
Pope Leo XIV condemns brutal machete attack that killed 49 Christians during prayer in Congo
In the latest attack in a tragic long string of mass murders by Islamist terrorists in both Nigeria and the DRC, the U.N. said rebels from the Allied Democratic Forces (ADF), a sanctioned rebel group allied to Islamic State with roots in Uganda, burst into a church in the Eastern town of Komanda and set about hacking Christians who were worshipping inside with machetes and other knives. The congregation was attacked at 1 a.m. last Sunday morning, while they were on a night vigil, reportedly praying for peace.
The rebels also burnt nearby homes. Nine children are said to be among the dead. Several villagers have been abducted.
"May the blood of these martyrs become a seed of peace, reconciliation, fraternity, and love for the Congolese people," Pope Leo XIV stated from Rome. A Vatican Cardinal added that the Pope "learned with dismay and deep sorrow of the attack."
The U.N.'s Stablization Mission in the DRC, MONUSCO, expressed "deep outrage at these heinous acts of violence, which constitute serious violations of international humanitarian law and infringements on human rights."
"The killings are strategic," Illia Djadi, senior sub-Saharan researcher for Christian charity Open Doors, who support and speak up for Christians persecuted for their faith, stated. He added, "The ADF have a very clear aim: they want to turn a large part of DRC into an Islamic caliphate, like the horrific one instigated in Iraq and Syria in 2014 by Islamic State."
Contacted by Fox News Digital on Tuesday, Djadi said, "The presence of Islamic State groups across the region means that sub-Saharan Africa has become the new epicenter of jihadism." Muslims are in the minority here; it's said that Christians account for between 80-95% of the population.
70 Christians were reported beheaded, again in a church in the DRC, in February. The killings of Christians are worse in Nigeria, with Pope Leo XIV telling crowds at the Vatican that "some 200 people were murdered, with extraordinary cruelty" on June 13 in Yelewata, in Nigeria's Benue State.
According to Open Doors International's 2025 World Watch List (WWL), of the 4,476 Christians killed worldwide in WWL's latest reporting period, 3,100 of those who died (69%) were in Nigeria.
Djadi told Fox News Digital that despite President Trump's brokered peace deal in the DRC, Christians in the East of the country are still at risk. "There has been a lot of attention paid to the DRC recently, with Donald Trump spearheading a peace initiative between the DRC and Rwanda, whose rebel fighters the M23 have taken a large proportion of territories in the east of the DRC."
"However," Djadi added, "while government forces are trying to contain the M23 in the urban regions, the rural areas are left undefended. It has left a security vacuum, meaning that the ADF are free to slaughter hundreds of innocent civilians with impunity, with Christians especially at risk.
"It is the primary responsibility of (the) Congolese government to protect the whole nation, regardless of their religious faith or ethnic background. What would happen if the ADF continues its killing unopposed is too awful to contemplate."

