From President to Foreign Spy? The Stunning Allegations Against Joseph Kabila

A Nation’s Reckoning: Inside the Historic Espionage Trial of Joseph Kabila and the $24.7 Billion Demand for Justice

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In a landmark hearing that has sent shockwaves through the Democratic Republic of Congo and beyond, the High Military Court in Kinshasa is now the stage for a trial of unprecedented scale and consequence. Lawyers for the Congolese state have delivered a devastating plea, not merely to prosecute former president Joseph Kabila, but to fundamentally dismantle his legacy. In an audacious legal manoeuvre, they demand the charges be reclassified from treason to espionage, alleging he is not Congolese but the Rwandan national Hippolyte Kanambe. Further, they have presented a meticulously itemised bill for $24.7 billion in reparations—quantifying decades of conflict and pillage in the eastern provinces of Ituri, North Kivu, and South Kivu—and called for the global confiscation of all his assets. This case, shrouded in the unresolved assassination of human rights activist Floribert Chebeya and testimony from insiders like Ngoy Kena, represents a watershed moment. It tests the independence of Congo’s institutions and forces a nation long plagued by impunity to ask: can it truly heal without holding the most powerful to account? This is more than a trial; it is a profound struggle for the soul of the Congo.

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The 20 Key Points of the Landmark Plea

1. A Foundational Challenge: Deconstructing Treason in the Kabila Trial

   In the high-stakes theatre of the High Military Court in Kinshasa, the collective of lawyers representing the Congolese state began not with a detailed account of alleged crimes, but with a far more profound and audacious move. They aimed their opening salvo at the very legal foundation of the prosecution’s case, seeking to dismantle the charge of “treason” itself. This strategy is a masterful example of a legal gambit designed to reframe the entire narrative of the trial. As a timeless Congolese adage goes, “You cannot shake a hand that has no arm.” In essence, you cannot hold someone accountable under a law that, by its very definition, does not apply to them. This is the precise principle upon which the lawyers built their first and most explosive argument.

   The Legal Bedrock of Treason in the DRC

   Under the Congolese legal system, particularly as it pertains to crimes against the state, the crime of treason (trahison) is not a universal concept that can be applied to any individual. Its legal definition is intrinsically tied to the concept of citizenship and allegiance. The law explicitly states that treason can only be committed by a Congolese national. The crime is one of betrayal—a violation of the sacred duty of loyalty and fidelity that a citizen owes to their nation. It is the ultimate breach of trust from within.

   An individual who is not Congolese owes no such inherent allegiance to the state. Therefore, their actions, no matter how hostile or damaging, cannot be legally construed as “treason” in the eyes of Congolese law. They would be classified under different statutes, such as espionage, sabotage, or acts of aggression by a foreign national.

   The Lawyers’ Gambit: Reclassifying the Defendant

   The legal team’s argument was therefore both simple and radical:

   1. The Law Requires a Congolese Perpetrator: The charge of treason is legally invalid if the defendant is not a Congolese citizen.

   2. The Defendant is Not Congolese: We will prove that Joseph Kabila is not, and has never been, a Congolese citizen.

   3. Therefore, the Charge Must Fall: Consequently, the court must dismiss the charge of treason.

   By pursuing this line, the lawyers accomplished several strategic objectives at once. They immediately put the prosecution on the back foot, forcing them to defend a basic premise—Kabila’s citizenship—that was previously taken for granted. More importantly, they laid the groundwork for the far more damaging accusation of espionage.

   From Traitor to Spy: The Power of Reclassification

   This reclassification is not mere semantics; it fundamentally alters the nature of the alleged crimes and their implications for the nation.

   • A Traitor is a internal cancer—a trusted member of the body politic who turns against it. Their punishment is for betrayal.

   • A Foreign Spy is an external threat who has infiltrated the highest echelons of power. Their actions are not of betrayal from within, but of aggression from a foreign power executed from inside.

   This framing is devastating. It transforms the narrative from one of a corrupt leader who failed his people to one of a deliberate, long-term operation by a hostile foreign agent to plunder and destabilise the nation from its very core. It paints the eighteen years of Kabila’s presidency not as poor governance, but as a sophisticated, state-level act of economic and military warfare against the DRC.

   The Adage in Action: “You cannot shake a hand that has no arm.”

   This Congolese proverb perfectly encapsulates the lawyers’ foundational challenge. The “hand” in this metaphor represents the long arm of the Congolese law regarding treason. It is designed to reach out and grasp—to hold accountable—those citizens who have betrayed their oath.

   The lawyers’ argument is that Joseph Kabila, as alleged foreign national Hippolyte Kanambe, is a man “with no arm”; he exists outside the body of the Congolese citizenry to which this specific law applies. Therefore, the court cannot “shake” him with this charge. It cannot grasp him with the law of treason because he was never truly a part of the body he is accused of betraying.

   The prosecution, therefore, must now do one of two things: either prove incontrovertibly that Joseph Kabila is a Congolese citizen by legal right (beyond just holding a passport or ID card, which the lawyers claim were fraudulently obtained), or see its primary charge evaporate, leaving the case to rest on the even more complex and grave charge of espionage. This foundational challenge has successfully forced the trial to confront the deepest questions of identity, belonging, and sovereignty before a single piece of evidence about acts of betrayal has even been examined.

2. The Question of Identity: At the Heart of the Kabila Trial Lies a National Existential Crisis

   In the solemn arena of the High Military Court in Kinshasa, the lawyers for the Congolese state detonated a legal bombshell not with a complex piece of evidence, but with a simple, searing question: “Are we sure… that the defendant who called himself Kabila Kabange and Joseph… is Congolese?”

   

This query strikes at the very core of the trial and taps into one of the most persistent and politically charged rumours in modern Congolese history. It moves the proceedings beyond a mere prosecution of alleged crimes and into the fraught territory of identity, legitimacy, and the very definition of Congolese nationhood. To understand its power, one must consider a common Congolese adage: “A river that forgets its source will eventually run dry.” This case is an attempt to force the river—the narrative of Joseph Kabila’s life and rule—to return to its disputed source.

The Legal Weight of the Question

In British law, the place of one’s birth (jus soli) or the nationality of one’s parents (jus sanguinis) typically establishes citizenship. The Democratic Republic of Congo operates on a similar principle. The lawyers’ argument hinges on the claim that the man known as Joseph Kabila cannot definitively prove his citizenship through either of these routes.

Their challenge is profound:

1. Beyond a Passport or Title: They argue that holding a Congolese passport, identity card, or even the office of the presidency does not, in itself, constitute legal proof of Congolese nationality. These documents, they contend, can be obtained through administrative manipulation or fraud. True legal nationality, they posit, is proven by a “certificate of nationality,” a fundamental document they allege the defendant lacks.

2. The Burden of Proof: By raising this question, they subtly shift the burden of proof. It is no longer the state solely proving acts of treason; it suddenly becomes imperative for the defence to first prove their client’s incontrovertible right to be called Congolese. It is a masterful defensive manoeuvre played from an offensive position.

The Alternative Narrative: Hippolyte Kanambe

The lawyers did not merely ask the question; they provided an answer. They presented to the court the alternative identity of Hippolyte Kanambe, alleged to be a Rwandan national born to Marcelline and Christopher Kanambe. This narrative suggests that the late President Laurent-Désiré Kabila, upon the death of Christopher Kanambe, took the young boy in—a “sociological adoption” without any legal formalities.

This story is not new; it has circulated in the Congolese rumour mill and opposition discourse for over two decades. However, its presentation in a formal court of law, under the weight of judicial procedure, gives it an unprecedented gravity. The reference to the assassination of the human rights activist Floribert Chebeya—who was investigating this very issue—adds a layer of sinister implication, suggesting that seeking the truth of this source has historically been a deadly pursuit.

The Adage Explained: “A river that forgets its source will eventually run dry.”

This proverb is deeply resonant in this context. The “river” is Joseph Kabila’s political life and power, which flowed through the Congolese state for nearly two decades. The “source” is his true origin and identity.

• The Prosecution’s Use of the Adage: The lawyers are arguing that Kabila’s power, though vast, was built on a falsehood—a forgotten or obscured source. They contend that because his authority was not rooted in the legitimate soil of Congolese citizenship (the true “source”), it was ultimately corrosive and destructive, leading the nation towards the “dry” state of conflict, economic pillage, and instability they now blame him for.

• A National Reflection: The adage also challenges the nation itself. It implies that a country that does not diligently scrutinise the origins and legitimacy of its leaders—that forgets to ask these hard questions—risks its own vitality and survival. The trial, therefore, becomes the nation’s attempt to rediscover a contested source to understand two decades of its own history.

The High Stakes of the Identity Question

This is more than a legal technicality. If the court were to even entertain the idea that the lawyers’ claims have merit, the implications are tectonic:

1. Legitimacy of an Era: It would call into question the legitimacy of every law, decree, and official act signed by President Kabila during his 18-year rule. Could a foreign national legally hold the office?

2. A National Psyche: For a country whose recent history has been defined by wars involving neighbouring powers, particularly Rwanda, the idea that the nation was led by a Rwandan agent would be a catastrophic blow to the national psyche, confirming the deepest and most painful suspicions of many citizens.

3. The Future of Justice: It sets a monumental precedent. It establishes that in the DRC, no one, no matter how powerful, is above being asked the most fundamental question of all: “Who are you, and by what right do you lead us?”

The question of identity has become the trial’s central pillar. It is a legal strategy, a political earthquake, and a profound national moment of introspection, all distilled into one devastatingly simple query posed in a Kinshasa courtroom.

1. Legal vs. Practical Proof: The Battle for Joseph Kabila’s Soul

   In the charged atmosphere of the High Military Court in Kinshasa, the lawyers for the Congolese state introduced a critical distinction that forms the bedrock of their case against Joseph Kabila: the chasm between legal proof and practical proof of nationality. This argument is far more than a legal technicality; it is a philosophical assault on the legitimacy of Kabila’s entire political identity, leveraging a deep-seated cultural understanding of authority and authenticity.

   The legal team’s contention is stark: holding a passport, an identity card, or even the highest public office in the land constitutes only practical, everyday proof of nationality. These are administrative artefacts that can, they allege, be fraudulently obtained by those with sufficient power and influence. True, incontrovertible legal proof, they argue, resides in one fundamental document: the “certificate of nationality” (certificat de nationalité).

   This distinction taps into a powerful Congolese worldview, perfectly encapsulated by the adage: “The goat eats where it is tethered.” (“La chèvre broute là où elle est attachée”).

   Deconstructing “Practical Proof” – The Illusion of Legitimacy

   The defence collective systematically sought to dismantle the practical proofs that have allowed Joseph Kabila to function as a Congolese citizen and president for decades.

