Patrice Lumumba: How to Kill a Man, Dissolve His Body, and Still Fail to Erase His Ideas
AFRICA, 2 Feb 2026
Raïs Neza Boneza – TRANSCEND Media Service
28 Jan 2026 – History, when written by empires, has a strange habit of calling murder “stability,” theft “civilization,” and silence “reconciliation.” Patrice Lumumba knew this. He said it out loud. That is why he had to die.
Lumumba was not assassinated because he hated Belgium. He was assassinated because he loved Congo too much—and loved it publicly, eloquently, and without apology. In the political etiquette of empire, that is an unforgivable crime.
Let us rewind.
In 1960, as Africa lined up for what was marketed as independence—with confetti on the surface and strings attached underneath—Patrice Lumumba emerged as an inconvenience. Not a radical with a gun, not a warlord, not a dictator in waiting. Worse. A man with ideas. Clear ones. Dangerous ones.
He insisted that independence meant more than flags and anthems. That political freedom without economic sovereignty was just colonialism changing clothes. That Congo’s copper, uranium, cobalt, and diamonds should benefit Congolese people—not Belgian shareholders, American strategists, or Cold War accountants drawing lines on maps they would never live on.
This was unsettling. Especially to those who had grown comfortable treating the Congo as a warehouse with legs.
The Speech That Signed His Death Warrant
On 30 June 1960, King Baudouin of Belgium delivered a paternal speech praising the “civilizing mission” of Leopold II—the same Leopold whose reign left millions of dead and hands severed as performance metrics. The room applauded politely. History was being laundered in real time.
Lumumba was not scheduled to speak. He spoke anyway.
Improvising on the spot, he delivered what remains one of the most honest independence speeches ever recorded. He named the beatings, the humiliations, the forced labor, the blood. He reminded the world that independence was not a gift—it was taken through struggle, suffering, and sacrifice.
Diplomacy froze. Smiles tightened. Somewhere in the room, pens stopped taking notes and started drawing targets.
Historians agree: that day, Lumumba did not just embarrass a king. He threatened a system.
Too Independent for the Independence Industry
Lumumba’s real sin was not ideology—it was non-alignment. In a world split neatly between Washington and Moscow, he refused to audition as anyone’s puppet. When the UN failed to stop the Belgian-backed secession of resource-rich Katanga, Lumumba turned to the Soviet Union—not out of loyalty, but out of necessity.
That was enough.
In Cold War logic, asking for help outside the approved menu was equivalent to treason. Independence was allowed. Neutrality was not.
So, the machinery moved swiftly. Political rivals were encouraged. Secessionists funded. Mobutu was promoted. Order was restored—the kind of order that requires prisons, coups, and silence.
Lumumba was arrested, humiliated, beaten, transferred to the secessionist Katanga province—handed directly to his foe, Moise Tshombe . Belgian officers were present. Western intelligence services were aware and coordinating. No one was confused about what was happening.
On 17 January 1961, Patrice Lumumba was executed. To make sure history itself didn’t testify, his body was dissolved in acid. One Belgian officer kept a tooth as a souvenir. Because empire, even in murder, likes trophies.
Fast Forward to The Present
Today, Congo remains “strategically important.” That is the polite term. Its cobalt powers electric cars marketed as green. Its uranium once powered the atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima. Its minerals fuel smartphones, AI servers, and the digital dreams of the Global North.
Different century. Same arrangement.
Western leaders now speak of “supply chains,” “stability,” and “good governance.” The language has evolved. The logic has not. Leaders who talk too much about sovereignty still face sanctions, coups, character assassination—or worse. Ask Venezuela, Iraq, Haiti, Syria. Ask Libya. Ask Palestine. Ask any country that tried to say “no” in a world that only tolerates “yes.”
Lumumba’s story is not just Congolese history. It is a manual—still in use—on how to discipline postcolonial ambition.
The Irony That Refuses to Die
Belgium officially acknowledged its “moral responsibility” for Lumumba’s assassination in 2021. Sixty years later. One his tooth was returned to his family in 2022. A Relic, a gesture. A Symbolic. Carefully harmless.
Meanwhile, the structures Lumumba fought are alive, efficient, and well-funded.
