I’ve come to think of the Congo as a vast battered family.
There seems to be a kind of systemic dysfunction throughout the country. Is that a fair statement? If you’ve been part of any ongoing work in Congo, you’ve probably found the same thing we have: much of what we Westerners think of as essential accountability is just not assumed there as it is here. The country has been ranked second to last on earth for running a business.
And then there’s the violence. The senseless, relentless violence.
We have the good fortune to know and work with some really capable people in Congo. We continue learning a lot from our many Congolese friends, in many ways. I don’t mean, in what I say here, to underestimate or disrespect all that is good in them and so many other Congolese people. Nor do I mean to treat the Congolese as children. Adults are victims of domestic violence too.
But look at it: For at least the past 125 years, everyone who has had power over the people of Congo has abused them to one degree or another. From brutal King Leopold’s personal domination through the long Belgian colonial period (marked by the abuse of apartheid and conscripted labor, and a neglect to give the Congolese any experience in governing or other economic, professional, and societal skills they would need). From an independence in 1960 that they were completely unprepared to stabilize, through continuing unrest capped off with the civil wars beginning in 1996 and the violence that persists in places today.
Whether a colonial or national government or local warlords, there has always been somebody beating on the Congolese people. Even today, the Congolese army that is supposed to be protecting the people from the militias has itself been widely accused of wanton rape and killing. Meanwhile, the wealth that accrues from the lucrative mines in the southeast never eases the lives of ordinary citizens, going rather to line silk pockets and fuel militia massacres.
Now: A battered family is menaced by physical violence. Check. The abuser dominates their life, leaving them powerless in essential ways. Check. And beneath the visible damage, they suffer neglect and deprivation. Check
And the effects of all this? I ran this whole image past Byron (Miller, our executive director), and he responded by asking, “So what does this mean for how we work with the people?”
If this framework holds any water — if it does– then what does it mean for us who seek to work with the people of Congo to help them build better lives? I’ve got just one possible answer right now, but I’m going to save that for another post. Meanwhile, we would welcome any insights you may have — on that or on the appropriateness of the image itself.
By Sally Johnson
sally.johnson@paulcarlson.org
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