   1. The Passport and ID Card: They argue that these documents are evidence of nationality, not the source of it. They are issued by the state based on a pre-existing claim to citizenship. If the initial claim is fraudulent—if the biographical details (place of birth, parentage) provided were false—then the resulting documents are also fraudulent. They are, in essence, a beautifully crafted identity built on a foundation of sand. The lawyers allege that Kabila’s entire administrative identity was a construct, a “close identity” created for him by powerful allies, as hinted at by the alleged testimony of former governor Ngoy Kena.

   2. Holding Public Office: This is perhaps their most audacious argument. They contend that occupying the presidency does not sanctify or retroactively validate one’s nationality. Instead, they invert the logic: if the nationality was fraudulent from the start, then the assumption of the presidency was the ultimate act of that fraud, not its validation. It is the equivalent of a brilliantly executed deception, where the highest office in the land becomes the primary tool for masking the alleged deceit.

   The Primacy of “Legal Proof” – The Certificate of Nationality

   In contrast to these “practical” items, the lawyers posit the “certificate of nationality” as the gold standard of legal proof. This document is not merely administrative; it is declaratory and constitutive in nature. It is the formal, judicial recognition by the Congolese state that an individual is legally tied to the nation, typically through birth on the territory (jus soli) or through Congolese parentage (jus sanguinis).

   The demand for this certificate is a demand to go back to the absolute beginning—to the source of the right to be called Congolese. It is a demand for a verifiable, paper-trailed origin story that can withstand scrutiny. By stating that Kabila lacks this, the lawyers are not just saying his documents are fake; they are asserting he has no legitimate claim to the Congolese identity he has professed his entire life.

   The Adage Explained: “The goat eats where it is tethered.”

   This common Congolese proverb is profoundly insightful in this context. It speaks to an inherent and undeniable connection between an entity and its source of sustenance and belonging.

   • The Goat: This represents the individual, Joseph Kabila.

   • Where it is Tethered: This is the source of its identity, nourishment, and legitimacy—its true origin.

   The adage implies a natural, undeniable truth: an entity’s nature and rights are defined by its origin. A goat cannot truthfully claim to be tethered in one village if it is, in fact, feeding from the fields of another.

   The lawyers wield this adage as a devastating metaphor. They argue:

   • The Practical Proof (the passport, the presidency) is like seeing a goat eating in a particular field. One might assume it is tethered there.

   • The Legal Proof (the certificate of nationality) is the actual stake in the ground to which its tether is tied, proving definitively where it belongs.

   Their allegation is that Joseph Kabila has been “eating” from the Congolese state—drawing power, authority, and wealth from it—but was never truly “tethered” to it by right of legitimate origin. They claim his true “tether” lies across the border in Rwanda, making him a foreign agent who consumed the resources of a nation that was not his own.

   This argument resonates deeply on a cultural level. It frames the complex legal issue in a simple, relatable terms of authenticity and rightful belonging. It transforms the trial from a dry legal debate into a story of a fundamental disconnect between appearance and reality, between the identity one performs and the identity one has a rightful claim to. The burden, they conclude, is on the defendant to produce the “stake”—the certificate—that proves he was truly tethered to Congo all along.

2. An Alternative Biography: The Spectre of Hippolyte Kanambe in the Courtroom

   In the High Military Court of Kinshasa, the lawyers for the Congolese state did not merely present a legal argument; they presented a ghost. They summoned an alternative identity, a shadow narrative that has haunted Congolese politics for over two decades, and placed it at the very centre of the judicial process. This was the meticulously detailed presentation of Joseph Kabila as Hippolyte Kanambe, an alleged Rwandan national and the biological son of Marcelline and Christopher Kanambe.

   This manoeuvre was arguably the most dramatic moment of the trial, transforming the proceedings from a prosecution into an inquest into the defendant’s very soul. To understand its profound cultural and legal impact, one must consider a powerful Congolese adage: “A tree that grows crooked will never straighten its trunk.” (“Un arbre qui a poussé de travers ne peut jamais redresser son tronc”). This proverb speaks to the immutable nature of origin; what you are at your core defines you, and a false beginning cannot lead to an upright end.

   Deconstructing the Official Narrative

   The official biography of Joseph Kabila is well-documented: the son of the rebel leader Laurent-Désiré Kabila, born in the fiery heart of the Bush War in Hewa Bora, Ankoro, in 1971. He was raised in the struggle, educated abroad, and returned to become a military leader, succeeding his father after his assassination in 2001.

   The lawyers’ alternative biography directly contests this origin story. They presented a counter-narrative:

   1. Hippolyte Kanambe: They identified the defendant by this name, alleging this was his birth identity.

   2. Rwandan Parentage: They named his biological parents as Marcelline and Christopher Kanambe, citizens of Rwanda.

   3. Sociological Adoption: The story posits that following the death of Christopher Kanambe, the young boy was taken in by Laurent-Désiré Kabila. This was a “sociological adoption”—an informal arrangement based on care and cohabitation, not a legal adoption process through the courts. This is a critical distinction, as a legal adoption would have conferred Congolese citizenship; a sociological one does not.

   The Legal and Political Weight of the Alternative Biography

   This was not presented as mere gossip. The legal team anchored it in the courtroom with specific, grave references:

   • The DNA Demand: They highlighted that the biological children of Laurent-Désiré Kabila have long demanded a DNA test to settle the matter—a request Joseph Kabila has consistently refused. In the context of a trial, such a refusal is framed not as a privacy issue, but as an evasion of truth.

   • The Chebeya Assassination: By referencing the murder of human rights activist Floribert Chebeya, who was investigating these claims, the lawyers imbued their alternative biography with a sinister gravity. They implied that the pursuit of this truth has been met with the ultimate silence, suggesting a cover-up of immense proportions.

   The purpose of introducing “Hippolyte Kanambe” was twofold:

   1. To Invalidiate the Charge of Treason: As established, treason requires Congolese citizenship. If the defendant is Hippolyte Kanambe from Rwanda, he cannot be a traitor to Congo. This reclassifies his alleged actions as espionage—the deeds of a foreign agent working for a hostile power.

   2. To Recontextualise Two Decades of Power: It reframes his entire presidency. Policies, wars, and economic dealings are no longer seen through the lens of a flawed national leader, but through the lens of a foreign infiltrator acting against the interests of the state. It provides a motive for alleged betrayal that is existential rather than merely corrupt.

   The Adage Explained: “A tree that grows crooked will never straighten its trunk.”

   This proverb is the philosophical bedrock of the lawyers’ entire alternative biography argument.

   • The Crooked Tree: The “crooked tree” represents the alleged false origin of Joseph Kabila. The defence claims his true trunk—his core identity as Hippolyte Kanambe of Rwanda—was bent and hidden from the very beginning. A tree cannot change its fundamental nature; it can only grow according to its original genetic blueprint and the soil in which it was first planted.

   • The Immutable Trunk: The lawyers argue that despite being grafted onto the powerful “tree” of the Kabila name and placed in the fertile “soil” of the Congolese presidency, the essential nature of “Hippolyte Kanambe” remained. The alleged plunder of resources, the facilitation of foreign influence, and the instability in the east are, in this narrative, the natural, inevitable growth of a tree that was never truly Congolese. It could never “straighten its trunk” to grow upright in the service of the nation because its roots were elsewhere.

   This argument resonates deeply in a culture that places immense value on lineage, origin, and knowing one’s true place. It reduces a complex political history to a simple, powerful story of fundamental, inborn identity. By presenting the biography of Hippolyte Kanambe, the lawyers are not just offering an alternative fact; they are inviting the court and the nation to believe that they have finally discovered the true, crooked trunk from which the last twenty years of history have grown.

3. A Story of Adoption: The Legal Limbo of a “Sociological” Son

   Within the High Military Court of Kinshasa, the alternative biography of Joseph Kabila hinges on a crucial and nuanced concept: that of a “sociological adoption.” This is not a minor detail but the pivotal hinge upon which the entire argument swings. It is the mechanism by which the lawyers explain how a boy allegedly named Hippolyte Kanambe could become known to the world as Joseph Kabila, without ever formally becoming his legal son.

   This distinction between the social and the legal is where the case finds its fascinating complexity. To grasp its profound significance in the Congolese setting, one can turn to a deeply resonant adage: “L’habit ne fait pas le moine.” (“The habit does not make the monk”). This French proverb, widely used in DRC, perfectly captures the essence of the lawyers’ argument: appearance and reality are not the same; wearing the robes of a monk does not confer the inner devotion, just as bearing a name does not confer the legal right to it.

   What is a “Sociological Adoption”?

   In the context of Congolese society, a “sociological adoption” refers to an informal, culturally recognised arrangement where a child is taken in and raised by an individual or family who are not their biological parents. This practice is common across many African societies, often within extended families or close-knit community structures.

   • It is based on care and cohabitation: The child lives with the adoptive figure, takes their name, and is presented to society as their own. They are treated as a family member.

   • It is not based on law: Crucially, this arrangement is typically not formalised through the courts. It does not involve a judicial decree, the termination of the biological parents’ legal rights, or the granting of new inheritance or citizenship rights to the child. It is a social fact, not a legal one.

   The Lawyers’ Narrative: Laurent-Désiré Kabila and the Young Kanambe

   The legal team’s narrative applies this concept to the case:

   1. An Act of Compassion or Convenience: Following the death of the boy’s alleged biological father, Christopher Kanambe, the narrative claims Laurent-Désiré Kabila (L-D Kabila) took in the young Hippolyte. This could have been an act of solidarity towards a comrade’s widow (Marcelline) or a strategic decision to raise a child he favoured.

   2. A New Name, A New Life: The boy began to be introduced and raised as “Joseph Kabila.” He lived within the Kabila household, fought with his rebellion, and was presented to the world as his son. Sociologically, within their inner circle and later to the public, he was a Kabila.

   3. The Deliberate Legal Void: The lawyers allege this adoption was never made legal. There was no formal, court-approved adoption process. This omission is presented not as an oversight, but as a necessary part of maintaining the deception, as a legal process would have required documentation—birth certificates, parental consent, and judicial scrutiny—that could have exposed the child’s true origins.

   The Adage Explained: “The habit does not make the monk.”

   This proverb is the perfect lens through which to view this argument.

   • The Habit: This represents the name “Kabila,” the military title, the presidential office, and the public identity that Joseph Kabila wore for decades. It is the outward appearance, the robe that presented him to the world as the son of a revolutionary and the rightful leader of Congo.

   • The Monk: This represents the immutable legal and biological truth. To be the legal son of Laurent-Désiré Kabila would confer Congolese citizenship by descent (jus sanguinis). It would confer inheritance rights and, most importantly, the legitimate right to the political legacy.

   The lawyers’ devastating conclusion is that Joseph Kabila wore the habit of a Kabila but was never, in the eyes of the law, the monk. He had the appearance without the essential, legal substance. He played the part but lacked the authentic papers to back it up.