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USA Today
an hour ago
- USA Today
From Bibles to prayer groups: What Trump's new religion memo for federal workers means
The memo provides guidance on religious expression for federal workers. Backers say it mirrors Clinton-era policies. But to others, the overtly Christian language raises First Amendment concerns. President Donald Trump is again making sure his supporters know he is doing his part to bring 'religion back to our country.' Most recently, his administration issued a memo in late July outlining to federal employees the types of religious expression allowed in the workplace. Bibles on desks. Groups joining together for prayer. An employee engaging with 'another in polite discussion of why his faith is correct and why the non-adherent should re-think his religious beliefs.' To many, it had overtly Christian-centric language, raising concerns about the rights of other religious groups. But backers say the memo reinforces existing policies for federal workers, including similar guidance during the Clinton administration. The memo, which Office of Personnel Management Director Scott Kupor issued to all federal agencies, is 'very much in line' with Trump's previous actions on religious liberty, according to University of Houston law professor James Nelson. On the campaign trail and elsewhere, Trump has often told religious audiences he would bring religion back and since his second term began has highlighted efforts that appeal to his conservative Christian supporters. Trump issued an executive order calling for federal agencies to assist in 'Eradicating Anti-Christian Bias' in February, which was followed by the establishment of the White House Faith Office and the Religious Liberty Commission. In the commission's first public meeting in June, U.S. Attorney General Pam Bondi said religious liberty had 'come under attack' in the country and vowed to protect religious freedom from 'emerging threats.' A spokesperson for the Office of Personnel Management said the July 28 memo 'reiterates existing policy' but also updates it in light of U.S. Supreme Court decisions that have upheld religious liberty. It now references, for example, a 2023 ruling in favor of a Christian U.S. Postal Service worker who objected to working on Sundays. Alliance Defending Freedom, a conservative Christian legal organization, called the new memo a 'critical step in restoring a workplace culture that respects and promotes religious freedom for every American.' 'No American should have to check their faith at the door when they walk into the workplace,' the organization's legal counsel, Michael Ross, said. But experts, including Nelson, said the memo is less attentive to the potential for religious coercion and harassment in the workplace than previous guidance. What the memo says The five-page memo starts by describing Trump as a champion of religious liberty and goes on to say that the First Amendment, federal statutes and Supreme Court rulings protect federal employees' rights to religious expression in the workplace. It then describes acceptable forms of religious expression by individual workers and groups of federal workers, including in conversations between federal employees, in interactions with the public and through expressions in areas open to the public. The examples of acceptable forms of religious expression the memo cites are from Christian and Jewish traditions. They include: It also says employees may 'engage another in polite discussion of why his faith is correct and why the non-adherent should re-think his religious beliefs.' It notes, however, that the religious employee should honor any request to end such discussion. Trump administration praised Clinton-era guidance on religious expression But these aren't new policies. Former President Bill Clinton's administration issued similar guidance in 1997. Like the more recent memo, the Clinton-era guidance also permits '(engaging) another in a polite discussion of why his faith should be embraced' and says that, if the speaker is not requested to stop, agencies 'should not restrict or interfere with such speech.' 'In a country where freedom of speech and religion are guaranteed, citizens should expect to be exposed to ideas with which they disagree,' the 1997 memo says. Trump's first administration also issued a memo on religious liberty in 2017. It called for federal agencies to "ensure that they are following' the Clinton-era guidance and referred to it as a 'useful' resource for private employers in accommodating religious expression. In other words, there's 'nothing new' about the guidance, Heritage Foundation senior legal fellow Thomas Jipping said. But he said the enforcement of laws protecting religious liberty have been 'inconsistent' across presidential administrations. Jipping referenced a 2015 Supreme Court ruling in favor of religious nonprofits that objected to the contraception mandate in President Barack Obama's Affordable Care Act. In his view, the issue is not an oversaturation of religion in public life but rather some 'very aggressive efforts' to remove it. Jipping applauded what he described as the Trump administration's corrective actions. 