek a successor because one does not envision one. In the vocabulary of authoritarian regimes, this type of phrase is called a declaration of intent.

The M23's Secession Threat: The Trap Closes

The M23 Brandishes Independence if the Constitution Changes

The dynamic between the internal political crisis and the armed conflict in the east is more complex than it appears. In early June 2026, sources within the M23 told French magazine Jeune Afrique that the armed movement was considering declaring independence if Tshisekedi amends the Constitution. This declaration is not disinterested — it looks like political blackmail as much as a military red line. It nevertheless reveals that the constitutional amendment is not perceived, even by the warring actors, as a mere Kinshasa institutional quarrel: it strikes at the fundamental balances of the country as a whole.

This threat places Tshisekedi in a rhetorical trap. If he advances on constitutional reform, he risks an escalation in the east. If he retreats, he appears weak before his own supporters. He has chosen — for now — to advance. His reading of the situation, according to his analysts, is that the United States will not allow the M23 to go as far as declaring independence, as that would destabilize American mining investments in the region. This is a risky geopolitical bet, based on trust in the durability of the agreement with Trump — a man whose commitments have a notorious shelf life.

Montreux: Promising Talks Against a Backdrop of Deep Mistrust

On the military and humanitarian front, the Montreux, Switzerland talks produced on June 18, 2026 formal commitments between the Congolese government and the M23: facilitation of humanitarian aid, civilian protection, release of prisoners within ten days, and signing of a memorandum to establish a ceasefire monitoring mechanism. These advances are real, but they fit a familiar pattern: agreements signed, commitments made, and a ground reality that does not follow.

Human Rights Watch noted that just before these talks, both parties were still blocking humanitarian aid deliveries and preventing civilians from fleeing the South Kivu highlands. The US State Department welcomed the commitments, framing them within a strategy of progressive agreements. But as HRW notes, there is no real transitional justice process: M23 commanders responsible for grave human rights violations continue to move freely, recruit, and command. Impunity is the fuel of violence.

The Sacred Union and the Mechanics of Parliamentary Domination

A Parliament Under Orders

The referendum law was passed by 89 senators out of 89 present, without a single vote against. 20 senators did not participate. The National Assembly had voted "near-unanimously" on June 9. The opposition boycotted both processes — which explains these figures. This parliament is not a deliberative chamber; it is a rubber stamp. The Sacred Union of the Nation coalition dominates both chambers with a majority that leaves the opposition structurally incapable of expressing effective resistance.

This parliamentary dominance has been methodically constructed. Since late 2025, Tshisekedi's allies have systematically sidelined officials perceived as uncooperative or as obstacles to the constitutional project. The Congolese Parliament has become the tool of a power strategy, not the space for democratic debate. Senate President Jean-Michel Sama Lukonde welcomed the vote, declaring it gave Congolese citizens a framework to "exercise their sovereignty." The irony of calling popular sovereignty a vote boycotted by the opposition and adopted unanimously in a monolithic chamber is not lost on observers.

The Joint Committee: A Formality Disguised as Procedure

A mixed joint committee of senators and deputies must in principle convene to harmonize the texts adopted by both chambers. It is a mandatory procedural step. But given the "overwhelming dominance" of the ruling coalition in both chambers — to borrow Le Monde's phrasing — this committee is anything but a real deliberation. The outcome is known in advance. The law will be promulgated by Tshisekedi — who may be waiting for the most opportune political and diplomatic moment to do so.

What this institutional architecture reveals is that Congolese democracy rests on very fragile foundations: a Constitution solid on paper, but whose institutional guardians — Parliament, Constitutional Court — have been progressively aligned with the executive's interests. In this context, the only real resistance comes from the streets, the Churches, and an opposition that no longer has an institutional platform. This balance of forces is not favorable.

The "American Reforms" Argument: When Washington Provides Cover

Instrumentalizing the US-Congo Partnership

One of the regime's cleverest lines of defense consists of presenting the constitutional revision as an obligation flowing from the economic and security partnership signed with the United States. The argument: Washington demands reforms to access minerals, and those reforms require amending the constitutional framework. Tshisekedi thus declared that constitutional revision was necessary to implement "certain reforms" requested by the United States to advance the US-Congo partnership.

The problem, as Congolese critics and CTP analysts note, is that the reforms actually demanded by Washington in this framework concern primarily fiscal measures and anti-corruption efforts — not a complete overhaul of the political system. Tshisekedi has extended the notion of "constitutional reform" far beyond what the partnership actually required, to have it cover his project of staying in power. It is a semantic sleight of hand that would not fool a first-year law student, but which suffices in mass political communication.

The Egmont Institute Warns of Ethnic Power Consolidation

The Egmont Institute in Brussels offered a complementary and deeper reading of the Congolese constitutional project. According to this institute, the project is linked not only to Tshisekedi's personal ambitions, but more broadly to the ambitions of the UDPS — a party long kept from power under Mobutu and Kabila regimes — and its social and community base identifying with the Kasai region. The stake is not just a third term for one man: it is the consolidation of power for decades for a political formation and community that perceive themselves as having been long excluded.

This reading does not change the anti-democratic nature of the maneuver. But it enriches it. It explains the intransigence of the Tshisekedi camp, the resolve with which it advances despite criticism, and the scale of the resistance it generates in other political and geographic communities across the country. The DRC is a constellation of regional and ethnic identities. Any attempt to permanently concentrate power around a single community — whatever it may be — is a recipe for instability.

