Rwandan-backed military group M23 is making inroads into Congo’s territory, taking the city of Goma in a strategic coup.
Eastern Congo is home to some of the richest minerals on Earth. This African region, dug at by hand in primitive conditions, produces gold and — particularly — coltan, a tech-friendly material that goes into a whole host of advanced products.
M23 has been accused of violating human rights and of murdering prisoners. Not surprisingly, Congo’s military also faces accusations.
American companies do not want to invest in Congo. Canada, Australia and Brazil all produce coltan, and their countries are all stable, Western nations with the rule of law and secure police protection behind them. The U.S. prefers them over the Congo, even though — who knows? — Congo may dwarf them in production.
The dilemma facing Congo is how to access world markets legitimately, bringing much-needed wealth to average citizens, while fending off incursions from the Rwandans.
The Rubaya mines have been the epicenter of the bloodshed. There, workers labor by hand with shovels to get at the precious rich minerals, which are traded by Lebanese or Chinese middlemen for transshipment elsewhere.
Africa is a continent rich in untapped resources. If there was a secure port connection on the coast to the interior where Congo is located, Congo would be booming. If there were courts and normal procedures, Congo would be booming. And most of all, if the civil war went away, there would be a drastic improvement in living standards, provided that government figures did not intercept more than their fair share of the profits.
The notion of “civil society” is sorely lacking in Congo and elsewhere in Africa. Congo remains a test tube case for the problems challenging African legitimacy and self-development. There, ancient tribal divisions which the capital Kinshasa cannot control play out in the arena of an artificial state that is a legacy of European colonialism even today.
For Congo and the Rubaya mines to improve, somebody has to go to school and get an education and lay the smackdown on all parties intent on being divisive and chaos-breeding. You need a man who knows the region, loves the country, and has the brains and aggressiveness to set things right. And then you need the civil structures such as the courts to take over from such a man. A system to replace a man.
There is precedent for this. Francisco Franco was the fascist dictator in Spain whose rule was gradually phased out in favor of democracy and a symbolic kingship. (The Moxy Fruvous song, “King of Spain,” is a particular favorite of mine.) Today, Spain has a thriving democracy and the rule of law — not rule of the fist — is firmly established. In the modern economic world, you need even governments to be held accountable by the courts. Contracts must be honored. A middle class must be nurtured, and then protected. Congo has none of this, and is suffering commensurately.
Stakeholders in the mines — and unexplored mines yet to yield up their riches — have got to get together to work things out rationally, after the fighting is suppressed like the wild brushfire that it is. What Congo needs is a Roman Republic general to assume the mantle of “imperator” and temporarily apply the hammerblow of force to the situation — and then to give up the power and return to private life. Only then — only then — can a fragile system take hold and gain roots…
Dark Sport 
Unfortunately money makes businessmen lose their minds and in order to find profits they are willing to kill a lot of people without any mercy. We live in a very ugly world from this point of view…
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It is the military doing the killing, not businessmen. M23 is supported by the state of Rwanda. Businessmen generally shy away from violence, or we would have violent daily clashes in the major cities of the Western world as companies sought to position themselves for the next corporate assault.
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let’s hope the Congo gets its ‘imperator’ without the loss of too many more lives —
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I care about Congo about as little as I care about Palestine. They’re both just places on a map to me. The true meaning of my life is found in Storyland Ontario.
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it’s good you found that place, Greg; I reckon I have: close to family , well, one daughter and close to a lake and the sea —
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I’m glad you have a home you love. As of this date of writing, I have yet to move back to the Toronto area even though I write as though I’m already there. It’s like that country music song about the man being in the grass and life of his homestead: I’m already there in my thoughts and hopes. I’ll be there soon enough.
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it’ll be great when you get there, Greg: I’m cheering you on 🙂
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I truly wish there were no wars. That would be ideal. But sadly, that seems impossible within the global system we live in. I agree with you that some degree of order is necessary for Congo to move forward. Given how fragile the situation is, perhaps someone does need to take control temporarily to restore stability and protect the people. However, I’m not sure Spain is the best comparison in this case.
The two countries are radically different in history and context. Spain is a European country that once held colonies across Latin America. Even though it was weakened compared to powers like Britain or the U.S. when Franco took power, it was still a colonizer. The Democratic Republic of the Congo, on the other hand, is a former colony, brutally exploited and left with borders and internal divisions inherited from European imperialism, as you mentioned.