'Let's face it – there's a lot of folks out there who want religious people to just shut up and go to church,' he said. 'That's never been, to quote a phrase, 'the American way.' That's not freedom.' Others are more skeptical of the Trump administration's actions. The most recent memo is 'very tilted in the direction of recognizing rights of religious expression and very unconcerned or quiet about the problems that might create,' according to George Washington University professor emeritus of law Ira Lupu. He contrasted it with the Clinton-era guidance, which he called 'balanced and fair-minded" in its acknowledgment of both the religious rights of federal employees and the associated risk of religious harassment in the workplace. The memo says, for example, that federal agencies can't refuse to hire Buddhists or 'impose more onerous requirements' on Buddhist job applicants, that an employee can have a Koran on their desk and read it during breaks, that employees can wear religious apparel like crucifixes or hijabs, and that employers may not force a Jehovah's Witness to take an oath that conflicts with their religious beliefs. Lupu noted that the new Trump administration memo does not mention Muslims, Buddhists or other minority religious groups. The Office of Personnel Management spokesperson, however, said the guidance is equally applicable to members of those and other faiths. When asked about the potential for religious coercion, the spokesperson said the memo "makes clear that declining such an invitation should not be a basis for discipline." First Amendment brings 'real tension,' expert says Nelson said he views a 'real tension' between some of the memo's tenets. It cites a 2015 Supreme Court ruling, for example, that found Title VII – a section of the 1964 Civil Rights Act that bans employment discrimination – gives religious practices 'favored treatment' under the law. But the memo then goes on to say employees should "be allowed to engage in private religious expression in work areas to the same extent that they may engage in nonreligious private expression." 'I do think that ... courts may need to deal with that in the years to come,' Nelson said. Though he acknowledged some may 'raise concerns' about the guidance, Princeton University law professor Robert George said he sees 'no such tension or conflict' between the Establishment Clause, which bans the government from favoring religion over non-religion, and the right to free exercise of religion. The Supreme Court's shift away from "strict separationism" has, in his view, protected Americans' right to express their religious beliefs while also making clear that such expression cannot be presented as the viewpoint of the U.S. government or interfere with others' rights. 'So, just as government employees may freely advocate or display symbols of secular causes – think of rainbow buttons or banners, Black Lives Matter insignia and so forth – they may freely express their religious opinions and display religious symbols – subject, as the memo makes clear, to reasonable and viewpoint-neutral time, place and manner regulations,' George said. BrieAnna Frank is a First Amendment Reporting Fellow at USA TODAY. Reach her at bjfrank@ USA TODAY's coverage of First Amendment issues is funded through a collaboration between the Freedom Forum and Journalism Funding Partners. Funders do not provide editorial input.


Time Magazine
an hour ago
- Time Magazine
How Mike Johnson Became Trump's Speaker
"Don't you ever want revenge?" Donald Trump asked Mike Johnson. It was late May, and the President was in the Speaker's office venting about House Republicans who were standing in the way of his signature tax-and-spending legislation, the so-called One Big Beautiful Bill. Trump was half-kidding, but he expected allegiance, not agita. Johnson explained that seeking vengeance cut against his Christian faith. When the President gave him a stone-faced look, the Speaker offered a more practical reason: with a narrow majority, vendettas aren't an option. 