In the Democratic Republic of the Congo, the earth is rich in ways the surface rarely reveals gently.

Beneath red soil and green hills lie seams of cobalt, copper, coltan, lithium, and gold—minerals that power smartphones, electric cars, aircraft engines, and the invisible circuitry of modern life. On the surface, though, the roads are often broken, the checkpoints many, and the weight of that buried wealth has long arrived not as prosperity, but as conflict.

In places like Rubaya and Kolwezi, the ground is never simply ground.

It is labor. It is leverage. It is sometimes war.

This week, in Kinshasa, the government announced the creation of a new paramilitary force tasked with guarding the country’s vast mining operations—a force backed by $100 million in funding and partnerships from the United States and the United Arab Emirates.

The announcement was framed in the language of order.

Officials called it a “special unit” meant to secure the entire mineral exploitation chain: from mine shafts and processing plants to roads, convoys, and border crossings. The first 2,500 to 3,000 recruits are expected to begin six months of military-linked training and become operational by December. By the end of 2028, the force could grow to more than 20,000 personnel across Congo’s 22 mining provinces.

It is an ambitious vision.

And in Congo, ambition is often shaped by the geography of insecurity.

For decades, the country’s eastern provinces have been fractured by armed groups, illicit trafficking networks, and shifting alliances that thrive in the shadows of the mining economy. The M23 rebellion, widely reported to have backing from neighboring Rwanda, has seized territory in the east, including areas rich in coltan and tantalum. Other militias move through forests and hills, taxing miners, intercepting shipments, and turning mineral wealth into ammunition.

In such a landscape, security becomes a commodity of its own.

Kinshasa says the new guard will replace conventional military forces currently stationed in mining zones, allowing the national army to focus elsewhere while improving oversight, traceability, and investor confidence. Rafael Kabengele, head of the General Inspectorate of Mines, said the initiative is part of President Félix Tshisekedi’s effort to “clean up” the sector and reduce corruption, smuggling, and opaque trade routes.

The language is modern: transparency, governance, traceability.

The history is older.

Congo’s minerals have drawn foreign interests for generations—from colonial extraction to Cold War maneuvering to the global scramble for battery metals in the green-energy age. Today, Washington is seeking to reduce China’s dominance over critical mineral supply chains, and Congo has become central to that effort.

The country produces around 70% of the world’s cobalt and is one of the world’s largest sources of copper and coltan. Last year, Kinshasa and Washington signed a minerals partnership aimed at deepening American involvement. Under that agreement, U.S.-based firm Virtus Minerals took over the copper-cobalt producer Chemaf, and other Western companies have begun circling assets in both stable and contested territory.

The United Arab Emirates, too, has become increasingly active in African trade and logistics, investing in ports, supply chains, and commodity routes stretching from the Horn of Africa to the Atlantic.

So this new guard is not merely about security.

It is about access.

About influence.

About ensuring that the minerals beneath Congolese soil move through channels preferred by allies and investors rather than rebels, smugglers, or rival powers.

Yet every new armed force in Congo carries a shadow.

In a nation where militias have multiplied faster than peace agreements, critics may ask whether another uniformed group will bring order—or simply another layer of control. Mining communities have long lived between promises of reform and the realities of displacement, dangerous labor, and exploitation. A convoy escorted safely to a border may mean security for investors; whether it means safety for miners remains a quieter question.

Outside Kinshasa, the mines remain open.

Men descend into narrow shafts.

Trucks move under dust.

Armed men, in one form or another, continue to watch the roads.

The world’s green transition still depends on the minerals buried there.

And in Congo, as so often before, the struggle over the future begins underground.

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Sources Reuters Associated Press Africanews Al Jazeera Bloomberg