   The Legal Consequences of a “Sociological” Versus a “Legal” Adoption

   This distinction is everything for the trial:

   • A Legal Adoption: If L-D Kabila had legally adopted Hippolyte Kanambe through the Congolese courts, the child would have legally become his son. He would have been entitled to a new birth certificate identifying L-D Kabila as his father, and he would have inherited his Congolese citizenship. The current trial’s central argument would collapse.

   • A Sociological Adoption: Because the adoption was merely sociological, the lawyers argue, it changed nothing in the eyes of the law. Hippolyte Kanambe remained, legally, the son of Christopher and Marcelline Kanambe. If they were Rwandan, then he was Rwandan. The name “Joseph Kabila” was a pseudonym, a nom de guerre, a costume—but it did not change his fundamental legal identity.

   Therefore, this story of adoption is not a heartwarming tale of a child saved from hardship. In the hands of the prosecution, it is the foundational evidence for a case of monumental fraud. It is the explanation for how a foreign national could allegedly be grafted onto the most powerful political family in the country and, from that position of usurped authority, act not as a son of Congo, but as a agent of a foreign power. The sociological adoption, they contend, was the gateway for espionage.

4. The DNA Controversy: The Test That Could End a Nation’s Doubt

   In the tense theatre of the High Military Court in Kinshasa, the lawyers for the Congolese state wielded a powerful and deeply personal weapon: the unresolved question of Joseph Kabila’s paternity. They highlighted a fact that has simmered in the background of Congolese politics for years—that the biological children of the late President Laurent-Désiré Kabila have publicly demanded a DNA test to conclusively prove or disprove his familial lineage, a request the former president has consistently and steadfastly refused.

   This is not a mere familial squabble; it is a controversy with profound implications for national identity, legitimacy, and justice. To understand its cultural weight, one must consider a potent Congolese adage: “Truth is like a palm nut; it can be buried, but it will never rot.” (“La vérité est comme la noix de palme; on peut l’enterrer, mais elle ne pourrit jamais.”) This speaks to the enduring, indestructible nature of truth—it may be hidden from view, but it remains intact, waiting to be uncovered.

   The Core of the Controversy

   The controversy is stark in its simplicity:

   1. The Demand: Certain members of the Kabila family, most notably the children of Laurent-Désiré Kabila (L-D Kabila) from his other relationships, have cast public doubt on Joseph Kabila’s paternity. They have called for a modern, scientific arbiter—a DNA test—to settle the matter once and for all.

   2. The Refusal: Joseph Kabila has never consented to such a test. His refusal is multifaceted, framed by his supporters as a defence of his dignity, a refusal to bow to baseless insults, and a stance that his record as a head of state should be proof enough of his legitimacy.

   The Legal and Symbolic Power of the Demand

   In the context of the trial, the lawyers’ reference to this unresolved issue is a masterful strategic move.

   • Shifting the Burden of Proof: By raising the DNA demand, the prosecution subtly shifts the burden of proof. The message to the court and the public is: “The simplest way to silence these damaging allegations and prove his Congolese heritage once and for all exists. He alone refuses to use it. What does he have to hide?” It paints his refusal not as a principled stand, but as an admission of guilt by omission.

   • Undermining Moral Authority: In a society where lineage and respect for one’s elders are paramount, a public dispute within the “royal family” of Congolese politics is deeply damaging. It suggests a fundamental fracture and a hidden truth within the very dynasty that led the country for nearly two decades.

   Linking to the Chebeya Assassination

   The lawyers’ argument takes on a far more sinister tone when linked to the assassination of human rights activist Floribert Chebeya. Chebeya was investigating, among other things, the rumours surrounding Kabila’s origins. His murder, which remains a stark symbol of impunity for the powerful in the DRC, is presented as evidence of the extreme lengths taken to keep this particular “palm nut” buried. The implication is clear: seeking this truth has been met with the ultimate punishment.

   The Adage Explained: “Truth is like a palm nut; it can be buried, but it will never rot.”

   This proverb is the perfect metaphor for the DNA test controversy.

   • The Palm Nut: The undeniable, biological truth of Joseph Kabila’s paternity is the palm nut. It is a hard, factual kernel of data that exists, independent of politics, power, or propaganda.

   • Buried, But Not Rotten: For over twenty years, this truth has been “buried.” It has been obscured by the immense power of the presidency, hidden behind a wall of official narratives, state security, and public refusal. The refusal to take a DNA test is the active, ongoing act of burying this nut.

   • It Will Never Rot: The lawyers, and indeed much of the Congolese public, believe that the truth remains intact. It has not “rotted” or disappeared simply because it is out of sight. A DNA test, should it ever happen, would be the act of digging up the palm nut to reveal it unchanged, in its raw and unvarnished state.

   The controversy, therefore, transcends the courtroom. It represents a national yearning for a definitive end to a saga that has plagued the country’s politics for a generation. The DNA test is portrayed as the one instrument capable of cutting through decades of rumour, allegation, and obfuscation to deliver a binary, scientific truth.

   For the court, the continued refusal is presented not just as a personal choice, but as a deliberate obstruction of justice. It allows the prosecution to build a compelling narrative: that a man who would not use the simplest tool to prove his rightful place as a son of Congo must, by logical extension, have something to fear from the truth itself. In this high-stakes trial, the buried palm nut has become the symbol of a nation’s quest for final, undeniable clarity.

5. Linking to an Activist’s Death: The Shadow of Floribert Chebeya Over the Trial

   In the High Military Court of Kinshasa, the lawyers for the Congolese state made a calculated and chilling move. They did not just present legal arguments; they invoked a ghost. They darkly referenced the brutal 2010 assassination of Floribert Chebeya Bahizire, the renowned and respected Congolese human rights activist, suggesting his murder was intrinsically linked to his investigation into the very issue at the heart of the trial: Joseph Kabila’s origins.

   This was more than a rhetorical flourish; it was a deliberate strategy to frame the current legal proceedings within a long-standing narrative of violence, impunity, and the deadly cost of seeking truth in the Democratic Republic of Congo. To understand the profound gravity of this reference, one must consider a sombre Congolese adage: “When the elephant steps on a twig, it is not because it is angry with the twig, but because it does not see it.” This proverb speaks to the absolute, careless power of the mighty and the inconsequential way they can obliterate what stands in their path.

   Who was Floribert Chebeya?

   Floribert Chebeya was not just an activist; he was an institution. As the head of the prominent NGO La Voix des Sans-Voix (The Voice of the Voiceless), he was one of the most courageous and persistent human rights defenders in the DRC. For decades, he documented atrocities, challenged abuses of power by the state security services, and fearlessly spoke truth to power, regardless of the regime in place. His credibility was his armour, and his death sent a shockwave of terror through civil society.

   The Circumstances of His Murder

   In June 2010, Chebeya was summoned to police headquarters in Kinshasa for a meeting with the then-police chief, General John Numbi. He was never seen alive again. His body was found the next day in his car, staged to look like a suicide—a claim universally dismissed. His driver, Fidèle Bazana Edadi, was also killed and his body disappeared, never to be found. The crime was widely condemned internationally and seen as a political assassination designed to silence a formidable critic.

   The Link to the Kabila Origins Investigation

   The lawyers’ pivotal claim is that at the time of his death, Chebeya was actively investigating the rumours surrounding Joseph Kabila’s parentage and true nationality. He was reportedly gathering evidence and testimony to either confirm or debunk the persistent narrative that Kabila was not the biological son of Laurent-Désiré Kabila.

   By referencing this, the legal team achieves several powerful objectives:

   1. It Establishes a Pattern of Brutal Suppression: They argue that seeking the truth about Kabila’s identity is not just a matter of legal curiosity but an endeavour that has historically been met with extreme and lethal violence. It transforms the current trial from an isolated event into the latest chapter in a long and bloody struggle for answers.

   2. It Implicates by Association: While no direct evidence linking Joseph Kabila to ordering the hit has been proven in court, the reference creates a powerful, dark implication. It suggests that the former president had a motive to silence this particular line of inquiry permanently. The murder of Chebeya is presented as the ultimate act of covering up the alleged “original sin” of a false identity.

   3. It Highlights the Courage of the Current Proceedings: By invoking Chebeya’s name, the lawyers pay homage to his legacy and implicitly frame their own work as continuing his dangerous quest. It underscores the immense personal risk they and their witnesses are taking by raising these same questions in a formal setting.

   The Adage Explained: “When the elephant steps on a twig, it is not because it is angry with the twig, but because it does not see it.”

   This proverb is devastatingly apt in explaining the significance of Chebeya’s death in this context.

   • The Elephant: This represents the immense, crushing power of the state apparatus—the presidency, the security services, and the system of impunity that protects them. It is a force of overwhelming and careless power.

   • The Twig: This is Floribert Chebeya. He was a single man, an activist, a “twig” in terms of raw power compared to the “elephant” of the state.

   The profound tragedy captured by the adage is that the elephant did not need to be angry with the twig. It did not need a personal vendetta. Chebeya’s investigation was simply an obstacle in its path—a small, inconvenient truth that needed to be removed. His elimination was, in this narrative, an act of casual, brutal efficiency by a power so vast it did not need to see the humanity of the individual it destroyed. It was about maintaining a foundational narrative at any cost.

   By linking Chebeya’s assassination to the trial, the lawyers are arguing that the question of Kabila’s identity is so central to his claim to power that its protection justified the most extreme measures. The ghost of Floribert Chebeya in the courtroom serves as a stark reminder of what is at stake: not just a legal verdict, but a nation’s long-overdue reckoning with a past where those who sought truth were treated as disposable twigs under the feet of elephants.

6. Testimony from a Former Insider: Ngoy Kena and the Architecture of an Identity

   In the meticulously constructed case before the High Military Court in Kinshasa, the lawyers for the Congolese state introduced a witness whose alleged testimony provides a startling and seemingly insider’s glimpse into the mechanics of the alleged deception. They cited claims from Ngoy Kena, a former governor and purported confidant of the late President Laurent-Désiré Kabila, who allegedly stated that his mission was to “create a close identity to give Joseph Kabila a paternity.”

   This is not merely another allegation; it is the purported revelation of the how—the detailed blueprint of how the alternative biography of Hippolyte Kanambe could have been systematically erased and replaced with the identity of Joseph Kabila. To comprehend the weight of such a claim in the Congolese context, one can turn to a powerful local adage: “The squirrel that tells you where the nut is buried has either been wronged or is tired of lying.” This proverb speaks to the idea that those with intimate knowledge of a deception will only reveal its secrets under significant duress or from a troubled conscience.

   Who is Ngoy Kena and What is His Claim?

   Ngoy Kena is presented as a former insider within Laurent-Désiré Kabila’s inner circle, a man entrusted with sensitive tasks. His alleged statement is explosive because it moves the narrative from speculative rumour to a claimed first-hand account of a deliberate, orchestrated plot.