'We don't have the luxury,' he told Trump. Johnson became Speaker of the House in October 2023, emerging from relative obscurity to take what one of his Republican predecessors, John Boehner, calls 'the toughest job in America.' It requires managing a conference that has for years been nearly ungovernable, while pleasing a President who expects total obeisance and tends to turn on congressional leaders who don't deliver on his demands. Expectations for Johnson in Washington were low. But he has defied them. Since Trump's Inauguration, Johnson has shepherded a series of wins for the White House: thwarting a vote blocking Trump's sweeping tariffs, passing the Laken Riley Act expediting the deportation of arrested migrants, averting a government shutdown, and delivering pro-crypto legislation that blesses certain digital assets tied to the U.S. dollar. Trump's megabill was on a different scale, a nearly $4 trillion supply-side bet that lower taxes for Big Business and the rich can stimulate enough economic growth to offset dramatic cuts in basic services for the poor. It slashes support to states for their Medicaid and food-stamp programs, and enforces work requirements that could strip health care coverage from an estimated 11.8 million people. It allocates $170 billion to complete a southern border wall and turbo-charge Trump's deportation operations. The Congressional Budget Office (CBO) -estimates the One Big Beautiful Bill Act will add $3.4 trillion or more to the national debt over the next decade. (Johnson argues it will do the opposite.) In the weeks before it came to a vote, polls showed that more than half of Americans opposed it. But Johnson got it done. 'It was very methodical, step by step,' the Louisiana native tells TIME on July 8, sitting in his ornate Capitol office, where a framed LSU football jersey with Mr. Speaker on the back hangs behind his desk. It took quiet negotiations with competing House factions; a high-stakes roll of the dice on the House floor; and, most of all, leveraging Trump's popularity to pressure dissenters. 'Getting the One Big Beautiful Bill across the finish line,' Vice President J.D. Vance tells TIME, 'was a defining moment of his speakership.' As Speaker, Johnson is not a pugilist like Newt Gingrich, nor an iron-fisted vote counter like Nancy Pelosi. As he sees it, Trump won the presidency with a mandate to reshape government, and his role is to execute that vision. Johnson has given the President what he previously lacked: a Speaker willing to turn the House into an instrument of Trump's agenda. 'We are a well-oiled machine now,' Johnson says. 'That's a very different dynamic than what took place in the first term.' That dynamic, critics say, compromises traditional Republican principles and surrenders the independent power of Congress to placate the President. 'Is he a rubber stamp, or Speaker of the House?' Democratic Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez of New York tells TIME. Johnson has handed Congress's constitutional authority to impose tariffs and approve acts of war to the White House, while looking the other way as Trump ignores the law it passed banning TikTok in the U.S. He also sent his members home a day early to defuse a fight over releasing files about the deceased sexual predator Jeffrey Epstein, whose past relationship with the President has led to a rift within Trump's base. But Johnson has succeeded in Trump's GOP in part by aligning the Legislative Branch behind Trump's goals. It's a collaboration that is changing America. Not long before he squeaked Trump's megabill through the House, Johnson feared it all might fall apart. Trump and Johnson had set a July 4 deadline to sign the measure into law. Around 2 a.m. on July 3, the Speaker was still nine votes shy of clearing a major hurdle: passing a rule setting terms for consideration of the bill on the House floor. Tucked in his private hideaway office in the Capitol, Johnson got word from a lieutenant that they might be able to win over an unlikely agitator: Representative Thomas Massie of Kentucky. Johnson was skeptical. Massie was such a perpetual thorn in the side of the GOP that House leaders didn't bother to whip his vote anymore. But when Representative Tim Burchett brought him into Johnson's office, Massie was willing to deal. He told Johnson that the attack ads Trump's super PAC had been running against him in his own district were devastating, according to multiple sources familiar with the exchange. He was open to advancing the bill, though not voting for its final passage, in exchange for a truce. Johnson got Trump on the phone, and the trio struck a compromise, the sources say: Massie would vote for the rules package, and Trump would stop the ads. (Massie's office did not respond to multiple requests for comment.) With Massie on board, the procedural motion passed on the House floor an hour later, setting the stage for the bill to pass. Johnson had prayed for such a breakthrough hours earlier, in the Capitol chapel with his wife. For the Speaker, the product of an unplanned pregnancy, religion has long been a cornerstone of his life. His parents, who were high school sweethearts raised in the Catholic Church, rejected the advice of friends to have an abortion. When Johnson was a 12-year-old growing up in Shreveport, his father Pat, a firefighter, was called to a cold-storage plant because of an anhydrous ammonia leak. An explosion erupted inside the facility, engulfing both Pat Johnson and his partner in flames. Pat Johnson suffered severe burns; at the hospital, doctors gave him a 5% chance of survival. His son dropped to his knees to pray that God spare his father. After dozens of surgeries, Pat Johnson defied the odds. 