Geographically, the difference is even more striking. The DRC is massive (over 2.3 million square kilometers) landlocked at the heart of Africa with just a narrow outlet to the sea.
Spain, by contrast, is much smaller (about 506,000 square kilometers) but it has direct maritime access and is deeply integrated into European trade and political networks.
The idea of a strongman fixing everything might work in theory, but history shows us what usually happens: if such a leader has even a hint of anti-imperialism or threatens Western interests, they’re removed, by force, by coup, or worse.
Sadly, Africa is still treated like Europe’s backyard, just as Latin America continues to be seen as the backyard of the United States. Real freedom and quality of life for the people in these regions would require breaking out of that subordinate position, achieving real sovereignty, but that won’t happen anytime soon.
The interests at play aren’t just those of the U.S. and European capitalist classes, they’re also shared by our own elites and military, who actively support this structure and prefer to remain subordinate. So there’s not much that can be done.
Just to be clear, I don’t say this from a place of victimhood, quite the opposite. I’m just a writer, and my opinion on all this doesn’t really matter. I wish things were different, but they won’t be. So I resign myself to doing what I can: trying to create better conditions for myself and my family.I
I used to believe I could change the world. Now, I realize I can’t even create my own art. As you mocked once, I’m left writing texts for no one to read. In my day job, I write for millions, crafting content for major clients in Brazil, with blogs that garner massive traffic. Considering the number of high-profile clients I’ve served, I might be one of the most-read Brazilian authors. Yet, my name isn’t on those pieces, and they’re just SEO-driven articles designed to rank, not to resonate.
So, I say screw it. I’ll become a dog, but not in the ancient Cynic sense of abandoning everything, but in the multifaceted ways I explore in this essay: adapting, discerning, and persisting. I
If you’re interested in delving deeper into these modes of being, I invite you to read my essay:
https://thebrazilianmutt.wordpress.com/2025/05/10/modes-of-being-a-dog-logic-contradiction-and-becoming/
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I really appreciate your lengthy and well-thought-out comment. I have to write a new post for my blog so I cannot devote the time a proper reply deserves; however, I have gone to your site and read and replied to your modes of being a dog essay and will start a dialogue on that, if you like.
In terms of today’s comment, I think you overestimate the control Europe has over Africa. It might be better if this were truly so. As it is, Congo — and sub-Saharan Africa at large — is rudderless and masterless, and therein lies the problem.
* * *
I was fascinated to have a glimpse into your real life. I am truly impressed with your work and am sure you do a damn good job of it. You communicate in English 100 times better than a native speaker ever would. The thing is, you CAN create your own Art — if you’re willing to live a life of poverty and neglect. Many of the most famous thinkers in history lived financially meager lives and were barely one step above subsistence level. All you have to do is quit your job and dedicate yourself to producing works of literary greatness. But that, I think, is something you’re unwilling to do.
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Thanks again for the thoughtful reply and for taking the time to read my essay. I really appreciate the generous words about my English. That doesn’t come easy, so it means a lot.
About our disagreement: I don’t think I overestimate the influence of Europe over Africa or of the U.S. over Latin America, though I do see where you’re coming from. You’re probably right that it’s not about direct control anymore. But that’s the thing: domination today rarely looks like it used to. It’s not about troops or flags or formal colonies. It’s economic and cultural. It’s in who gets to set the standards, who controls the financial flows, who shapes the narrative.
I won’t pretend to speak for Africa. It’s a massive and complex continent, far bigger than Europe, and reducing it to a single unit (“Africa”) does a disservice to its diversity. Here in the Americas, we often fall into that trap of idealizing or simplifying the continent. I do hope to travel to some African countries one day, if money and life ever allow. But what I can speak about more directly is Brazil.
Here, there’s a deeply rooted subservience to the U.S. among our elites, a kind of cultural inferiority complex. It’s one of the reasons I named my blog The Brazilian Mutt. Our elite despises our own art, culture, and people. They admire and consume what comes from the U.S. almost exclusively, travel, education, cinema, science, you name it. Everything local is automatically seen as worse. Even philosophy.
In the U.S. or Europe, middle-class kids can choose to study philosophy or the arts and, sure, there might be some resistance, but it’s nothing compared to what we deal with here. In Brazil, if you go to college for philosophy, music, or fine arts, people often see you as a slacker or a burnout. There’s a deeply ingrained logic of doing over thinking. You’re told that if you think too much, you’ll starve, and honestly, it’s not entirely wrong. Our elites fund and value foreign production. Local culture? Not so much.