   The phrase “create a close identity” (créer une identité proche) is highly specific and deeply revealing. It suggests a process that is more than a simple name change; it implies the construction of a complete and plausible biographical façade. This would involve:

   • Fabricating Documentation: Creating false birth certificates, school records, or other foundational documents to back up the new identity.

   • Crafting a Narrative: Developing a consistent backstory for “Joseph Kabila”—his place of birth (Hewa Bora, Ankoro), his history—that could be disseminated and believed.

   • Social Engineering: Ensuring key figures within the rebellion and, later, the government, would affirm and uphold this new identity, treating “Joseph” unequivocally as the son of the president.

   The mission to “give Joseph Kabila a paternity” is the core objective. It alleges a deliberate act of grafting the young man onto the Kabila bloodline, providing him with the revolutionary legitimacy and, crucially, the Congolese citizenship that would be his inheritance from a famed national leader.

   The Legal and Narrative Power of an Insider’s Testimony

   The citation of Ngoy Kena’s alleged claims serves a critical purpose in the lawyers’ strategy:

   1. Corroboration: It provides a specific, human source that corroborates the broader alternative biography of Hippolyte Kanambe. It answers the question “How could this have happened?” with a named individual and a stated mission.

   2. Establishing Intent: The word “mission” implies a deliberate, conscious, and top-down decision to deceive. This is not presented as a casual lie but as a calculated political strategy, elevating the allegation from a personal fraud to a state-level conspiracy.

   3. Undermining the Official Story: The testimony of a former governor, someone who would have been in a position to know, is designed to shatter the credibility of the official biography. It suggests that the very foundation of Joseph Kabila’s political legitimacy was a carefully constructed artifice.

   The Adage Explained: “The squirrel that tells you where the nut is buried has either been wronged or is tired of lying.”

   This Congolese proverb perfectly captures the complex credibility of a figure like Ngoy Kena.

   • The Squirrel: This represents the insider, Ngoy Kena. He is the one who helped “bury the nut”—the hidden truth of Joseph Kabila’s origins.

   • The Buried Nut: The nut is the secret itself—the true identity of Hippolyte Kanambe and the facts of his parentage.

   • Why He Talks: The adage offers two motives for his revelation, both of which the prosecution would use to frame his testimony:

     • “Has been wronged”: He may have fallen out with the Kabila camp, been sidelined, or felt betrayed. His testimony could be an act of revenge or retaliation.

     • “Is tired of lying”: The weight of the deception may have become too heavy for his conscience. This frames his revelation as a belated act of truth-telling, a desire to unburden himself from a long-held secret.

   The power of the adage is that it acknowledges the testimony might be motivated by self-interest, but it simultaneously validates the truth of the revelation. Regardless of why the squirrel talks, the location of the nut it reveals is understood to be real.

   In the context of the trial, the lawyers use this logic. They present Ngoy Kena’s alleged statement as the key that unlocks the entire mystery. Whether he is a wronged man seeking revenge or a penitent soul unburdening his conscience, the claim itself—that he was tasked with architecting a false identity—is offered as the crucial, insider evidence that proves the deception was real, deliberate, and orchestrated at the highest levels. It transforms the case from a matter of “he said, they said” into one with a purported whistleblower who claims to have been the architect of the very façade he now seeks to expose.

7. The Espionage Accusation: From Traitor to Foreign Agent

   In the High Military Court of Kinshasa, the collective of lawyers for the Congolese state culminated their foundational arguments with a conclusion of breathtaking gravity. They asserted that the man known as “Joseph Kabila” is a pseudonym, a constructed identity for an individual who is, at his core, a foreign national. From this, they drew their most devastating legal and political conclusion: therefore, his alleged crimes against the state do not constitute treason (trahison), but espionage (espionnage).

   This is a pivotal strategic reclassification that fundamentally alters the narrative of the case and its implications for the nation. To understand the profound shift this represents, one can turn to a potent Congolese adage: “You cannot betray a house you were never admitted into.” (“On ne peut pas trahir une maison dans laquelle on n’a jamais été admis.”) This proverb draws a clear distinction between an insider’s betrayal and an outsider’s attack, which is the very heart of the legal argument being made.

   The Legal Chasm Between Treason and Espionage

   While often used interchangeably in political rhetoric, treason and espionage are distinct crimes in law, particularly in the Congolese legal system.

   • Treason (Trahison): This is the crime of betrayal from within. It is perpetrated by a citizen who owes allegiance to the state. The crime is the violation of that sacred trust. It is the ultimate internal subversion. The legal punishment for treason is severe, but the crime itself acknowledges the perpetrator was once considered part of the national family.

   • Espionage (Espionnage): This is the crime of aggression from without. It is perpetrated by an agent of a foreign power who operates clandestinely within a host country. Their goal is to gather intelligence, sow instability, and undermine the state for the benefit of their foreign sponsor. The agent never owed any allegiance to the host country; their loyalty was always elsewhere.

   The Logic of the Reclassification

   The lawyers’ argument follows a cold, legalistic logic:

   1. Premise 1: Treason can only be committed by a Congolese citizen (a member of the “house”).

   2. Premise 2: Joseph Kabila, allegedly being Hippolyte Kanambe of Rwanda, is not and never was a Congolese citizen. He was never legally “admitted into the house.”

   3. Conclusion: Therefore, his actions cannot be treason. Instead, as a foreign national who allegedly ascended to the highest office, his use of that position to plunder resources, facilitate foreign military aggression (e.g., through proxy groups like M23), and destabilise the country constitutes the actions of a foreign spy. He was not a son betraying his motherland, but a hostile agent who had successfully infiltrated the command centre.

   The Devastating Implications

   Framing the allegations as espionage is strategically and symbolically far more damaging than treason.

   1. It Internationalises the Crime: It directly implicates a foreign power (Rwanda) as the alleged beneficiary and sponsor of this operation. Kabila is presented not as a rogue leader, but as the instrument of a neighbouring state’s policy.

   2. It Recontextualises Two Decades of History: It reframes the entire Kabila presidency. Policies, wars, and economic deals are no longer seen as examples of poor governance or internal corruption by a national leader, but as deliberate acts of sabotage by an embedded agent working for a rival nation’s interest. The conflicts in the East become not a failure of security policy, but a success of a foreign espionage mission.

   3. It Attacks the Very Notion of Legacy: A traitor can, in some twisted way, be seen as a flawed product of the nation itself. A foreign spy is an existential threat that came from outside. This strips away any last vestige of national legitimacy from Kabila’s rule.

   The Adage Explained: “You cannot betray a house you were never admitted into.”

   This proverb is the perfect moral and legal framework for the lawyers’ accusation.

   • The House: This represents the Congolese nation-state, with its laws, citizenship, and sovereign rights. Admission to this house is granted through legal citizenship.

   • Betrayal vs. Attack: The adage makes a critical distinction. Betrayal is what happens when a trusted family member (a citizen) turns against the house. An attack is what happens when an outsider forces their way in or deceives their way in with hostile intent.

   The lawyers’ entire case rests on proving that “Joseph Kabila” was never legally admitted into the Congolese house. He was not a family member who stole the silverware (treason); he was a burglar who conned his way through the front door, took up residence, and then systematically looted the entire property for the benefit of a rival family down the road (espionage).

   By pursuing the espionage charge, the prosecution is attempting to try Joseph Kabila not as a fallen son of Congo, but as the most successful foreign intelligence operative in modern African history. It is the ultimate act of political and legal demolition, seeking to erase not just his legacy, but his very right to ever have had one.

8. The Legal Basis for Confiscation: Stripping the Fuel of Rebellion

   In the High Military Court of Kinshasa, the lawyers for the Congolese state moved from the explosive question of identity to a cold, calculated financial argument. The second pillar of their case was a meticulous legal justification for the comprehensive confiscation of all assets acquired by Joseph Kabila and his associates during his tenure in power. This was not presented as a punitive measure alone, but as a critical act of national security.

   Their argument hinged on a specific provision within the Congolese legal system: Article 14 of the Congolese Penal Code. This article provides for “la confiscation spéciale” (special confiscation), a powerful legal tool that goes beyond standard penalties. To understand the profound intent behind this move, a pertinent Congolese adage can be invoked: “You cannot cut down a tree by merely trimming its branches; you must strike at the root.” This proverb speaks to the necessity of addressing the fundamental source of a problem, not just its visible manifestations.

   What is “Special Confiscation” Under Article 14?

   Article 14 allows for the seizure of assets that have a direct connection to criminal activity. Crucially, its scope is broad:

   • Assets Used to Commit Crimes: This is the straightforward category. It includes things like vehicles used for smuggling, properties used for meetings to plot crimes, or phones used for illicit communication.

   • Assets Destined to be Used for Criminal Purposes: This is the more expansive and strategically vital category. It allows for the confiscation of assets that, while not yet used for a crime, were intended or allocated to fund future criminal enterprises. This is where the lawyers focused their energy.

   The Lawyers’ Argument: Fuel for the Machine

   The legal team’s application of Article 14 was bold and strategic. They argued that the vast fortune amassed by Kabila and his circle—the opaque business empires, the lucrative mining concessions, the real estate portfolios—was not merely the spoils of corruption.

   They framed it as the essential fuel for the machinery of conflict and destabilisation.

   Their core contention was that this wealth was destined to be used for criminal purposes, specifically:

   1. Financing terrorist Groups: They alleged that this capital was used to fund, arm, and support proxy terrorists like the M23, providing the financial lifeblood for a conflict that has ravaged the eastern DRC for years.

   2. Maintaining a Criminal Network: The assets were used to sustain a patronage network, bribing officials, bankrolling political manoeuvres, and ensuring loyalty through financial enrichment, all of which allegedly undermined the state.

   3. Destabilising the Nation: The ultimate criminal purpose, they argued, was the continued destabilisation of the Congo to facilitate the pillage of its resources and maintain a grip on power by keeping the state weak and divided.

   Therefore, every dollar allegedly embezzled, every mine allegedly acquired under dubious circumstances, and every property allegedly bought with illicit funds was not just a stolen asset; it was a bullet in a chamber, a salary for a rebel, or a bribe to a traitor—an instrument destined for criminal use.

   The Adage Explained: “You cannot cut down a tree by merely trimming its branches; you must strike at the root.”

   This adage perfectly illustrates the strategic thinking behind the demand for confiscation.

   • The Tree: This represents the alleged criminal enterprise orchestrated by Kabila—the ongoing instability, the rebel groups, the economic pillage, and the culture of impunity.

   • The Branches: These are the visible symptoms: the battles fought, the lives lost, the communities displaced. Trimming the branches is akin to deploying the army to fight yet another terrorist group. It addresses a symptom but the tree simply grows new branches.

   • The Root: This is the financial infrastructure—the vast fortune and assets—that feeds the entire tree, allowing it to regenerate and flourish.

   The lawyers argued that imposing a prison sentence alone would be like merely trimming the branches. It would punish the individual but leave the root system—the financial power—intact. This wealth could still be used by his network to continue financing conflict and influencing politics, ensuring his legacy of impunity and control endured.