'God kind of miraculously saved his life,' the Speaker says. 'Faith became a very real thing to me.' Johnson became the first member of his family to attend college, and stayed at LSU for law school. He became a constitutional lawyer, working on religious-liberty cases and causes connected to the Christian right. In 2004, for instance, he defended a -Louisiana -constitutional amendment defining marriage as between a man and a woman. Then, in 2015, a Louisiana state representative called to say he was leaving his office for a judgeship, and suggested Johnson make a bid for the seat. Johnson ran unopposed. He had been in the gig for only a few months when then Congressman John Fleming called to say he was running for the U.S. Senate, and urged Johnson to replace him. Johnson emerged from a field of seven opponents, entering Congress in January 2017, the same month Trump first took the oath of office. One morning that April, Johnson answered a call from an unknown number. 'Is this Congressman Johnson?' a woman asked. 'The President would like to speak with you.' Johnson braced for a tough exchange. Trump had been trying to repeal the Affordable Care Act. Earlier in the week, Johnson told Speaker Paul Ryan that he wouldn't support the measure because it was projected to raise health care costs in his district by 30%. Trump didn't wait to get past the pleasantries. 'Mike, you're going to be a yes on this bill,' he said, according to Johnson. As the freshman tried to explain his position, Trump cut him off. 'Mike. You're going to be a yes.' But Johnson refused until his amendments were added. Far from starting a feud with Trump, Johnson says the episode laid a groundwork for their future partnership. 'I think he actually respected that I had that resolve,' Johnson says. Because of his legal background, the freshman secured a spot on the House Judiciary Committee. When Trump faced his first impeachment in 2019, he offered Johnson a place on his legal defense team. The next year, Johnson was one of the 147 Republicans in Congress who voted to overturn the result of the 2020 election and declare Trump the winner. When Trump was impeached a second time for inciting the Jan. 6 attack, Johnson again served on his impeachment defense team. His profile in Congress was rising, having served as chair of the Republican Study Committee, a powerful group of House conservatives, and then becoming vice chair of the Republican conference. But he was still relatively unknown until Florida Representative Matt Gaetz orchestrated the ouster of Republican Speaker Kevin McCarthy in October 2023. One by one, ambitious House Republicans stepped up and took their shot to succeed McCarthy. Conference leaders rallied around Steve Scalise, then Jim Jordan, then Tom Emmer. None could muster enough votes. For three weeks, the job remained open. The situation was becoming untenable. Democrats and Republicans alike wanted to send aid to Israel after Hamas attacked Israel on Oct. 7, but they couldn't pass legislation without a Speaker. Johnson emerged as an unlikely unity candidate—a low-profile figure with few enemies in a fractious conference. After winning an internal poll by the GOP caucus, Johnson went on to win the speakership on the fourth round of voting. One of the least-tenured members to ever hold the job, he was suddenly third in line to the presidency. Becoming Speaker, Johnson says now, 'was like being elected mayor of a town that had been hit by a nuclear bomb.' The challenges came immediately. Johnson passed an aid package to Israel and Ukraine, overcoming objections from members of his own party. Despite teaming up with Democrats to deliver the requisite votes, he pacified an obstreperous group that had booted his more seasoned predecessor after only 10 months. 'His temperament has served him well. He's a patient guy. He listens and members trust him. That is the essential ingredient to being a successful speaker,' says Boehner, who knows as well as anyone the challenges of corralling the House GOP. 'For a guy who doesn't drink, smoke, or cuss, he's a very affable guy.' Representative Andy Ogles, Johnson's Capitol Hill roommate before he became Speaker, notes that he is hands-on: 'Taking the criticism, taking notes, and then trying to come to a solution.' It doesn't hurt, Ogles adds, that Johnson can defuse tension with a good Trump impression. In February 2024, Johnson traveled to Mar-a-Lago to meet with Trump and his top advisers and devise a playbook to advance his goals through Congress if he won the election. The key was to package Trump's agenda items into reconciliation bills—budget-related measures that need only a simple majority to pass. In the months that followed, as Trump hit the trail, Johnson and his aides worked on the details. 