That’s actually one of the reasons I write in English. There’s a sad but true pattern here: sometimes you have to be recognized abroad before you’re taken seriously at home. It happened with Paulo Coelho. Say what you will about his work, but he only got real recognition in Brazil after becoming a global bestseller. And even then, he’s still mocked. Same goes for Romero Britto and others. The Brazilian elite, even the intellectual one, often sees popular local work as poor or vulgar. That’s part of our vira-lata (mutt) syndrome.
And it’s not just cultural. Our capitalist elites hoard money in Switzerland, vacation in Disney, and our military isn’t much different. Bolsonaro, our first military president since the end of the dictatorship, literally saluted the U.S. flag when elected. No president had ever done that, not even the generals of the past. You see U.S. flags on cars here, radio stations that play only English music, movie theaters that only screen Hollywood films. It’s a kind of soft power that’s much more pervasive than hard power ever was. It doesn’t dominate by force, but by aspiration. It’s power that dominates not by fear, but by hope. People here don’t just fear the U.S. Many want to be it.
I suspect the situation in Africa has some parallels. France, for instance, only recently began to let go of the CFA franc in West Africa, a currency arrangement that benefited France long after formal colonization ended.
The colonial empires may be gone on paper, but the relationships, the dependencies, the echoes remain.
As for your suggestion that I could make art if I just accepted a life of poverty, I get what you’re saying, but I think there’s some romanticism in that view. Poverty here isn’t noble or generative. It’s violent, degrading, and often deadly. It’s not just about “living on little.” It’s about systemic exclusion, hunger, and the erasure of possibility. If you saw the conditions in some of the places here, I don’t think you’d idealize it quite so much.
Yes, I write SEO content to pay the bills. And no, it’s not always fulfilling. But I don’t think writing under capitalism makes me less of a writer. It’s survival. I’ll keep creating in the gaps, between jobs and deadlines.
Maybe that’s not heroic, but it’s honest.
Let’s keep talking.
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I agree, let’s keep talking. You have a fascinating worldview that is educating me on so much. You know more about North America than I do about South America — and perhaps that’s the result of a power imbalance that plays out every day in our Hemisphere.
The Western Hemisphere is rich beyond imagining, even Latin America shares in the wealth. It’s unfortunate that the U.S. is valued so highly, but is it far wrong to admire it? America is a giant unparalleled in world history. It does almost everything (except health care) RIGHT. Let’s face it: Portugal was a less efficient birthing agent than England was. The English have always been a proficient people; the Portuguese, not so much so. I believe Brazil is EXCEEDING its Portuguese past, but still has work to do.
As far as I know, Embraer is the exception to the pattern, but foreshadows a great future. As the third largest producer of civil aircraft in the world, it has clawed its way up in a vicious capitalist industry despite what local elites might see as the “handicap” of being Brazilian. If it is indeed a handicap to be Brazilian, that would make Embraer’s accomplishment all the more impressive.
I have of course heard of Paulo Coelho, although I haven’t read his work. I sometimes think if there ever was a global thermonuclear war, Brazil would be the biggest beneficiary of the destruction of the Northern Hemisphere. It would be largely intact, and it would be the natural inheritor of Western Civilization. It is fascinating to envisage a situation in which Sao Paolo was the biggest surviving city in the world. I think you’d find the insecurity complex rapidly fading in such a situation, replaced by an aggressive global militarism/adventurism. Ta Hah!
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Thanks for the thoughtful reply again, Greg. There’s a lot in your comment to respond to, and I appreciate the openness to continue this exchange. Let me touch on one specific point that I think reveals an important historical distinction: the idea that England was simply a “more efficient birthing agent” than Portugal.
That notion actually speaks less to cultural efficiency and more to the very different models of colonization applied in North vs. South America. The English (as well as the French and other European powers that attempted to colonize North America) followed a settler-colonial model — it was about occupation and permanent habitation, not just extraction. The goal was to populate and expand, often displacing native populations entirely, and setting up institutions, towns, farms, and later, industrial economies.