Congo must remember this too.
A country is not destroyed only by those who invade it, but also by those who internalize humiliation and learn to perform it on their own people.
Each year on 17th January, we must recall one of the darkest days in modern history, Congolese hands forced Patrice Lumumba to swallow literally—a crumpled copy of his own speech. The speech on Black dignity. On African dignity. On the dignity of free labor. A man made to eat his words before being erased. This was not ordered from Brussels or Washington. This was local. Intimate. Degrading by design.
That moment exposes a deeper tragedy: the success of colonial mindset training . When oppression is no longer outsourced but domesticated. When the uniform changes color, but the violence remains fluent.
The policemen who humiliated Lumumba. The soldiers who stripped him of his dignity before stripping him of his life. The officials who complied, collaborated, looked away, or actively participated. They were not anomalies. They were prototypes.
And six decades later, the script feels uncomfortably familiar. Arrest still comes with humiliation. Authority still feeds on degradation. The state still delivers its own children to the void with bureaucratic efficiency. As if this were the original blueprint. As if this were what the founders of the system intended—and we have simply learned to live inside it. Comfortably. Tragically. This is the most brutal irony of Lumumba’s death:
The empire pulled the trigger, dissolve his remain in the oil of vitriol, yes—but local hands held the man down.
And yet—here is the part empire hates most—they failed again.
They killed the man. They erased the body. But the idea survived. Lumumba still speaks every time Africans question why resource-rich countries remain poor. Every time someone asks why independence feels unfinished. Every time a leader insists that dignity is not negotiable and sovereignty is not a branding exercise.
They tried to make an example of him. Instead, he became a warning—to empire. Because Patrice Lumumba proved something dangerous: You can dissolve a body in acid. You cannot dissolve truth.
____________________________________________
Raïs Neza Boneza is the author of fiction as well as non-fiction, poetry books and articles. He was born in the Katanga province of the Democratic Republic of Congo (Former Zaïre). He is also an activist and peace practitioner. Raïs is a member of the TRANSCEND Media Service Editorial Committee and a convener of the TRANSCEND Network for Peace Development Environment for Central and African Great Lakes. He uses his work to promote artistic expressions as a means to deal with conflicts and maintaining mental wellbeing, spiritual growth and healing. Raïs has travelled extensively in Africa and around the world as a lecturer, educator and consultant for various NGOs and institutions. His work is premised on art, healing, solidarity, peace, conflict transformation and human dignity issues and works also as freelance journalist. You can reach him at rais.boneza@gmail.com – http://www.raisnezaboneza.no
Tags: Africa, D.R. Congo, Patrice Lumumba, Zaire
DISCLAIMER: The statements, views and opinions expressed in pieces republished here are solely those of the authors and do not necessarily represent those of TMS. In accordance with title 17 U.S.C. section 107, this material is distributed without profit to those who have expressed a prior interest in receiving the included information for research and educational purposes. TMS has no affiliation whatsoever with the originator of this article nor is TMS endorsed or sponsored by the originator. “GO TO ORIGINAL” links are provided as a convenience to our readers and allow for verification of authenticity. However, as originating pages are often updated by their originating host sites, the versions posted may not match the versions our readers view when clicking the “GO TO ORIGINAL” links. This site contains copyrighted material the use of which has not always been specifically authorized by the copyright owner. We are making such material available in our efforts to advance understanding of environmental, political, human rights, economic, democracy, scientific, and social justice issues, etc. We believe this constitutes a ‘fair use’ of any such copyrighted material as provided for in section 107 of the US Copyright Law. In accordance with Title 17 U.S.C. Section 107, the material on this site is distributed without profit to those who have expressed a prior interest in receiving the included information for research and educational purposes. For more information go to: http://www.law.cornell.edu/uscode/17/107.shtml. If you wish to use copyrighted material from this site for purposes of your own that go beyond ‘fair use’, you must obtain permission from the copyright owner.
Join the discussion!
We welcome debate and dissent, but personal — ad hominem — attacks (on authors, other users or any individual), abuse and defamatory language will not be tolerated. Nor will we tolerate attempts to deliberately disrupt discussions. We aim to maintain an inviting space to focus on intelligent interactions and debates.