'We planned this very carefully, over that long period,' Johnson says. Weeks after Trump's election, on New Year's Day 2025, Johnson joined congressional allies and campaign advisers in one of the dining rooms of Trump's Palm Beach mansion. Trump wanted to move quickly to make his 2017 tax cuts permanent, finish the southern border wall, and deport millions of migrants. He went around the room soliciting reactions. Trump's inner circle, including incoming White House chief of staff Susie Wiles, close confidant Stephen Miller, and Vance, were among those who floated breaking up this sweeping legislative agenda into two or three separate bills, according to three people present. Senate Republican leaders, such as majority leader John Thune and Senator Lindsey Graham, were also publicly pushing for multiple measures. Johnson argued the opposite. 'If we break it up, we will do parts of it, and the other parts will never get done,' he told Trump. The President sided with Johnson. He wanted the bill passed in the House by Memorial Day. Trump and Johnson quickly cleared procedural hurdles that had blocked past Congresses, funding the government in March and passing a budget framework in April to advance the reconciliation bill. To win over moderate Republicans in purple districts, they raised the cap on the federal deduction for state and local taxes (known as SALT) to $40,000 a year. But blue-state Republicans were hardly the only impediment. The bill irked various GOP factions, from deficit hawks to economic populists. The CBO said it would balloon the deficit, offsetting a fraction of the costs through deep cuts to Medicaid, food benefits, and clean-energy investments. Even many diehard Trump supporters grimaced, fearful of punishment at the polls. 'There's a lot of MAGA on Medicaid,' says Stephen Bannon, Trump's former chief strategist. The world's richest man was another wild card. Johnson says he collaborated with Elon Musk on the legislation during Musk's tenure running the Department of Government Efficiency. Then Musk called in early June, Johnson says, as electric-vehicle tax credits were on the brink of being eliminated. 'He was concerned about the EV mandate going away,' Johnson recalls, saying Musk asked for a reprieve. 'Elon, it's a little late,' Johnson says he told him. 'We've already passed the bill out of the House, and I was under the impression that you had fully endorsed all this.' Musk did not respond to multiple requests for comment. When Musk called the President, it did not go well, according to sources familiar with the discussion. The day after, Musk unleashed a tirade against the President on social media. Johnson says he was in the Oval Office when Musk lobbed the first round of attacks, and tried unsuccessfully to dissuade Trump from responding in kind. With Musk threatening to fund primary challenges against Republicans who voted for the bill, the fate of the legislation hung in the balance. 'It complicated things initially,' Johnson says. Many Republicans shared Musk's concerns, but in the end, few wanted to get crosswise with Trump. After the Senate tweaked the bill, Johnson rushed it back onto the floor. 'The longer it delayed, the more negotiation, the more demands of everybody, it would have been impossible,' he says. Johnson and Trump's aides began working the holdouts who were led by Representative Andy Harris of Maryland, the chair of the right-wing House Freedom Caucus. The talks were no longer about the specifics of the legislation. They were about what the members could get in exchange for supporting it. Most wanted Trump to commit to signing a suite of cost-cutting orders. Then they wanted Johnson to codify them. Others wanted more bills to cut the debt down the road. By midnight on July 2, they were still deadlocked. Johnson made a gamble, scheduling a procedural vote on the rule before he had the numbers to pass it. The high-stakes tactic had worked before on Trump's budget resolution and Ukraine aid. The thinking, he says, was to put the holdouts in a pressure cooker, facing the threat of Trump's ire. 'He's willing to really play hardball with his own internal dissenters,' says Frances Lee, a congressional scholar at Princeton University. 'He uses Trump's popularity and his own procedural authority to really put the screws to them.' The deal with Massie was the last hurdle. At 3:23 a.m., the vote passed, effectively assuring the bill would get to the President's desk for his signature. Inside the Speaker's lobby outside the House chamber, Representative Rick Allen of Georgia lifted Johnson off his feet in a bear hug. 