In contrast, Portuguese colonization of Brazil (like Spanish colonization elsewhere in Latin America) was predominantly extractive. The interest was in taking resources — sugar, gold, rubber, wood, and later coffee — and sending them back to Europe. The Portuguese didn’t come to stay in large numbers. They came to extract and return. That changes the entire trajectory of cultural, social, and institutional development.
That’s also why so many more enslaved Africans were brought to Brazil and the Caribbean than to North America. The transatlantic slave trade was a foundational pillar of South American colonial economies. This legacy has shaped a society that is profoundly African in heritage. Racism certainly exists here too (no illusions about that) but it manifests differently. And importantly, it is being confronted in many ways, both socially and intellectually.
Another historical nuance: during the Napoleonic Wars, the Portuguese royal family actually fled to Brazil and made Rio de Janeiro the capital of the empire for a period. This created a deep but complicated entanglement between Portugal and Brazil. And ironically, it was the British who made that escape possible, since Portugal was a long-time ally of England. All of this history complicates the idea of “efficiency” in colonization. It’s not just about results. It’s about structure, intention, and consequence.
This history of extractive colonization had long-term demographic consequences. By the late 18th century, Brazil had a population that was overwhelmingly composed of enslaved Africans, far outnumbering white Europeans. Unlike the settler colonies of the north, where the demographic goal was to “plant” European society, here the economy and social structure were built on forced labor and the violent displacement of both Indigenous and African peoples.
While much of the Western world began abolishing slavery during the 19th century, the Brazilian Empire took a very different route. Instead of emancipation leading to integration and equity, Brazil engaged in a deliberate project of “whitening” the population. Before and after slavery was abolished (only in 1888), the government incentivized mass European immigration, not just to work, but explicitly to “dilute” the Black population through miscegenation policies. It was eugenics wrapped in nationalism.
This unique colonial and post-colonial legacy makes Brazil in the 21st century radically different from much of the world. We’re not a nation built on a singular identity or cultural narrative. We’re a global nation, transnational by nature, with people from every continent.
This includes the deep African heritage that permeates our music, food, spirituality, language, and politics. We’re still learning how to deal with it, how to respect, acknowledge, and integrate that African heritage after centuries of erasure and marginalization. The legacy of slavery is not behind us; it’s alive in our structures and perceptions. But so is the potential for something new.
In contrast to the United States (where slavery was abolished in 1865) or other countries that ended it even earlier, Brazil was one of the last in the Western world to do so. That delay has shaped not just our racial dynamics, but our entire sense of time, justice, and national identity.
We are, in many ways, living with unresolved ghosts. But maybe that’s also what gives Brazil a certain latent power, that is, the possibility of imagining a different path, if we choose to face those ghosts directly.
As for your imaginative scenario where Brazil becomes the survivor of a global nuclear war, it’s an intriguing vision. I’ve thought about that too, in a way. But I also fear that in any actual nuclear conflict, we’d face something closer to the aftermath imagined in The Road (both the novel and the film). A bleak, scorched, lightless world. I’ve considered writing about this (it’s one of those speculative ideas I’m still developing) but I agree: there’s something compelling about imagining unexpected centers rising from collapse. Still, the idea of an unscathed Brazil feels more like a narrative of hope than a likely outcome.
Finally, I want to say this: I do admire a lot about the U.S. and the so-called “West.” There are technological, institutional, and artistic achievements worth studying and learning from. But I also think there’s a great deal to admire elsewhere — in Africa, Asia, Latin America, the Indigenous Americas — and I’m deeply skeptical of any civilizing mission imposed on the world. People are not savages.
If anything, I believe we need to take “savage thought” more seriously, and I don’t mean that in a derogatory sense. I mean the kind of knowledge that comes from Indigenous peoples, from those who live with the land rather than on top of it. That’s why I often write about thinkers like Ailton Krenak on my blog. I don’t think we need a new civilization. I think we need to reforest thought — literally and metaphorically.
We don’t need a civilizing mission. We need a “forestizing” mission, a mission to replant, reconnect, reimagine. If we want a future at all, that’s the path forward.
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I wasn’t aware of Portugal’s extractive approach to Brazil. But if that’s the case, how did there come to be a hundred million white people in Brazil? If they started so late, you’d think the population would have remained small, yet it’s huge.
I’m not sure why exactly you’re worshipping the blacks. That’s a common thing among left-wingers; in America, liberal news anchors would literally swoon at black politician Barack Obama’s press conferences and grown men would act like little girls. I have a sneaking suspicion that the left wing is as unimpressed by the blacks as anyone else — they just pin their hopes and dreams on this “mystery population” that they don’t understand either.