   “Striking at the root” means using Article 14 to comprehensively dismantle that financial infrastructure. Confiscating every bank account, share, and property severs the root from the tree. It aims to ensure that even if the individual is punished, his capacity to project power, finance violence, and destabilise the nation is permanently crippled.

   By invoking Article 14, the lawyers transcended a simple demand for justice; they presented asset confiscation as a necessary act of national therapy and security. It was a legal argument designed not just to punish the past, but to neuter a perceived ongoing threat to the future of the Congolese state, striking directly at the economic root of alleged power.

9. Fuel for Terrorism: The Economics of a Manufactured Conflict

   In the High Military Court of Kinshasa, the lawyers for the Congolese state presented a devastating economic thesis to support their demand for asset confiscation. They contended that the vast fortune amassed by former president Joseph Kabila and his associates was not merely the product of routine corruption or greed. Instead, they argued it constituted the essential financial fuel for the proxy wars and terrosist groups, like the M23, that have ravaged the eastern Democratic Republic of Congo for decades.

   This argument reframes the understanding of wealth and power in the Congolese context, moving from personal enrichment to a weapon of war. To grasp the gravity of this accusation, a powerful Congolese adage can be employed: “The hand that gives is the hand that rules.” (“La main qui donne est la main qui commande”). This proverb encapsulates the idea that control is not just exercised through force, but through the economic power to sustain and direct that force.

   From Ill-Gotten Gains to a War Chest

   The lawyers’ contention was that the alleged embezzlement of state funds, the seizure of lucrative mining assets, and the creation of sprawling business empires were not end goals in themselves. They were presented as the necessary means to a much more sinister end: financing instability.

   The argument posits a vicious cycle:

   1. Wealth Acquisition: State resources are systematically diverted through corruption, creating a vast private fortune for the Kabila network.

   2. Weaponisation of Wealth: This fortune is then deployed to finance, arm, and supply terrorist militias in the eastern DRC, most notably the Rwanda-backed M23 terrorists but also various other armed groups.

   3. Destabilisation and Profit: The ensuing conflict creates a state of permanent chaos and weakens central state authority. In this vacuum, the systematic looting of Congolese minerals (gold, coltan, cassiterite) can continue with impunity.

   4. Reinvestment: The profits from this illicit mineral trade are fed back into the system, topping up the war chest to finance more conflict, buy more allegiances, and ensure the cycle continues.

   This model, the lawyers alleged, transforms the eastern DRC into a perpetual conflict zone not by accident, but by design—because it is economically and politically profitable for those who control the financial flows.

   The Role of the M23 and Other Proxy Groups

   The M23 terrorist group is cited as a prime example. The prosecution’s narrative suggests that such groups are not merely foreign-inspired insurgencies but are also financially dependent on networks within the DRC itself. The alleged Kabila fortune acted as a crucial internal financier and facilitator, providing:

   • Logistical Support: Funding for weapons, ammunition, uniforms, and food for fighters.

   • Political Patronage: Bribes to officials to look the other way, or to create political obstacles for rivals attempting to resolve the conflict.

   • Economic Integration: A means to launder and sell the minerals pillaged from conflict zones onto the global market.

   The Adage Explained: “The hand that gives is the hand that rules.”

   This proverb is the perfect key to understanding the lawyers’ argument about “fuel for rebellion.”

   • The Hand That Gives: This represents the financial power of the alleged Kabila network. It is the hand that distributes money, weapons, and patronage to militia leaders, local warlords, and political allies.

   • The Hand That Rules: This is the ultimate authority and control derived from that giving. By being the primary source of funding, the Kabila network allegedly commanded the loyalty of these armed terrorist groups. They could dictate terms, direct military strategy, and ensure the violence served their ultimate goals: maintaining political relevance, preventing a stable government from taking root after them, and continuing access to illicit wealth.

   The argument is that true power was not just held in the presidential palace, but in the bank accounts that could turn terrorism on or off. By financing the M23 terrorists and other terrorist groups, the lawyers contend that Kabila and his associates were not victims of instability but its primary architects and beneficiaries. They “ruled” the conflict zone by being the indispensable “hand that gives.”

   Therefore, the demand for asset confiscation is framed not as punishment, but as disarmament. It is an attempt to sever the financial pipeline that has fed the conflict for years. Seizing the alleged fortune is presented as the single most effective way to drain the swamp of conflict financing, pull the rug out from under the terrorist groups, and finally break the cycle of violence that has cost millions of Congolese lives. It is an effort to cut off the hand that rules, so that the nation might finally have peace.

10. An International Standard: Disarming Criminals Through Their Bank Accounts

    In the High Military Court of Kinshasa, the lawyers for the Congolese state did not base their argument for asset confiscation solely on national law. They fortified their position by anchoring it in global best practices, arguing that their demand aligns with sophisticated international frameworks designed to combat organised crime, terrorism, and grand corruption. This move elevated their plea from a domestic legal manoeuvre to a principled stand in line with global norms.

    This strategy is designed to demonstrate that the pursuit of Joseph Kabila’s assets is not a vindictive or politically motivated act, but a necessary and recognised tool of justice and security. To understand the profound logic behind this international approach, a compelling Congolese adage can be applied: “You do not set a trap where animals do not drink.” This proverb emphasises the importance of strategic, targeted action based on deep understanding of a subject’s behaviour.

    The Global Playbook for Asset Recovery

    The “international best practices” referenced by the lawyers stem from a growing global consensus, championed by institutions like the UN and the Stolen Asset Recovery Initiative (StAR), that to defeat criminal networks, one must follow the money. This philosophy is built on several key principles:

    1. Crippling Operational Capacity: Criminal and terrorist enterprises are not just ideological or military entities; they are financial ones. They require a constant flow of funds for weapons, salaries, logistics, and bribes. Confiscating assets doesn’t just punish them retrospectively; it paralyzes their ability to operate in the future.

    2. Deterrence: The threat of losing ill-gotten wealth makes corruption and illicit financing a far riskier enterprise. It targets the primary motive—enrichment—and threatens to erase its rewards.

    3. Repairing Harm: Recovered assets can be repatriated to the state and used for the public good—funding hospitals, schools, or infrastructure in regions devastated by the very conflicts the wealth financed. This creates a powerful symbolic and practical form of restorative justice.

    The DRC’s Application of the Standard

    The lawyers argued that the alleged network around Joseph Kabila operates like a sophisticated transnational criminal organisation. Therefore, the same principles must apply:

    • The “Trap” of Justice: The international standard is the “trap.” It is the legal mechanism—laws like Article 14, international cooperation treaties, and financial intelligence units—designed to seize assets.

    • The “Watering Hole” of Power: The “watering hole” where the “animals drink” is the financial infrastructure. For the alleged criminal network, this is the vast system of bank accounts, mining concessions, shell companies, and real estate holdings that constitute its fortune. This is where it goes to sustain itself.

    The logic, as per the adage, is impeccable: you do not waste effort setting traps in irrelevant places. You set them precisely at the point of sustenance. For a rebel group, its sustenance is not just its fighters, but the money that pays them. For a kleptocratic network, its sustenance is its wealth and assets.

    The Adage Explained: “You do not set a trap where animals do not drink.”

    This proverb perfectly captures the strategic genius of international asset recovery practices and the lawyers’ argument.

    • The Animals: This represents the alleged criminal network—the figures accused of plundering the state and financing conflict.

    • Where They Drink: This is their point of sustenance, their lifeblood. For these “animals,” it is not water, but wealth and financial power. This is what they rely on to survive and thrive.

    • The Trap: The legal mechanism for asset confiscation is the trap. It is set not on the battlefield, but in the financial system—in courtrooms and through international arrest warrants for assets.

    The lawyers’ argument is that pursuing military solutions alone (fighting the M23 on the ground) is like setting a trap in the wrong part of the forest. It may catch a few foot soldiers, but it misses the source of the problem. The true source—the “watering hole”—is the financial empire that fuels the war.

    Therefore, by demanding the comprehensive confiscation of Kabila’s assets using Congolese law aligned with international standards, the lawyers are arguing for setting the trap exactly where it needs to be. They are aiming to strike at the very source of the network’s power and longevity: its money.

    This framing does two things. First, it gives their request a legitimacy that transcends the heated politics of the DRC, grounding it in cool, rational, globally accepted security strategy. Second, it presents the Congolese court with a choice: will it remain a passive observer, or will it take decisive, modern action to set a “trap” at the financial “watering hole” and finally disarm the architects of the country’s suffering?

11. The Scale of Reparations: A $24.7 Billion Bill for the Soul of a Nation

    In the High Military Court of Kinshasa, the lawyers for the Congolese state culminated their case with a figure so vast it defies easy comprehension: a meticulously itemised demand for $24.7 billion in reparations. This was not a round number plucked from the air; it was a forensic, almost surgical, attempt to quantify the incalculable—the profound and multi-generational suffering inflicted upon the Congolese people through years of alleged betrayal and conflict.

    This staggering sum transcends mere financial penalty; it is a political, moral, and symbolic act. To understand its profound meaning in the Congolese context, one can turn to a powerful and poignant adage: “When an elephant tramples a field, it does not simply walk away; it must answer for the lost harvest.” This proverb speaks to the principle of absolute accountability, especially of the powerful, for the total destruction they cause.

    The Philosophy Behind the Bill

    The presentation of a detailed bill serves several critical purposes:

    1. From Abstract to Concrete: It transforms abstract allegations of “harm” and “destruction” into concrete, quantifiable categories. It forces the court, the public, and the international community to confront the true, monstrous cost of the alleged crimes not in terms of emotion, but in cold, hard data.

    2. Restorative, Not Just Punitive: While the figure is punitive, its purpose is framed as restorative. It is a demand for what is owed to the Congolese people to rebuild what was destroyed. It is the price tag for healing, reconstruction, and justice.

    3. A Historical Record: Regardless of the court’s ultimate ability to enforce payment, the itemised bill stands as an indelible historical record. It is an official, legal document that catalogues the scale of the alleged plunder and violence, ensuring it can never be dismissed or forgotten.

    Breaking Down the “Lost Harvest”

    The legal team’s bill, as reported, itemised the “lost harvest”—the fields trampled by the “elephant” of alleged espionage and conflict financing. The breakdown includes:

    • Lost Provincial Budgets ($701 million): The direct economic paralysis inflicted on regions like South Kivu, preventing basic governance and service delivery.

    • Lost Customs and Tax Revenues ($12 billion): Money stolen directly from the state’s coffers, crippling its ability to fund hospitals, schools, and infrastructure for its citizens.

    • Value of Pillaged Minerals ($3 billion): A calculated estimate of the nation’s natural wealth that was allegedly systematically looted and smuggled out.

    • Destroyed Infrastructure ($17.4 million for schools): The physical cost of rebuilding community pillars like the 58 schools destroyed or occupied by rebels.

