I haven't read this book yet, it doesn't have a UK publisher yet, but I reproduce below a review by Isaac Chotiner from the New Yorker which is well worth reading:
'“It is now up to you, gentlemen, to show that we were right to trust you.” So King Baudouin, of Belgium, declared in the Congolese capital of Léopoldville (present-day Kinshasa) on June 30, 1960. It was a handover ceremony: the Belgian Congo would henceforth belong to the Congolese people. Decades later, Baudouin’s condescension remains startling. His great-great-uncle Leopold II had overseen what was then called the Congo Free State as his personal fiefdom—and established a system of exploitation that was monstrous even by colonial standards. But by 1960 the Belgian government could no longer ignore the wave of anti-imperialist movements that had swept much of the continent. Now the twenty-nine-year-old monarch told the crowd—made up of new Congolese citizens, Belgian officials, and dignitaries from around the world—that independence would be “achieved not through the immediate satisfaction of simple pleasures but through work.”
'Baudouin was followed in the speaking order by Joseph Kasavubu—independent Congo’s President, a relatively ceremonial role—though nobody really remembers what he said. It was Patrice Lumumba, Congo’s Prime Minister, who left an impression when he rose to speak next. A slim, enigmatic man, Lumumba was the most important politician in the country, and the one whom the Belgians were most concerned about. Lumumba’s remarks were clearly a direct reply to Baudouin’s. He ticked through the daily humiliations of life for Black Africans in the Belgian Congo, and recalled the violence visited upon his people. And then, his voice rising, he told his countrymen, “We who suffered in our bodies and hearts from colonialist oppression, we say to you out loud: from now on, all that is over.”
'Seven months later, Lumumba was murdered, brought down by a combination of Congolese politicians and Belgian “advisers,” with the tacit support of the United States and the malign neglect of the United Nations. The crisis that then engulfed Congo—impossibly complex, increasingly brutal—ended with the three-decade rule of Joseph-Désiré Mobutu, a onetime Lumumba ally who went on to govern as a ruthless Western client. Mobutu’s bloody final months, in the nineteen-nineties, were followed by an even more brutal war between Congo and its neighbors, which left millions dead. The death of Lumumba was a signal moment of both the Cold War and decolonization, two defining events of the post-1945 world. His story is the story of how they became inseparable.
'The Congo catastrophe may have seemed inevitable, but the geopolitics of the era were by no means straightforward. In the fall of 1956, an Anglo-French-Israeli military operation against Egypt and its President, Gamal Abdel Nasser, prompted by his decision to nationalize (sic) the Suez Canal, ended in humiliating failure after the Eisenhower Administration made clear that it would not support such a venture. The larger subtext was that the days of colonialism—at least European colonialism—were over. Eisenhower was angry about the Suez operation. The attack on Egypt would make the Western side in the Cold War look hypocritical, and help the Soviets gain ground in the Arab world. More pressing, it was a distraction from the concurrent Soviet invasion of Hungary. (Meanwhile, the United States was engaging in subversion in countries as far afield as Iran and Guatemala.)
'After the Suez debacle hastened the end of Prime Minister Anthony Eden’s government in Britain, his successor, Harold Macmillan, travelled to Cape Town, in February, 1960, and invoked “the wind of change” blowing across the continent, in effect accepting decolonization (sic). By then, France had suffered an embarrassing military defeat in Indochina, which was followed by the decisions to grant independence to Morocco and Tunisia. Charles de Gaulle had used the ongoing war in Algeria, whose conclusion he later helped negotiate, to leverage his way into power. Europe was grudgingly making strides toward discarding its empires, while still attempting to maintain some influence. Washington was eager to have a presence in these new markets.
'One of the virtues of Stuart A. Reid’s “The Lumumba Plot: The Secret History of the CIA and a Cold War Assassination” (Knopf) is that it shows how Congolese independence was never given a chance. Reid is interested not only in how external forces arrayed themselves to bring about a calamity but also in how the personalities of Lumumba, Mobutu, and the separatist leader Moïse Tshombe made finding a solution more difficult.