'Only you can do this job!' Allen cried. After 14 months of planning and preparation, Johnson had gotten Trump what he wanted. When Trump signed the bill into law on July 4, Johnson gave the President a memento to mark the triumph: his Speaker's gavel. Two weeks later, Johnson delivered more wins for Trump: a $9 billion rescissions bill gutting foreign aid and public broadcasting, and the first-ever law regulating cryptocurrencies, a win for the tech-bro constituency that had helped sweep Trump back to power. Johnson quashed a rebellion from his right flank over the crypto bill: some Republicans wanted additional legislation to give crypto oversight to a friendly regulatory agency and ban the Federal Reserve from issuing its own digital currencies. To win them over, Johnson passed the first on the floor, sending it to the Senate, and promised to include the second in must-pass legislation later in the year. For now, he told them, they needed to give Trump something to herald 'Crypto Week' at the White House. There are other battles still to come: funding the government ahead of the Sept. 30 deadline and passing the National Defense Authorization Act. But the heavy lifting is done for now. The 2026 midterms will test whether voters reward or penalize Johnson's loyalty to Trump. While many of the safety-net cuts in Trump's signature legislation won't take effect until after the next election, some conservatives are skeptical that the popularity of tax cuts can overcome the unpopularity of less money for Medicaid and the economic disruption Trump has created through his tariffs. By reducing revenue and increasing spending on marquee MAGA priorities, critics say, Trump's Big Beautiful Bill comes at a steep cost to both the social contract and the nation's long-term economic health. Over time, fiscal conservatives warn, the federal government will spend more on interest paying down the debt than on national defense, with taxpayer dollars covering past borrowing rather than funding current needs. While Democrats plan to run against the legislation in the midterms, Lee says the verdict remains an open question: surveys find that most respondents disapprove of the bill, but that it has components that are popular, from tax breaks to enhanced border security. Johnson argues it will help Republicans on the campaign trail. 'We're going to be talking about it,' he says. 'We can defend it.' Johnson anticipates more challenges from his cantankerous colleagues. Already, there are signs of cracks. Even after Johnson brokered a truce between Trump and Massie, the Kentucky Republican has ramped up his attacks on both men—accusing them of suppressing the Epstein files. 'He's the only guy that could do this, because he's a nice guy,' the President said of Johnson recently at a White House meeting, according to two sources present. 'I couldn't do this.' Trump couldn't tolerate the criticism or the insubordination; he couldn't take a punch without counterpunching. In contrast, Johnson is willing to absorb the opprobrium, mediate the meltdowns, and hold together a fractured conference. He is both a punching bag and a psychiatrist for House Republicans who face the choice of either backing the President's agenda or losing their job. As always, Trump's favor has limits. Johnson has the President's backing only as long as he is loyal and productive. If the Speaker stumbles—if he fails to deliver votes, stifle dissent, or make chaos work to Trump's advantage—he risks the same fate as his predecessors. And even if Trump doesn't turn on him, voters may. A blue wave, or maybe even a ripple, would force him out of the Speaker's office. On July 18, Johnson hopped into the back seat of his armored car for the brisk ride to the White House for the bill signing. Sirens blared as the motorcade whizzed down Pennsylvania Avenue. 'It's cool for about half a day,' Johnson says of the spectacle. In the aftermath of the vote on Trump's megabill, he recalls, one of his colleagues said to him: Are you proud that you made history? Johnson laughed. 'No,' he said. 'I'm so tired of making history.'

Business Insider
4 hours ago
- Business Insider
How 2025 could mark the beginning of the end for Rwanda-Congo hostilities
Although military conflicts have long plagued Africa's Great Lakes region, the relationship between the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) and Rwanda, its eastern neighbor, saw a significant shift in 2025. Conflict in Eastern Congo escalated in 2025 with attacks by the M23 rebel group on Goma, prompting international condemnation. While Angola and other mediators failed initially, Qatar facilitated renewed dialogue between representatives of Rwanda and the DRC. U.S.-brokered discussions led to the establishment of a Joint Oversight Committee in Washington, marking a diplomatic breakthrough. What began as another tragic chapter in the ongoing instability of eastern Congo escalated into a full-blown geopolitical crisis, culminating in a series of peace talks that may yet redefine the region's future. M23's offensive in the Democratic Republic of Congo Conflict flared up again in January 2025, when the M23 rebel group, long suspected of getting help from Rwanda, launched a concerted attack on Goma, a crucial city in eastern DRC. The onslaught was savage and swift, killing hundreds of civilians and causing significant displacement. Within days, more than 900 dead were discovered on Goma's streets. The world condemned Rwanda, and it came under tremendous scrutiny for its alleged involvement in the attacks. Despite Kigali's denials of complicity, regional and international players imposed sanctions