    • Additional Military Expenditure ($9 billion): The colossal financial burden placed on the state to fight a war allegedly fuelled by the defendant’s actions. This is money that could have been spent on development, not destruction.

    The Adage Explained: “When an elephant tramples a field, it does not simply walk away; it must answer for the lost harvest.”

    This proverb is the perfect moral framework for the $24.7 billion demand.

    • The Elephant: This represents immense, careless power. In this narrative, it is the alleged Kabila system—a force of such size and power that it could trample the entire “field” of the Congolese state without apparent effort.

    • The Trampled Field: This is the Democratic Republic of Congo itself—its economy, its social fabric, its infrastructure, and the lives of its people, all crushed underfoot.

    • The Lost Harvest: This is the totality of the destruction. It is not just the crushed crops of one season; it is the loss of future harvests, the food stolen from the mouths of children for years to come, the seed capital for a nation’s future that was utterly destroyed.

    The adage dictates that the elephant cannot simply walk away from this devastation. Accountability is non-negotiable. The $24.7 billion figure is the legal and financial embodiment of this principle. It is the attempt to make the “elephant” answer for every single lost stalk of grain, for the entire harvest that the Congolese people were denied.

    It acknowledges that while no sum of money can ever truly compensate for lost lives and decades of trauma, a definitive financial reckoning is a necessary component of justice. It is a demand that the scale of the answer must finally match the scale of the crime. The figure is audacious because the alleged crime is unprecedented. It is a bill for the soul of a nation, presented to the court in the unflinching language of accountants, because the language of poets is no longer enough.

12. Breakdown of the Bill: The Anatomy of a $24.7 Billion Reckoning

    In the High Military Court of Kinshasa, the legal team’s demand for $24.7 billion in reparations was not a symbolic, round number. Its power and credibility derived from its meticulous, itemised structure, which aimed to methodically catalogue the alleged economic haemorrhaging of the Congolese state. Breaking down this sum—from the $701 million in lost provincial budgets for South Kivu to the $9 billion in lost customs revenues—transforms it from an abstract concept into a tangible indictment. To understand the profound significance of this forensic accounting, a deeply resonant Congolese adage can be invoked: “Little by little, the bird builds its nest.” (“Petit à petit, l’oiseau fait son nid”). This proverb speaks to the cumulative, incremental nature of both creation and destruction.

    The Philosophy of the Itemised Bill

    The detailed breakdown serves a critical legal and narrative purpose. It demonstrates that the colossal final figure is not an exaggeration but the sum of its meticulously researched parts. Each line item represents a specific, identifiable wound inflicted upon the body politic of the DRC. It is an attempt to build a nest of evidence, straw by straw, that is so sturdy the court cannot ignore it.

    Analysing Key Components of the “Lost Nest”

    The two figures—$701 million for South Kivu and $9 billion in customs revenues—are particularly potent examples of this strategy.

    1. The $701 Million for South Kivu: The Cost of Paralysed Governance

    This part of the bill represents the asphyxiation of local governance. Provincial budgets are the lifeblood of local services: paying teachers’ and doctors’ salaries, maintaining roads, funding hospitals, and supporting local development projects.

    • What It Means: By alleging that this money was lost—diverted through corruption or wasted due to instability—the lawyers are arguing that the very mechanism for caring for citizens was deliberately broken. This isn’t just stolen money; it is:

      • Schools that were never built.

      • Vaccines that were never bought.

      • Civil servants who went unpaid, fostering discontent and crippling administration.

      • Infrastructure that crumbled, isolating communities.

    This figure quantifies the human cost of misrule in one of the nation’s most critical and conflict-affected regions.

    2. The $9 Billion in Lost Customs Revenues: The Price of a Plundered Border

    This figure, attributed to an official report by the Inspectorate General of Finance (IGF), is arguably even more devastating. Customs duties are one of the primary sources of revenue for any state, a tax on the legitimate cross-border trade that should enrich the nation.

    • What It Means: The alleged loss of $250 million per month points to a systematic, colossal fraud. It suggests one of two things, or both:

      1. Massive Smuggling: That borders, particularly in the east, were deliberately left porous to allow minerals, gold, and other resources to be smuggled out without any tax being paid to the Congolese state.

      2. Institutionalised Corruption: That customs officials were part of a network that deliberately under-declared the value of imports and exports, or simply pocketed the duties, with the knowledge and for the benefit of those at the top.

    This $9 billion represents wealth that should have been funding the entire nation’s budget instead being siphoned off into private pockets or financing conflicts.

    The Adage Explained: “Little by little, the bird builds its nest.”

    This proverb perfectly captures the lawyers’ argument about the breakdown of the bill.

    • The Nest: The nest is the Congolese state—its institutions, its economy, and its social contract. It is what generations have worked to build.

    • The Bird Building It: Normally, the adage is positive, about patient creation. Here, the lawyers invert it. They argue that the alleged Kabila system acted as a reverse-bird.

    • “Little by Little” Theft: The breakdown shows that the nest wasn’t destroyed in one fell swoop. It was dismantled straw by straw, dollar by dollar, over years. The $701 million here and the $9 billion there were individual strands pulled from the nest.

    The $24.7 billion is the price tag for meticulously unweaving the national nest. The itemised bill demonstrates that the alleged looting was not a single grand theft but a death by a thousand cuts—a systematic, continuous process where provincial budgets were bled dry and national revenues were hijacked at the border, day after day, month after month.

    By presenting the figure in this broken-down manner, the lawyers force the court to confront the mundane, bureaucratic reality of the alleged crime. It wasn’t just dramatic; it was daily. It was the slow, deliberate weakening of the state’s ability to function for the benefit of its people, all while a parallel financial structure grew powerful on the proceeds. The bill is a demand for restitution for every single straw stolen from the nest, so that the nation might finally begin to rebuild.

13. The Cost of War: Quantifying the Unquantifiable

    Within the High Military Court of Kinshasa, the legal team’s itemised bill of $24.7 billion moves beyond lost revenues to its most heart-wrenching and strategically damning section: the direct cost of the conflict itself. This segment quantifies the human and strategic devastation, including $3 billion for pillaged minerals, $17.4 million for 58 destroyed schools, and a colossal $9 billion in additional military expenditures.

    These figures represent an attempt to assign a value to destruction, to put a price tag on suffering, and to bill the alleged architect for the very war the state was forced to fight. To grasp the profound gravity of this endeavour, a sombre and resonant Congolese adage can be employed: “When two elephants fight, it is the grass that suffers.” This proverb perfectly captures the devastating impact of powerful forces clashing upon the innocent and the land itself.

    Deconstructing the Costs of Conflict

    The lawyers’ breakdown forces the court to confront three distinct layers of war costs:

    1. The $3 Billion for Pillaged Minerals: The Looting of a Nation’s Legacy
    This figure represents the systematic theft of the DRC’s geological inheritance. It is not merely the value of raw rocks and dirt; it is the stolen future those resources represent.

    • What It Means: This is wealth that should have funded national development, schools, hospitals, and infrastructure for generations to come. Instead, it was allegedly looted and smuggled out to enrich a narrow network and foreign interests. This item accuses the defendant of not just starting a fire, but of profiting from the arson by stealing the family’s valuables while the house burned.

    2. The $17.4 Million for 58 Destroyed Schools: The Attack on the Future
    This is perhaps the most symbolically powerful item on the list. A school is not just a building; it is a sanctuary for a community’s future, a beacon of hope and normalcy.

    • What It Means: The destruction of 58 schools is an attack on the very possibility of a post-war recovery. It represents:

      • A generation of lost education: Children forced into displacement, recruited by militias, or simply deprived of knowledge.

      • Shattered communities: The school is often the heart of a village; its destruction is a psychological and social blow.

      • The deliberate sabotage of development: Without education, cycles of poverty and conflict are perpetuated.

    This cost is a demand for reparations not just for bricks and mortar, but for the stolen potential of thousands of Congolese children.

    3. The $9 Billion in Additional Military Expenditure: The Price of a Manufactured War
    This is the most strategically audacious item. It represents the colossal financial burden placed on the Congolese state to fight a rebellion that the prosecution alleges was financed and supported by the defendant.

    • What It Means: This is the ultimate illustration of a self-serving conflict. The argument is that the alleged network:

      1. Helped create or fuel a security threat (e.g., M23).

      2. Forced the nation to spend billions from its own treasury on military campaigns to counter that threat.

      3. Thereby diverting vast public funds away from productive development and into destructive warfare, effectively making the state pay to fight a war against itself.

    It frames the military spending not as a legitimate national security expense, but as the cost of containing a monster that the defendant allegedly helped create.

    The Adage Explained: “When two elephants fight, it is the grass that suffers.”

    This proverb is the essential key to understanding the moral core of the lawyers’ argument.

    • The Two Elephants: This represents the clashing titans—the Congolese national army (FARDC) on one side, and the Rwandan-backed M23 rebellion on the other. The prosecution’s case is that Joseph Kabila is not a neutral party, but the alleged hidden handler of one of these elephants.

    • The Suffering Grass: The grass is the Congolese people of the east—the farmers, the villagers, the children, the teachers. It is the land itself, scarred by conflict. They are the utterly vulnerable party that is crushed, trampled, and destroyed by the battle they have no part in choosing.

    The $24.7 billion reparations bill is a legal mechanism designed to make one of the “elephants” answer for the suffering of the “grass.” It is an attempt to force the alleged sponsor of the conflict to pay for every crushed blade:

    • The $3 billion is for the pillaged soil the grass grew from.

    • The $17.4 million is for the schools that were the shelters for the young grass.

    • The $9 billion is the cost the grass-covered state incurred trying in vain to stop the fight.

    By presenting these figures, the lawyers are arguing that the defendant must be held accountable not just for his own actions, but for the entire devastating cascade of consequences that flowed from them. The bill is a monumental effort to make the elephant pay for the repair of every single blade of grass it trampled.

14. A Solemn Tribute: The Human Heart at the Centre of the Legal Machine

    In the formal and often coldly rational arena of the High Military Court in Kinshasa, the lawyers for the Congolese state began their historic plea not with a legal statute or a financial figure, but with a moment of profound humanity. Before delving into the complex arguments of espionage and asset confiscation, they paused to pay a solemn tribute to the countless Congolese victims, honouring those “cowardly torn from our affection… our mothers, our sisters, our children in the occupied provinces.”

    This was a critical and calculated rhetorical strategy, essential for grounding their staggering $24 billion claim not in abstract economics, but in tangible human suffering. To understand the deep cultural and emotional resonance of this tribute, one must consider a fundamental Congolese adage: “A person is a person through other persons.” (“Umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu” in Zulu, a concept deeply embedded across many African societies, including the DRC). This philosophy of Ubuntu emphasises our shared humanity and interconnectedness.