'Lumumba, Reid’s central figure, had left his home province of Kasai, where he was born in 1925, and settled in Stanleyville (now Kisangani) in the mid-nineteen-forties. Intent on becoming a part of the Belgian Congo’s Black middle class, Lumumba, a fanatical reader of French classics and political philosophy, immersed himself in Stanleyville��s civic life. By the early fifties, according to Reid, Lumumba had held leadership positions in seven different civic groups in the city. During much of this period, he sounded like someone of whom Baudouin would have approved. Lumumba viewed himself as an évolué. He urged the Belgians to provide wider access to education in Congo and to promote racial equality, but did so in the gentlest possible terms. In 1952, he wrote, “We promise docility, loyal and sincere collaboration to all those who want to help us achieve, in union with them, the element that is beyond us: civilization.”
'This reverential tone garnered him the attention of Belgian colonial officials, and even an audience with Baudouin, when the King visited Congo in 1955. But when Lumumba was found to have embezzled money at a postal-service job he held, he was sent to the Stanleyville Central Prison for fourteen months. Comments he made about the conditions there—including food that, he wrote, “a European would never serve to his dog”—suggest a sharpening political consciousness. (Even so, while in prison he wrote that political rights were not meant for “people who were unfit to use them,” such as “dull-witted illiterates.”) After his release, he moved to Léopoldville and began to speak out more aggressively against imperial rule, calling for Congo to “free itself from the chains of paternalism.”
'It wasn’t just the conditions in his country that changed his thinking; much of Africa was forging a route to independence. It was Congo’s time. Owing in part to his magnetic speaking skills, and to his following in Léopoldville—and even to the gusto with which he took up a new job as a beer salesman—he became the dominant figure in the political party that secured the most parliamentary seats in elections determining Congo’s first democratic government. Lumumba, still in his early thirties, had now travelled across the whole country, and he believed that an independent state should unite Congolese divided by ethnic and regional loyalties.
'Regional conflicts in Congo were particularly combustible because the Belgians were determined to shape the new state to their liking and, in particular, to keep control of the mineral-rich southern province of Katanga. (Congo currently has nearly half the world’s reserves of cobalt, which is essential for cell phones and a variety of batteries and alloys.) The province had held a special protected status since Leopold II ran Congo as a personal possession, from 1885 to 1908; before independence, it was effectively governed by mining interests, which maintained their own army. On the eve of independence, a single mining company provided half the colony’s tax revenue.
'Tshombe, the most important politician in Katanga, came from a wealthy family in the province, and was close to the Belgian settlers there. Long before Malcolm X referred to him as “the worst African ever born,” Tshombe became known for his foreign suits and foreign bank account, courtesy of his Belgian allies. He also projected some of the resentment that native Katangese felt toward other Congolese, which often stemmed from a dislike of the laborers who had come to work the mines. (Lumumba’s party scored zero victories in Katanga during the 1960 election.) But Tshombe’s biggest concern about the new state—one shared by his Belgian allies—was pecuniary: he feared that the new government in Léopoldville would take control of the mining profits.
'And so, where once the Belgians had favored centralization, they now favored federalism. Reid, an editor at Foreign Affairs, quotes a U.S. Embassy memorandum summarizing Belgian attitudes. Émile Janssens, the notorious Belgian leader of the Force Publique, the Congolese army, “would presumably take his orders from the President of the new Congolese republic,” it reads. “But if these orders were of a destructive nature, the Belgian government would hope that he would use his common sense and not follow them.”
'The third crucial figure of Reid’s book is Mobutu, who was a soldier before transitioning to journalism in the mid-nineteen-fifties; Lumumba befriended him after coming to know his byline. Cagey about his opinions, Mobutu—like many people in the Congolese political class—was almost surely passing intelligence to the Belgians before independence. Lumumba eventually began to distrust him, but by then he had already made him a top military aide, in part because of the support Mobutu had among soldiers.