and threatened economic repercussions. A path to peace following weeks of bloodshed In early February, DRC President Félix Tshisekedi attended a joint conference of Eastern and Southern African leaders in Tanzania. The event was held in reaction to the escalating violence, which had resulted in a humanitarian crisis. Despite M23's unilateral ceasefire, their advance into Bukavu in South Kivu continued, demonstrating the fragility of any informal agreements. Recognizing the urgency, both the Southern African Development Community (SADC) and the East African Community (EAC) intervened. In a significant display of solidarity, they nominated three African politicians to promote peace talks: former Kenyan President Uhuru Kenyatta, former Nigerian President Olusegun Obasanjo, and former Ethiopian Prime Minister Hailemariam Desalegn. The mediators brought credibility, expertise, and a pan-African mandate to the bargaining table, but failed to achieve any significant milestone in creating peace. By March, Kinshasa was still adamant about not dealing directly with the M23 rebels, despite regional pressure. The DRC administration said that granting them legitimacy at the negotiating table would compromise national sovereignty and accused the organization of serving as a foreign proxy. This hardened position was reinforced even as global actors, such as the United Kingdom, called for inclusive dialogue involving all parties. Angola was introduced as a new possible mediator on March 12. In contrast to previous diplomatic attempts that mostly ignored the rebel organization, it suggested direct talks between the Congolese government and the M23. A few days later, on March 18, the Angola-led discussions collapsed as the M23 delegation left, blaming influence from other parties, mainly EU sanctions. A week later, Angola formally ended its mediation role, preferring to focus on African Union initiatives. Enter Qatar and the U.S.: A Diplomatic Pivot By late March, a new round of negotiations sprang up, this time hosted by Qatar. President Paul Kagame of Rwanda and President Félix Tshisekedi of the DRC met through Qatari mediation. A joint statement issued by both parties, together with Qatar, acknowledged previous peace initiatives, notably the Luanda and Nairobi talks, and suggested a fresh push to engage diplomatically. Qatar selected April 9 as the official date for the next round of peace negotiations in Doha. As the new diplomatic impetus grew, the United States intervened more urgently. By late April, US assistance had helped take discussions closer to a solid framework. On April 25, in Washington, Rwanda and the DRC agreed to work toward a peace and economic cooperation deal, one that emphasized mutual respect for sovereignty and the creation of a comprehensive draft agreement by May 2nd. Conditions for Peace With diplomatic lines more active than ever, the U.S. began to demand harsher terms to move the process along. Among these was the demand that Rwanda withdraw all of its military personnel from eastern Congo, a vital trust-building gesture viewed as non-negotiable by both Kinshasa and international observers. Diplomats from the United States also requested guarantees about the cessation of cross-border funding for armed groups, verification procedures, and initiatives to foster economic growth in the eastern provinces, which have been neglected and destroyed by decades of turmoil. Washington's presence added weight to the discussions and helped alter the tone from antagonism to cautious collaboration. July 31: A First Step in Implementation The culmination of these efforts occurred on July 31, 2025, when Rwanda and the DRC hosted the first meeting of their Joint Oversight Committee in Washington. This committee was entrusted with supervising the gradual implementation of the US-brokered peace deal. This encounter signaled a watershed moment in the two countries' long-strained relationship. While tensions have not been completely resolved, and suspicions remain high, the establishment of a joint committee showed a mutual acknowledgment of the importance of structured, verifiable action. It also showed the role of external diplomacy in pushing both countries toward responsibility and partnership. Long Shadows and Lingering Questions Even while these diplomatic breakthroughs provide some reassurance, the tasks ahead are severe. The underlying grievances, land rights, ethnic conflicts, regional power struggles, and rivalry for mineral wealth have not magically gone away. Similarly, trust between Kigali and Kinshasa is tenuous at best. One accord is unlikely to demolish the region's decades-long history of proxy wars and changing allegiances. Nonetheless, 2025 may be regarded as the year in which both parties made significant progress toward long-term peace. While the path ahead remains undefined, and the conflict's origins are deep, the formation of a Joint Oversight Committee and the US-backed framework for collaboration are significant steps forward.