Kabila's fall spells more pain for heart of Africa

Month by month, from the time he came to power in 1997, President Laurent-Désiré Kabila gained only one thing - enemies.

Month by month, from the time he came to power in 1997, President Laurent-Désiré Kabila gained only one thing - enemies.

If, as was claimed last night by his foes and later confirmed by the Belgian government, President Kabila has been murdered, his death will solve nothing for the Democratic Republic of Congo. It is likely to deepen regional instability and could be a fatal blow to his staunchest ally, President Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe.

If, as his interior minister insisted last night, President Kabila is "issuing orders" from a hospital bed after being shot by one of his own men, the mutiny or attempted coup still marks the most decisive blow so far against Mobutu Sese Seko's successor.

The rotund guerrilla - who despite coming to power by the gun in 1997 was hailed by Madeleine Albright as chief among a "new generation" of African leaders she assumed to be democrats - began losing his grip on power even before the August 1998 start of the world's biggest war, now directly involving seven countries.

Too compromised during his long ascent to power in the former Belgian colony, Mr Kabila barely controlled the entirety of Africa's third largest country - bigger than France, Germany, Spain and the UK put together. If the 32-year rule of Marshall Mobutu, supported by the West, was brutal, it prevented the Balkanisation of the huge mineral-rich territory. From the start, President Kabila was the wrong person to keep the country together.

Brought to power by Rwandan military forces, Mr Kabila soon found himself threatened by them. His decision to expel Rwandans from Kinshasa in August 1998 sparked the war.

Angola, Namibia and Zimbabwe rallied to his cause, claiming that it was crucial to prevent the break-up of the Democratic Republic of Congo. The international community dithered, the allies' military commitment failed to develop into supremacy and their principles collapsed into a scramble for the country's wealth.

The other side - rebels backed principally by Uganda and Rwanda - has been no better. They entered the war on an ethnic pretext but evolved their respective strategies in relation to attainable mineral deposits. Uganda last year made nearly as much money from gold exports as from coffee, despite having hardly any reserves.

There is justification for the view that the Democratic Republic of Congo is too big and too diverse to survive. Its capital, Kinshasa, is situated in the far west of a country so neglected that it has no roads or infrastructure to bind it together. Hutu and Tutsi rivalries - and memories of the 1994 Rwandan genocide - serve to accentuate differences.

As the war has progressed, anti-Kabila forces have gained the upper hand. More than two million civilians have been forced to flee their homes and the rebels have transformed the east of the country into warlords' fiefdoms where tribes and sub-clans clash.

Three weeks ago, several thousand people - including pro-Kabila soldiers - fled into northern Zambia. At the same time, it was reported that Rwanda and Uganda were stepping up their support for an offensive. However, no new attack has materialised. Uganda is only weeks away from an election and this war is not a vote-winner, especially with refugees now flooding in.

A ceasefire agreement negotiation in Lusaka in July 1999 was violated by all parties and ultimately led to the armies' positions being frozen without an end to fighting. Amid futile southern African attempts to broker peace, the international community has lost interest and the United Nations has failed to deploy troops.

In the DRC, any existing sense of organisation has collapsed. Mr Kabila's government's revenues from diamond exports have dropped and civil servants - including most soldiers - go for months without pay. In the east, both Rwanda and Uganda have reportedly integrated rebel-held territory administratively into their civil services. President Kabila showed little inclination towards peace - failing to turn up for summits and rejecting a facilitator appointed by the Organisation of African Unity to help start talks between the government, the opposition and the rebels. His allies, foremost among them Mr Mugabe, told him for months that they wanted out; the war was too costly and the pay-offs too small.

If, as seemed likely late last night, President Kabila is dead, a vacuum of historic proportions has opened up in southern Africa. There is no obvious successor - the government in Kinshasa is made up of Kabila's cronies and family members.

Now diplomats face a herculian challenge: to lead seven warring countries to the negotiating table at a time when they will be tempted to launch the endgame.