'With the stage set, Reid turns to detailing how quickly the country collapsed. On July 5th, the African rank and file of the Force Publique were growing restless; for one thing, despite independence, no Congolese soldier had been promoted above the level of first sergeant major. Janssens, in response, gathered soldiers under his command, took out a piece of chalk, and wrote on a blackboard, “Before independence = after independence.” This assertion of authority backfired, and large-scale rioting and attacks on white officers followed. In a calculated response, Belgian troops, welcomed by Tshombe, landed in Katanga, ostensibly to protect their countrymen. In short order, Tshombe and his Belgian minders declared Katanga an independent state. Within a month of Congo’s independence, Belgian soldiers advanced on the capital; they controlled airfields across the country, and gave Lumumba orders about where he was allowed to travel. One night, in an incident that could have been straight out of Evelyn Waugh, a Belgian soldier shot at a correspondent for Time, and then apologized, saying, “In the dark I thought you were an African.”
'Lumumba requested U.N. assistance in the form of international troops to support the Congolese government and keep the peace, thus paving the way for the Belgians to leave. The U.N. was led by the Swedish diplomat Dag Hammarskjöld, and today, when few people can name the organization’s head, it is hard to comprehend how large a figure he was. The son of a Swedish Prime Minister, he was cool and cerebral and difficult to read, and he commanded international respect. Largely liberal in outlook, he was clearly upset by the Belgian intervention, and saw the importance of newly independent states developing into truly sovereign countries. “I must do this,” Hammarskjöld said upon hearing of Lumumba’s request. “God knows where it will lead this organization and where it will lead me.”
'But Hammarskjöld, who held many of the prejudices typical of his background and his era, took an immediate dislike to Lumumba. Conor Cruise O’Brien, the Irish diplomat and writer who led later U.N. operations in Congo—Hammarskjöld picked him for the job after reading a book of his essays on Catholic writers—once wrote that Hammarskjöld shared the “sometimes unconscious European assumptions that order in Africa is primarily a matter of safeguarding European lives and property.”
'The U.N. ended up limiting Lumumba’s options. Its forces dithered about entering Katanga, causing Tshombe’s breakaway regime to further establish itself with Belgian help. Hammarskjöld wrote that it was critical to insure that U.N. troops would not be used by Lumumba to subdue Katanga, Reid explains. When Hammarskjöld visited Congo, he passed through the capital without meeting Lumumba, and went directly to see Tshombe. Lumumba was stunned and enraged. We’re accustomed to stories about an ineffectual U.N., of course, but Reid attributes its conduct to the preferences of major Western powers—they didn’t want an aggressive U.N. deployment that would appear directed against Belgium—and of Hammarskjöld himself.
'Even before independence, Eisenhower regarded Congo’s prospects as dim, and a trip that Lumumba made to America, in July, 1960, had been a disaster: he was not afforded a high-level reception, and failed to garner the military assistance he sought. Lumumba could mobilize crowds with his radio speeches, but, Reid notes, his efforts at face-to-face diplomacy tended to alienate the people he was negotiating with. In the meantime, the American Ambassador to Congo was known to make jokes about Lumumba being a cannibal, while the C.I.A. on the ground was raising concerns about “Commie influence.” As Reid and many others have established, Lumumba was not a Communist; Hammarskjöld, for his part, considered Lumumba an “ignorant pawn” but too “erratic and inept” for the Soviets to find useful.
'Around this time, Lumumba gave the go-ahead to Mobutu’s plan to put down a second secession, in South Kasai, another mineral-heavy province. Congolese troops went on a rampage and murdered many South Kasai civilians, further entrenching the idea that the central government could not be trusted. Feeling abandoned by both the United States and the U.N., Lumumba appealed to the Soviets for military aid. They eventually agreed, but what they offered was meagre.
By August of 1960, the White House, galvanized by Lumumba’s turn to the Soviets, had authorized a secret C.I.A. scheme to “replace the Lumumba Government by constitutional means,” whatever that meant. The same month, at a Cabinet meeting, Eisenhower made comments that some interpreted as a call for assassination. (Lumumba, Reid notes, “offended his sense of decorum.”) C.I.A.-sponsored protests started disrupting Lumumba’s speeches, and then the agency began scheming to kill him.
