Revolutionary fervour was at an all-time low during celebrations to mark the third anniversary of the Congolese Rally for Democracy (RCD) rebellion in Bukavu, eastern Congo's largest town, earlier this month.
A colourful parade down the central avenue drew a sizeable crowd but cheers were sparse and muted. There was a disinterested, even sullen atmosphere.
One man offered a whispered explanation. "Nobody really wants to be here," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "But the authorities make trouble for businesses if they don't. You can even go to jail." The RCD is arguably the world's most unpopular rebellion; the two-hour procession was an almost perfect parody of its failings.
At the top of the parade were soldiers from the RCD and its main ally, the Rwandan army. Both armies, frequently accused of rape, extortion and looting of Congo's natural resources, are widely despised.
They were followed by an array of sombre workers representing the pitiful state of Congo's war-time economy. Money lenders waved thick bundles of the increasingly worthless currency. Traders in Coltan - the precious mineral that has funded, if not fuelled, the war - wore smart blue shirts. And staff from the "Industrial Promotion Authority" looked lonely. Only the most foolhardy investor would put his money in rebel-held Congo these days.
The bulk of the charade-parade, however, was made up of several thousand civil servants. Many looked smart and well-dressed in matching shirts bearing incongruous "Versace" or "Vive le RCD" slogans. But some have not been paid for years; practically all avoided eye-contact with the governor as they passed the dais.
From the time of the Belgian monarch Leopold to the Cold War kleptocrat Joseph Desire Mobutu, the people of the Congo have felt manipulated and abused by foreign powers. It is no different now.
At least five other countries are involved in the war. Most of them are profiting by exporting Congo's fabulous natural wealth; in return some have imported their own corrosive ethnic tensions - particularly between Hutu and Tutsi - into Congo.
"The RCD says it wants to liberate us - but from what?" asked a teacher, Mr Michael Kitoko, recently, reflecting a widely held view in the east, where an estimated 2.5 million people have died as a result of the war.
Nevertheless it is increasingly clear that Congo will only return to peace when its enemies' internal problems are resolved - and in particular the unfinished business of the 1994 Rwandan genocide. And if that doesn't happen, the feared partition of the giant African nation is looking increasingly likely.
Congo's biggest stumbling block to peace is to be found in the dense tropical forest just a few miles outside Bukavu. The Interahamwe have been roaming the forests and bushlands of eastern Congo since they fled there seven years ago after participating in the slaughter of 800,000 fellow Rwandans, mainly Tutsis and moderate Hutus. Their presence in Congo is, ostensibly at least, the reason for the war.
Rwanda sparked the RCD rebellion in 1998 based on fears that the Interahamwe would use Congo as a base for a second genocide. It has been a singularly unsuccessful manhunt.
Three years on, the Hutu militia present in Congo number up to 40,000 according to Rwandan government figures, although independent analysts put their number at 15,000. To make matters worse, they have been joined in their fight against the RCD by the Mayi-Mayi, a Congolese militia, and the FDD, fellow Hutu rebels from war-torn Burundi.
And along the way, Rwanda's motivation for prosecuting the war has been sullied by its ruthless exploitation of Congolese natural wealth. Diamonds, gold and coltan - the mineral used in the manufacture of mobile phones and Sony Playstations - have all been shipped from Congo to the Rwandan capital Kigali in large quantities. A highly critical UN report last April warned that President Paul Kagame of Rwanda was "on the verge of becoming a godfather" of the plunder of the Congo.
Rwanda has also introduced its own ethnic tensions to Congo. Ethnic Tutsis in Congo, or Banyamulenge, have been increasingly associated with the "invaders" - partly because they hold positions of power in the RCD - and some have worried about a possible Congolese genocide.
Now, however, a peace plan for Congo is being implemented. The government and rebels have stopped shooting, troops are withdrawing from the front-lines, and UN officials are deploying to remote areas to monitor the cease-fire.
But this deal - known as the Lusaka accords - does not sufficiently address the core problem of the armed militia, and in particular the Interahamwe.
The response of the international community to the problem of these armed groups has been "disastrously negligent" according to the Africa think-tank, International Crisis Group.
Nevertheless, the dangerous task of disarming the gunmen is seen as the key to solving the Congo conundrum.
"The Interahamwe are the crux of the matter. Once you remove that question then Rwanda has no reason to stay here," said Mr Michael Despines, Congo director for the International Rescue Committee, in Bukavu.
Many Congolese feel the UN should get involved. "The United Nations brought the Interahamwe here," said the president of the Bukavu civil society, Prof Gervais Chirhalwirwa, referring to the western aid operation that allowed the Interahamwe to regroup in Congo after the genocide. "And they are the ones that should bring them back."
That looks unlikely for now. The troops currently stationed in Congo have a strict mandate to only protect the UN peace monitors; their political masters will want to avoid getting embroiled in such a tangled and potentially bloody situation.