    The Purpose of the Tribute: More Than Just Words

    This opening tribute served several crucial functions:

    1. Establishing Moral Authority: It immediately framed the lawyers not as mere technicians of the law, but as representatives of the people, giving a voice to the voiceless. It positioned their case on an unassailable moral foundation of grief and loss, before a single legal argument was even made.

    2. Grounding the Case in Reality: The subsequent arguments about reclassified crimes and billions in reparations could risk becoming abstract. By beginning with the image of murdered mothers, sisters, and children, the lawyers anchored their entire case in the brutal reality of the conflict. The $24 billion became not a number, but the financial quantification of this grief.

    3. Creating an Unbreakable Bond with the Audience: By speaking directly of “our mothers, our sisters, our children,” the lawyers did not position themselves as outsiders. They identified as Congolese citizens themselves, sharing in the national trauma. This use of the collective “our” fostered a powerful sense of shared purpose and solidarity with the victims and the public watching.

    The Victims of the “Occupied Provinces”

    The specific reference to the “occupied provinces” of Ituri, North Kivu, and South Kivu is highly significant. These eastern regions have been the epicentre of violence for decades, suffering immensely under the reign of various rebel groups, including the M23. The people there have experienced unspeakable atrocities: mass displacement, sexual violence, child soldier recruitment, and massacres.

    By honouring these victims first, the lawyers made it clear: this trial is for them. It is the state, finally, attempting to hold the alleged highest-level architect of their suffering accountable.

    The Adage Explained: “A person is a person through other persons.”

    This philosophy of Ubuntu is the essential lens through which to view this tribute.

    • The Individual and the Collective: Ubuntu asserts that our humanity is defined by our relationships and our community. An individual cannot exist in isolation; their worth is intertwined with the worth of others.

    • The Legal Case as an Act of communal Restoration: The lawyers’ tribute invoked this principle. The victims—the mothers, sisters, and children—were not anonymous statistics. They were integral parts of the communal body of Congo. Their loss was not just a personal tragedy but a wound to the entire nation, a tearing of the social fabric.

    By beginning with this tribute, the lawyers argued that the case was an act of communal restoration. The state was not just prosecuting an individual; it was seeking to repair the broken bonds of humanity, to reaffirm the value of every Congolese life so brutally disregarded.

    The legal arguments that followed—the demand for justice, for reparations, for the return of stolen assets—were thus framed as the necessary steps to rebuild that community. The $24 billion was presented as the material means to begin healing the wound, to fund the schools and hospitals that would allow the community to nurture new life and protect its members once again.

    In essence, the tribute was a reminder to the court: This is not a case about money or power. It is a case about people. It established that the true plaintiffs were not the state as an abstract entity, but the weeping families in the hills of Kivu, the displaced communities of Ituri, and the collective soul of a nation yearning for justice. It was a powerful invocation of the principle that because we are human through each other, an attack on one is an attack on all, and justice for one must be sought in the name of all.

15. Courage Under Threat: The Invisible Shield of Anonymity

    In the High Military Court of Kinshasa, a chilling detail underscores the perilous nature of the trial against Joseph Kabila: the lawyers representing the Congolese state argued their case with their identities shielded from the public. This was not a matter of privacy but one of sheer survival. The plea itself acknowledged the “immense personal risk” taken by these legal professionals, a stark admission that highlights the tense and dangerous reality of challenging absolute power in the Democratic Republic of Congo.

    This element of the proceedings reveals a truth far beyond the courtroom: that the pursuit of justice in such a high-stakes environment is an act of profound bravery, often undertaken in the shadows. To understand the weight of this sacrifice, a powerful Congolese adage can be invoked: “The cockroach never celebrates when the chicken is invited to a wedding.” This proverb speaks to a deep-seated awareness of inherent danger and the precariousness of opposing a far more powerful force.

    The Nature of the Threat

    The risks faced by these lawyers are not hypothetical. The DRC has a long and tragic history of activists, journalists, and opposition figures who have faced intimidation, arbitrary arrest, forced disappearance, or assassination for challenging powerful interests.

    • Targeting of Professionals: Lawyers who take on cases against the political elite are not immune. They can become targets for harassment, disbarment, physical violence, or worse.

    • The Precedent of Violence: The assassination of individuals like Floribert Chebeya, who was investigating these very questions, serves as a grim reminder of the potential fate that awaits those who dig too deep. His death is a spectre that hangs over this entire proceeding.

    • A Climate of Impunity: The persistent lack of accountability for such crimes against activists creates a climate of fear. It sends a clear message: some truths are too dangerous to uncover.

    The Significance of Anonymity

    The decision to shield the lawyers’ identities is a dramatic and telling measure.

    1. A Practical Necessity: It is a basic security protocol, a necessary shield to protect them and their families from immediate reprisal. It is an admission that the courtroom itself may be the only safe space for this truth to be spoken.

    2. A Powerful Accusation: Their anonymity itself is a silent testimony against the defendant. It communicates to the court and the world: “The power we are challenging is so fearsome, so vengeful, that we cannot even show our faces in public for fear of being killed.” It is a non-verbal argument about the nature of the regime they are accusing.

    3. The Subordination of Self: These lawyers have chosen to let the case itself take precedence over their own personal recognition or glory. They are literally faceless advocates, ensuring the message is heard while the messengers remain protected. This is the ultimate professional sacrifice.

    The Adage Explained: “The cockroach never celebrates when the chicken is invited to a wedding.”

    This proverb is a masterful expression of survival wisdom and it perfectly encapsulates the lawyers’ precarious position.

    • The Chicken: Represents raw, overpowering force. It is the dominant, powerful entity that can effortlessly destroy the weaker party. In this context, the “chicken” is the immense, entrenched network of power and impunity associated with the former president.

    • The Cockroach: Represents the vulnerable, but resilient, individual. It is the lawyer, the activist, the truth-teller who operates in the shadows, aware of their fragility.

    • The Wedding: Represents the arena of conflict or engagement—in this case, the national spectacle of the trial.

    The adage’s wisdom is its warning: the cockroach (the lawyer) should never be fooled into believing the chicken (the power structure) has its best interests at heart, even when invited to the same event (the trial). To celebrate openly, to drop one’s guard, is to invite annihilation.

    The lawyers’ anonymity is the embodiment of this wisdom. They have been “invited to the wedding”—they are participating in the official legal process. But they are not celebrating; they are operating with extreme caution. They understand that despite the formal setting of the court, the “chicken” remains a lethal threat. Their shielded identities are their way of navigating the wedding feast without ending up as the main course.

    This act of courage under threat elevates their work from a simple legal duty to a profound act of patriotism. They are betting their safety on the principle that the law, however fragile, must eventually triumph over brute force. Their hidden faces are a silent, powerful testament to the dangers of speaking truth to power in the DRC, and a reminder that the quest for justice often rests on the shoulders of brave individuals who may never receive public acclaim.

16. The Formal Demands: A Trilogy of Accountability

    Before the bench of the High Military Court in Kinshasa, the collective of lawyers for the Congolese state culminated their devastating plea with three precise, monumental, and interconnected formal demands. These were not mere suggestions but the culmination of their entire argument, representing a trilogy of accountability designed to address the alleged crimes on every conceivable level: legal, financial, and symbolic.

    The demands were:

    1. Reclassify the charges from treason to espionage.

    2. Order the defendant to pay $24.7 billion in reparations to the DRC.

    3. Confiscate all of his identified assets worldwide.

    To understand the profound interdependence of these demands, one can turn to a powerful Congolese adage: “You do not chase a snake into the grass without first cutting off its head and seizing its eggs.” This proverb speaks to the necessity of a comprehensive and final solution when confronting a dangerous threat, ensuring it can never recover or return.

    Deconstructing the Trilogy of Demands

    Each demand targets a different aspect of the alleged crime and the defendant’s power, but they are designed to work in concert.

    1. Reclassification to Espionage: Cutting Off the Head (The Legal Blow)
    This is the foundational, strategic demand. It redefines the very nature of the defendant’s alleged actions.

    • “Cutting off the head” refers to delivering a fatal blow to the core of the defendant’s identity and legitimacy. By successfully arguing he is a foreign spy (Hippolyte Kanambe) and not a Congolese leader, the lawyers seek to decapitate his political legacy and legal standing. It transforms him from a fallen national figure into a hostile foreign agent, fundamentally altering how history and the law will view his eighteen-year reign. This is the decisive, lethal strike.

    2. Worldwide Asset Confiscation: Seizing the Eggs (The Financial Blow)
    This demand aims to destroy the financial infrastructure that sustains the alleged network and its capacity for future harm.

    • “Seizing the eggs” means destroying the threat’s future potential. The assets—the bank accounts, the mining shares, the international properties—are the “eggs.” They represent the stored wealth and power that could be used to hatch new schemes, finance new rebellions, buy political influence, or allow the defendant to live in luxury while the nation suffers. Confiscation seeks to crush every single egg, ensuring no future threat can spawn from this accumulated fortune. It is the permanent dismantling of his economic power base.

    3. The $24.7 Billion Reparation Order: Claiming Restitution for the Poison (The Moral Blow)
    This demand addresses the consequences of the alleged actions, aiming to force a material repayment for the damage caused.

    • The “snake’s poison” is the devastation inflicted upon the Congo: the lives lost, the schools destroyed, the economy plundered, and the war funded. The reparations bill is the price tag for the antidote and the reconstruction. It is a demand that the defendant, now legally defined as a foreign aggressor, be held financially liable for the total cost of cleaning up the damage his alleged espionage caused. It is the bill presented for the poison he is accused of injecting into the nation’s veins.

    The Adage Explained: A Comprehensive Strategy

    The adage provides the strategic logic linking all three demands. You would not just chase the snake (bring him to trial) and then let it slither away to later recover and use its eggs (assets) to produce more poison (finance more instability).

    The formal demands ensure a complete and total victory:

    • First, you cut off the head (Reclassify to Espionage): Deliver the fatal legal blow to his identity and legacy.

    • Then, you seize the eggs (Global Asset Confiscation): Destroy all his stored wealth and future capacity to harm.

    • Finally, you claim restitution for the poison ($24.7 Billion Reparation): Force him to pay for every ounce of damage done.

    This trilogy leaves no avenue for recovery. It seeks to legally annihilate the defendant, financially eviscerate his network, and materially begin the process of healing the nation. Together, these demands represent the most comprehensive attempt in Congolese history to not just punish an individual, but to surgically dismantle an entire system of alleged predation and hold it accountable to the last cent. It is the application of ancient wisdom to the modern courtroom: a complete and final solution for a pervasive and deadly threat.

17. The Court’s Position: The Weight of a Nation on the Scales of Justice

    In the wake of the seismic pleas delivered before the High Military Court in Kinshasa, the judicial process has entered its most critical and precarious phase. The court, having heard the foundational arguments from the state’s lawyers, has adjourned to consider these monumental pleas, awaiting the full written submissions. The world now watches as the case moves towards the prosecution’s final arguments, setting the stage for a verdict that possesses the sheer weight to redefine the very concept of justice in the Democratic Republic of Congo.