'As the situation worsened, leaders within Congo and in the West found Lumumba recalcitrant and increasingly erratic, and formed a plan, backed by President Kasavubu, to remove him. Reid presents cables from Hammarskjöld indicating that the U.N. had no objections to Lumumba’s ouster; its officials on the ground prevented Lumumba from going on the radio.
'The next several months played out as a tragedy. Lumumba’s wife was denied access to medical care and gave birth prematurely to a daughter, who died. Lumumba was arrested twice by Mobutu, who sided with Kasavubu before asserting himself—with C.I.A. backing—as the country’s preëminent power broker. Lumumba escaped, but was caught, with U.N. soldiers looking on while he was beaten. As O’Brien later wrote, “The United Nations displayed a concern for legal punctilio when it was a question of rescuing Lumumba which was quite absent from their very uninhibited phase of activity when it was a question of bringing about Lumumba’s political destruction.”
'The final days were gruesome: on January 17, 1961, Mobutu flew a captive Lumumba to Katanga, where Tshombe and his associates—with Belgian officials and mercenaries in attendance—beat him for hours. Tshombe was covered in Lumumba’s blood by the time they were done. Lumumba was then driven to a remote area and murdered, along with two members of his political party. Reid describes this in vivid detail. “You’re going to kill us?” Lumumba asked; Frans Verscheure, a local police commissioner, simply answered, “Yes.” After the men were dead, the killers poured sulfuric acid on the bodies. One of the Belgians present, Gerard Soete, brought home Lumumba’s molars and a finger as trophies.
'The fighting among different factions over the next four years became increasingly vicious, but for a brief moment it appeared that the U.N. could force a solution. Reid coolly notes, “For all the recriminations against the UN and the West, in a strange way Lumumba’s death made international agreement on the Congo easier.” After his murder, the U.N.—in operations led by O’Brien—did try to end the Katanga secession. The attempts initially failed, and Hammarskjöld, under pressure, flew to meet with Tshombe in Northern Rhodesia (now Zambia), but his plane went down, killing everyone on board, in circumstances that remain murky. (Reid seems skeptical of the conspiracy theories.)
'Reid’s narrative doesn’t extend much beyond the assassination; its particular focus is the role of the United States, and especially the Eisenhower Administration, in this period of chaos. (Reid may underplay the degree to which an independent Katanga was always a Belgian project, even as the U.S. and Great Britain coveted the region’s minerals.) The eventual assassination plot was different from the one the Americans had planned, but Washington’s desires were clear to people on the ground. When Larry Devlin, who was running C.I.A. operations in Congo, heard that Lumumba was being flown to Katanga, he chose not to alert his superiors, or to intercede with Mobutu, with whom he had
developed a close relationship. Still, even if Devlin could have persuaded Mobutu to spare Lumumba’s life, the situation had reached a breaking point. This was the result of months of Western policy choices characterized by shortsightedness, carelessness, and, as Reid makes plain, a fear of the Soviet Union, which, in reality, had little interest in Congo beyond the public-relations wound the West had inflicted upon itself.
'Tshombe fled Congo in 1963, after the secession was finally ended by the U.N. He was enticed back to become Prime Minister, in part because Mobutu and Kasavubu knew that he had Belgian support, and, indeed, soon afterward, Belgian and American intervention helped put down another quixotic rebellion, which had, famously, been joined by Che Guevara. Tshombe went into exile again after Mobutu seized power in 1965; he died in 1969 in Algerian custody, despite the attempts of various American anti-Communists, including William F. Buckley, Jr., to get him released. (Buckley lauded Tshombe, upon his death, for understanding that progress would come for Congo only with “the aid of white expertise and capital.”)...'
I can reproduce no more - it's almost all the entire review, the rest can be found in the New Yorker of October 30, 2023.