The Opposition Between Hope and Exhaustion

Fayulu, Sesanga, Kabund: Wounded Resisters

The figureheads of the Congolese opposition are also men who carry the physical marks of their resistance. Martin Fayulu, unsuccessful presidential candidate in 2018 — whom a large portion of Congolese and international opinion considers the true winner — was wounded during the June 12 dispersal. Delly Sesanga, according to his communications team, took a bullet to the leg. Jean-Marc Kabund, former Tshisekedi ally turned declared opponent, was also hit. These figures are far from perfect — Kabund himself is a turncoat — but their physical resistance to the third-term project is real and courageous.

Martin Fayulu declared to Africanews on June 17, 2026: "Tshisekedi has betrayed his oath to respect the Constitution and therefore no longer has any legitimacy." This formulation goes to the heart of the problem. A president who violates his inaugural oath does not merely lose a legal battle — he loses the moral right to govern. The Congolese opposition is choosing to play on the ground of constitutional legitimacy. It is a choice consistent with the country's political tradition, but it assumes that still-independent institutions — notably the Constitutional Court — will play their role. Nothing is less certain.

The July 8 March: A Test of Historic Mobilization

The Article 64 Coalition announced a national march for July 8, 2026, toward the presidential palace. This is a direct and symbolic challenge to power. If mobilization is massive, it will send a powerful signal that the Congolese people do not accept the confiscation of their democracy — as they did not accept it in 2016. If it is violently suppressed, it will raise the question of the international response with new acuity.

The risk for the opposition is twofold: exhaustion and repression. Authoritarian regimes know how to wait. They let demonstrations follow one another, reducing their political cost through controlled information, until mobilization runs out of steam or violence deters the most vulnerable. The Congolese opposition needs, to succeed, both sustained popular mobilization and strong international pressure. For now, the second is sorely lacking.

Europe Facing the DRC: Between Principles and Interests

The EU's Minimal Condemnation

The European Union responded to the June 12 violence with a statement "deploring the violent events of June 12 in Kinshasa, as well as the deaths and serious injuries." It recalled that "an inclusive democratic space implies commitment to fundamental freedoms, including the freedom to demonstrate peacefully within the framework of the law." This is correct. It is also deeply insufficient. A depletion statement does not stop a militia armed with machetes. It does not prevent an intelligence service from arresting activists. It does not deter a president from promulgating an unconstitutional law.

HRW explicitly called on other countries, including the European Union and the United Kingdom, to follow the United States' example by imposing sanctions on Rwandan and M23 officials implicated in human rights violations. This is not a new HRW position — but in the context of June 2026, it takes on particular resonance. The EU has levers: cooperation, development aid, trade agreements, targeted sanctions. It is not deploying them with the same resolve its declared values would require.

A Strategic Partnership That Tests the West's Coherence

The DRC represents a coherence test for the West. On one side, Western democracies never stop declaring that the defense of democracy and human rights is at the heart of their foreign policy. On the other, they sign preferential mineral access agreements with a regime that represses protesters, silences the opposition, and is preparing to demolish its own Constitution. This contradiction is not new — but it becomes increasingly difficult to justify as the facts grow undeniable.

The value of Congolese critical minerals for the energy transition and technological competition with China is real and strategic. That is not sufficient reason to look away from what is happening in Kinshasa. The West's long-term interests — including regional stability, the legitimacy of economic partnerships, and the credibility of its declared values — would be better served by a firmer policy. A regime held together by force always ends up collapsing, and the collapse is rarely clean.

Conclusion: Congolese Democracy at a Crossroads

A Country Tested by Its Own Contradictions

The DRC is an extraordinarily complex country, traversed by fractures of every kind — geographic, ethnic, economic, security-related. Its democracy has always been fragile, battered, imperfect. But the 2006 Constitution, with its entrenched locks, represented a serious attempt to build durable safeguards against the abuse of power. What Tshisekedi is doing — with the complicity of an aligned Parliament, the calculated tolerance of Washington, and the habitual softness of the EU — is demolishing these safeguards from within. This is not reform. This is regression.

The coming weeks will be decisive. The presidential signature of the referendum law, the potential triggering of a referendum timeline, the streets' response on July 8, the international position — all of this will play out before the end of summer 2026. African history is full of moments when a constitutional coup was stopped cold by popular mobilization. It is also full of moments when it was not. The difference is never written in advance.

What the Future Demands of Each

For Congolese citizens, the stake is maintaining strong and peaceful civic pressure, drawing on the memory of 2016 and the constitutional legitimacy that the regime cannot erase. For the international community — and in particular for the United States and the EU — the stake is holding the line between immediate mineral interests and value coherence that is also, in the long run, the best guarantor of regional stability. For Tshisekedi himself, a door remains open: that of respecting his term limits, handing over power in 2028, and entering history as a president who resisted the temptation — rather than as one who succumbed to the same corruption of power as his predecessors.

But actions speak louder than hopes. The referendum bill has been passed. The machinery is in motion. And in Kinshasa, two people died for having marched toward their Parliament carrying a banner for democracy. That reality is not negotiable. It is to be named.

Sources

Primary Sources

Critical Threat Project — Africa File: Tshisekedi, constitutional reform, M23, and Rwanda — June 18, 2026

Human Rights Watch — Trump Declared Peace in Congo. This Is the Reality — June 17, 2026

El-Balad — Montreux (Switzerland) talks between DRC and M23 on humanitarian access — June 18, 2026

Secondary Sources

Le Monde — In DRC, Félix Tshisekedi eyes a third term at the risk of a confrontation with the streets — June 16, 2026

Africanews — Senate votes on referendum, opposition demands Tshisekedi's resignation — June 17, 2026

The Washington Post — Congolese opposition condemns bill paving way for Tshisekedi third term — June 16, 2026

AllAfrica — DR Congo Referendum Bill Intensifies Constitutional Standoff — June 12, 2026

US News & World Report — Congolese security forces disperse protesters opposing constitutional change — June 12, 2026