I disagree about taking “savage thought” more seriously. We live in a fully industrialized, highly technological world. There’s a reason old people are brushed aside instead of being taken seriously as elders. It’s because they’re obsolete and their knowledge and ways are defunct, only holding us back…. Hey, that’s a great idea for a post! I’ve got to cut this short, Victor. I’m going to write Sunday’s post, schedule it for tomorrow!!
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Greg,
Thanks again for continuing the exchange. That said, I need to respond seriously to some of the assumptions and language in your last comment.
When you asked how there can be “a hundred million white people” in Brazil, you seem to have missed a key point I had already explained: there was a state-sponsored project of “whitening” the population that lasted from before the end of slavery well into the 20th century — at least until the end of the Vargas regime. Both during and after slavery, Brazil actively incentivized mass immigration from Europe, especially from Germany, Italy, Portugal, and Eastern Europe.
While some Europeans were killing each other in two world wars, many of them came to Brazil, particularly to the underpopulated South, where I live. Until the 20th century, this region was sparsely inhabited. My grandparents, for example, didn’t even speak Portuguese. My grandmother only learned it after marrying my grandfather — both of them were born and raised in isolated German-speaking colonies in the interior of Santa Catarina. Even today, there are towns here where German is still the dominant language.
And it’s not just Germans. There are regions of Brazil that are predominantly Japanese, Chinese, Lebanese, Moroccan, and so on. The key difference between Brazil and countries like the U.S. is that we mix. We don’t live in ethnically segregated neighborhoods or communities in the same way. Sure, there are social inequalities and tensions (no illusions there) but people, cultures, religions, and ancestries blend here in ways that are deeply unique.
You mentioned Christ in your previous comment on my essay, interpreting that emotionally, almost as if I were caught up in the image of a Catholic Jesus. But here, Christ has multiple meanings. Saints, orishas, ancestors, and archetypes merge in a deeply syncretic faith you won’t find anywhere else in the world. That’s the beauty of Brazil, it’s a land of contradiction and synthesis.
Yes, I admire Black people and Black culture in Brazil and in the world, of course I do. It’s amazing. From samba to capoeira, from Candomblé to funk carioca, from literature to activism, it’s a cultural force that has shaped my country profoundly. The same goes for Indigenous cultures, which existed here long before Portugal ever arrived. If you can’t see that value, it may be because you’re stuck in a narrative that still echoes Manifest Destiny, one of the most eugenic, supremacist frameworks in Western history, with all due respect.
The U.S. is not the pinnacle of civilization. It’s a society that claims to be post-industrial but only because it outsourced its industry to the Global South, and now it’s paying the price. Rather than take responsibility for its decline, it blames immigrants, the very people whose labor helped build its power. That’s just plain denial. And denial is a river.
So yes, I will continue to celebrate Black and Indigenous culture, and I won’t apologize for it. You mock it because you don’t know it. You don’t know samba, you don’t appreciate rhythm or oral tradition, and you don’t want to. You dismiss it from a place of ignorance and superiority.
And no, I don’t believe people are racist or sexist. I believe people become through structures. Racism and sexism are systemic, and your worldview (whether you see it or not) aligns with those structures. You present yourself as contrarian and subversive, as an iconoclast, but in reality, you reinforce the very systems you claim to critique. You’re not outside the machine, you’re just a cog, well-oiled and functioning.
You’re a skilled writer, Greg. You’re creative. But your arrogance, your sense of superiority, will only isolate you. It won’t draw people in; it’ll repel anyone who believes in dignity, complexity, and shared humanity.
I don’t know if I’ll read your Sunday post. If it carries the same closed, supremacist tone as your last message, then no, it’s not of any interest to me. I want dialogue, not monologue. I want exchange, not dominance. I want ideas that invite reflection, not declarations of civilizational hierarchy.
Let’s see which direction you choose.
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Here we see a fine example of a burgeoning conversation between Brazilian Mutt and Greg Nikolic, who are both among the top 1% of commenters on the Net.
What Brazilian Mutt brings to the table is inestimable. His vast knowledge, erudite wit and noble bearing all enhance an already superb website in Dark Sport; rendering it more powerful still. It’s all for the benefit of Dark Sportsters everywhere.
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