Latest / The History of Belgium: A Small Country with a Giant Colonial Legacy — Fexingo History / The 1960 Élisabethville Massacre: Congo's Forgotten Bloodbath
Transcript
- Lucas: So, we've talked a lot about the big events of 1960 — the riots, the mutiny, the secession. But there's a story from that very same year that often gets overlooked, even though it's one of the most violent episodes in the lead-up to independence. Luna: What happened? Lucas: I'm talking about the Élisabethville massacre of January 1960. Now, Élisabethville — that's today's Lubumbashi — was the capital of Katanga province, the richest and most industrially developed part of the Belgian Congo. It was home to the Union Minière du Haut-Katanga, the giant copper mining company. So there was a lot of economic interest there, and also a unique political landscape. Lucas: You see, in Katanga, the local politics were dominated by ethnic tensions, particularly between the Luba and the Lunda. The Luba had migrated to the mining areas in large numbers, while the Lunda were the traditional aristocracy. The Belgian administration often favored the Lunda, which created deep resentment. And into this mix came a political party called CONAKAT, led by Moise Tshombe. CONAKAT championed a federalist vision, but it was essentially a Lunda-dominated party that wanted to keep Katanga's wealth within the province, and it was openly hostile to the centralizing tendencies of Patrice Lumumba's MNC. Luna: So Tshombe was playing the ethnic card. Lucas: Exactly. And the Luba had their own party, the BALUBAKAT, which favored a more unified Congo. So you had this volatile mix of ethnic identity, economic interests, and national politics. On January 11, 1960, CONAKAT held a political rally in Élisabethville. It was meant to galvanize support, but it quickly transformed into something far more sinister. Lucas: Reports from that day describe CONAKAT militants, armed with machetes and spears, attacking Luba residents in the African quarters of the city. The violence spread rapidly. The Force Publique, the colonial army, was called in to restore order. But instead of protecting the Luba, they sided with the attackers — or at least did nothing to stop them. By the end of the day, dozens of Luba men, women, and children had been killed. The official count was around thirty, but survivors and later investigations suggest the real number was much higher. Luna: So the colonial army just watched? Lucas: It seems that way. Some accounts say the Force Publique actually joined in the violence, or used the chaos to suppress any perceived troublemakers. The Belgian administration's response was telling. Governor General Hendrik Cornelis, who we've mentioned before, downplayed the events, calling it an 'inter-tribal conflict' rather than a political massacre. He even praised Tshombe for his 'moderation', which is pretty astonishing given what happened. Luna: Wow. So the Belgians were basically complicit. Lucas: Complicit might be a strong word, but they were certainly indifferent. They saw the violence as a tribal matter, not something that held them accountable. The massacre was a clear warning of what was to come — that the transition to independence would be bloody if not managed carefully. And in fact, the violence only escalated after independence, with the Katangese secession and the civil war. Lucas: But here's the thing: the Élisabethville massacre is rarely discussed in the standard histories of Congolese independence. It's a footnote, if that. And that's partly because the colonial administration actively suppressed the story. They imposed censorship on the local press, and they discouraged any investigation. So the victims and their families never got any justice, and the memory of that day was buried. Luna: That's so sad. And it makes me think about how much history is just… lost. Lucas: Absolutely. And it raises a bigger question: how many other such events have been conveniently forgotten? The massacre was a direct result of the colonial policy of divide and rule — the Belgians had intentionally favored certain ethnic groups over others, and then when it exploded, they looked away. Lucas: There's a detailed account in a book by a historian named Jean-Luc Vellut, who compiled testimonies from survivors. One survivor, a Luba man named Joseph Kanyanga, described how he hid in a church for two days while the killing went on. He said the Force Publique officers were 'watching, smoking cigarettes', while the CONAKAT men did their work. That's a chilling image. Luna: It really is. And the fact that the Belgians were just standing by… Lucas: It's a pattern you see throughout colonial history. The Belgians wanted to maintain control, and they often turned a blind eye to violence that served their interests. Tshombe was seen as a useful ally, a counterweight to Lumumba. So they protected him, even after the massacre. And that had long-term consequences, because Tshombe went on to lead the secession, with Belgian and even American support. Luna: And that secession led to the chaos of 1960-63, and ultimately to Mobutu's coup. Lucas: Exactly. So in a way, the massacre in Élisabethville was a small but significant piece of the puzzle. It revealed the fault lines that would tear the country apart. And it also showed that the Belgian administration was not interested in justice for Congolese people, only in political expediency. Lucas: There's also a personal angle here. My great-uncle, actually, was a colonial official in Élisabethville at the time. And he never talked about it. It was only after he died that we found his letters, and in one of them, he described 'a day of shame' — his words — but he didn't go into detail. It makes you wonder what he saw. Luna: That's haunting. So this history is not just abstract; it's in your family. Lucas: Right. And that's why I feel it's important to bring these stories to light. It's not about blaming individuals, but about understanding how colonial systems allowed such violence to happen and then bury it. The memory of the massacre is still alive in Lubumbashi today, but it's a suppressed memory, a trauma that hasn't been processed. Lucas: And it's interesting, because the city itself has been renamed, but the memories remain. The street where the violence happened is now called Avenue de la Libération, but some residents still refer to it as the 'blood street'. Luna: It's like the city is trying to forget, but the people can't. Lucas: Precisely. And that's the power of history. It doesn't just disappear because we want it to. It shapes the present, even if we don't acknowledge it. So, in this episode, we're trying to do what the colonial administration never did: give the victims a chance to be heard, even if it's decades later. Luna: That's a powerful mission. And I think it's worth saying that this kind of research — digging into archives, reading testimonies, trying to piece together what actually happened — it takes a lot of time and effort. And that's something that we're able to do because of the support of our listeners. Lucas: Yeah, absolutely. If you've been following along with our series on colonial history, and you value this kind of deep dive, consider supporting the show on buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. It's what keeps us going, and it allows us to bring you these stories that others might overlook. Luna: And we really appreciate it. It makes a difference. Lucas: So, back to the massacre. There's another layer to this that I think is important. The violence didn't just happen in a vacuum. It was part of a broader pattern of political intimidation and ethnic manipulation that was happening across the Congo as independence approached. The Belgians were preparing to leave, but they didn't want to leave chaos behind — or rather, they wanted to leave a government that was favorable to their interests. So they allowed Tshombe to build his power base, even if it meant stoking ethnic hatred. Luna: So the massacre was almost… a byproduct of their strategy? Lucas: That's a harsh but fair way to put it. And it's a reminder that the consequences of colonial policy don't end with independence. The ethnic tensions that were exacerbated by the Belgians continue to affect the DRC today. The Katanga region has seen repeated conflicts, and the Luba-Lunda enmity has never fully healed. Lucas: One last thing. In the aftermath of the massacre, the colonial government did hold an inquiry, but it was a sham. They blamed the violence on 'tribal hatred' and refused to consider any political motivation. No one was ever prosecuted. And that impunity set a precedent — it told the Congolese people that violence against them would go unpunished, especially if it was directed by the right people. Luna: And that's a legacy that's hard to shake. Lucas: It is. But by talking about it, we're at least starting to acknowledge it. And that's the first step towards any kind of reckoning. So, that's the story of the Élisabethville massacre. It's a dark chapter, but it's one that deserves to be remembered.