    This moment of judicial deliberation is not merely a procedural pause; it is a period of immense national tension and historical consequence. To understand the profound pressure and significance resting upon the court, one can turn to a deeply resonant Congolese adage: “The judge’s beard is long, but it must not prevent him from seeing the truth.” This proverb speaks to the immense gravity, wisdom, and ultimate impartiality required of those who sit in judgment, especially when the case before them threatens to reshape the nation.

    The Immensity of the Task

    The court is not deliberating on a simple criminal matter. It is being asked to rule on a case that is, in effect, a historical inquest into two decades of national leadership. The judges must weigh:

    1. Unprecedented Legal Theory: The request to reclassify a former head of state from a alleged traitor to a foreign spy is a legal manoeuvre with few parallels in modern international law. It requires meticulous examination of nationality laws, evidence of identity, and the legal definitions of espionage.

    2. A Staggering Financial Claim: The $24.7 billion reparations bill is of a scale rarely seen anywhere. The court must assess the methodology behind each line item, determining the direct causal link between the defendant’s alleged actions and each category of loss.

    3. Political and Security Implications: The judges are acutely aware that their verdict will send shockwaves through the country’s fragile political ecosystem and could have significant ramifications for national stability. They must balance the demand for justice with a consciousness of the potential consequences.

    The Procedure Ahead: The Path to a Verdict

    The adjournment is a necessary step for a case of this complexity.

    • Awritten Submissions: The court requires the full, detailed written pleas from the defence collective. These documents will allow for careful, line-by-line analysis of the arguments, the evidence cited, and the legal precedents invoked.

    • The Prosecution’s Final Requisitions: Next, the prosecution will deliver its final arguments. This is their opportunity to respond to the defence’s points, reinforce their own evidence, and present their own recommendations for sentencing to the judges.

    • Deliberation: Finally, the judges will retreat to deliberate. This process involves sifting through thousands of pages of evidence, testimony, and legal code to reach a verdict that is both just and legally sound.

    The Adage Explained: “The judge’s beard is long, but it must not prevent him from seeing the truth.”

    This proverb perfectly captures the immense challenge before the High Military Court.

    • The Long Beard: The “long beard” symbolises the immense weight of the matter. It represents the towering pressure from every side: from a public yearning for accountability, from powerful political interests, from the international community, and from the sheer historical gravity of the moment. The beard is the complexity of the case, the political ramifications, and the intimidating power of the accused and his network.

    • Seeing the Truth: The “truth” is the immutable facts of the case, as discernible through evidence and law. It is the north star of justice that must guide the court’s decision, regardless of external pressures.

    The adage is a warning and an instruction. It acknowledges that the judge’s role is difficult and burdened by immense pressure (the long beard). However, it insists that these pressures must not obscure his vision or blind him to the core truth that must form the basis of his judgment.

    The Congolese people, and indeed the world, are now watching to see if the court’s “beard”—the political pressure, the fear of repercussion, the complexity of the case—will obscure its vision. Or, will it push that beard aside and deliver a verdict based solely on the evidence and the law, thereby seeing the truth clearly?

    

This is why the verdict promises to “redefine justice in Congo.” A ruling based on courage and legal integrity would shatter a long-standing culture of impunity for the elite, establishing a powerful new precedent that no one is above the law. A ruling perceived as politically compromised would reinforce the old order, confirming that true justice remains elusive for the powerful.

The court is now the fulcrum upon which the nation’s future balances. Its deliberation is the most important in the DRC’s recent history, a test of whether the institution can truly stand independent and see the truth, no matter how long its beard has grown.

1. A Counterargument & The Challenge of Proof: The Defence’s Fortress

   Amid the staggering allegations and monumental demands presented in the High Military Court of Kinshasa, it is crucial to acknowledge the formidable counter-narrative. Joseph Kabila, his legal team, and his political supporters vehemently dismiss the entire case as a politically motivated witch-hunt orchestrated by the administration of current President Félix Tshisekedi. They argue that the prosecution’s case, while dramatic, is built on a foundation of sand—a carefully constructed web of circumstantial evidence, hearsay, and fabricated testimony designed not to pursue justice, but to eliminate a political rival and tarnish his legacy permanently.

   This counterargument is not a minor detail; it is the central pillar of the defence’s strategy and represents the immense challenge the prosecution must overcome. To understand the dynamics of this legal battle, a pivotal Congolese adage can be invoked: “He who accuses must prove.” (“Celui qui accuse doit prouver”). This principle, a cornerstone of justice systems worldwide, places the entire weight of the trial onto the shoulders of the accusers.

   Deconstructing the Witch-hunt Narrative

   Kabila’s supporters frame the trial within a clear political context:

   1. The Breakdown of the Sacred Union: President Tshisekedi initially came to power in a fragile coalition with Kabila’s political platform, the FCC. This “Sacred Union” has since shattered, leading to a bitter political divorce. The trial is presented as the ultimate weapon in this power struggle, a way for Tshisekedi to neuter his most powerful opponent and consolidate control.

   2. Weaponising the Judiciary: They argue that the judiciary is being weaponised as a tool of political oppression. The court, in their view, is not an independent arbiter but an instrument of the executive branch, used to legally sanction a pre-determined outcome against a former president who still commands significant political and military loyalty.

   3. Dismissing the Evidence: Each element of the prosecution’s case is dismissed:

      • The alternative biography of “Hippolyte Kanambe” is denounced as a long-debunked conspiracy theory and racist propaganda.

      • The testimony of figures like Ngoy Kena is rejected as the bitter lies of a disgruntled former ally seeking revenge or personal gain.

      • The DNA demand is framed as an outrageous and disrespectful insult to the dignity of a former head of state and the memory of his father.

      • The financial figures are labelled as fantastical, politically invented numbers with no basis in forensic reality.

   The Immense Burden of Proof

   This is where the adage “He who accuses must prove” becomes the defining challenge of the entire trial.

   The burden of proof lies entirely with the prosecution and the civil party lawyers. They have made extraordinary claims; the legal and logical axiom is that they must now provide extraordinary evidence to substantiate them. The defence’s role is simply to punch holes in this evidence and create reasonable doubt.

   The challenges for the prosecution are monumental:

   • Proving Identity Beyond Reasonable Doubt: How do you definitively prove someone’s non-citizenship decades after the fact, especially when that person has held a passport and the highest office in the land? Can they produce a Rwandan birth certificate for Hippolyte Kanambe? Can they provide irrefutable, documentary evidence that Laurent-Désiré Kabila was not his biological father?

   • Establishing Causal Links for Reparations: How do you conclusively prove that a specific action by Joseph Kabila directly caused a rebel group to destroy a specific school, justifying a $17.4 million claim? The chain of causation in a complex conflict involving multiple actors is incredibly difficult to establish in a court of law.

   • Combating the Political Narrative: The prosecution must present its case so rigorously and with such ironclad evidence that it transcends the “witch-hunt” narrative. They must prove that this is not politics by other means, but a genuine pursuit of legal accountability.

   The Adage Explained: The Scales of Justice

   “He who accuses must prove” is the fundamental principle that keeps the justice system balanced. It protects individuals from the tyranny of baseless accusations.

   In this case, the adage is the defence’s strongest weapon. They will force the prosecution to meet an almost impossibly high bar. Every document will be scrutinised for authenticity, every witness’s credibility will be attacked, and every statistical claim will be challenged by defence experts.

   The verdict will ultimately hinge on whether the judges believe the prosecution has satisfied this immense burden of proof. Have they provided enough credible, admissible, and direct evidence to prove their extraordinary claims to the standard required by law, overcoming the strong stench of political motive that surrounds the entire proceeding?

   The trial, therefore, is a dual contest: it is both a legal battle over evidence and a political battle over narrative. The prosecution must win the first to defeat the second. They must not only present their case to the judges but also to the Congolese people, convincing them that this is a true reckoning, not a political masquerade. The challenge is as much about proving facts as it is about legitimising the very process of justice itself in a nation deeply sceptical of its institutions.

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Conclusion: A Nation’s Long Shadow of Accountability

The profound drama unfolding within the walls of Kinshasa’s High Military Court is a spectacle that transcends the fate of a single man. It is a seismic watershed moment for a nation whose modern history has been tragically defined by a culture of impunity for its political and military elite. The audacious legal arguments presented—the reclassification of treason to espionage, the alternative biography of Hippolyte Kanambe, and the staggering $24.7 billion reparations bill—are not merely legal pleas; they are a direct and unprecedented assault on this deeply entrenched culture. They represent the most forceful attempt in the Democratic Republic of Congo’s history to drag the shadows of its past into the unforgiving light of judicial scrutiny, testing the independence of its institutions and its very ability to confront its own painful history.

Whether the court ultimately accepts the espionage narrative or orders the payment of the colossal bill is, in a profound sense, almost secondary to the powerful message that has already been broadcast across the nation and the world: the era of unchallenged authority may finally be ending. The mere fact that these arguments can be presented in a formal court of law against a former head of state signals a monumental shift in the political landscape, breaking a once-unbreakable taboo.

This trial, in all its breathtaking complexity, forces the Congolese people and international observers to confront two agonisingly difficult questions: Can a nation truly heal without holding its most powerful figures to account? And what can justice possibly look like after decades of such immense loss?

To grapple with these questions, one must consider a central Congolese adage that speaks to the enduring nature of truth and consequence: “You can hide a fire, but you cannot hide the smoke.” This proverb captures the essence of this moment.

For decades, the alleged “fire”—the true nature of power, the origins of wealth, the engines of conflict—was hidden from public view, obscured by the fog of war, the authority of office, and a climate of fear. But the “smoke”—the tangible evidence of destruction—could never be concealed: the smoke from burnt villages in the Kivus, the grief of millions displaced, the crumbling schools, and the plundered state coffers.

This trial is the nation’s concerted effort to finally follow that smoke back to its source. It is an attempt to not just punish the individual who may have tended the fire, but to understand its fuel and ultimately, to extinguish it for good.

The answers to the questions posed by this trial, whatever they may be, will echo through the Congo Basin for generations to come. A verdict that upholds the principles of justice and accountability, however symbolic, could plant a seed of faith in the rule of law, demonstrating that no citizen, however powerful, is beyond its reach. Conversely, a verdict widely perceived as politically compromised would reinforce the bitter cynicism that has long plagued the nation, proving that the architecture of impunity remains intact.

The shadow of accountability is now cast long over the DRC. This trial has already succeeded in altering the national conversation, proving that the once-untouchable can be touched by the long arm of the law. The process itself, fraught with danger and political tension, is a testament to a courageous demand for a new national paradigm—one where the smoke of suffering finally leads to the fire of truth, and where justice, in whatever form it must take, is no longer a privilege but a right for every Congolese citizen.

Sub delegate

Joram Jojo