Soundtrack to a Coup d’État is a documentary that explores the intricacies of the CIA and American propaganda in the assassination of Patrice Lumumba.
The film, directed by Johan Grimonprez, delves into the dark web of Cold War politics, racial tensions, and covert operations that led to the violent overthrow of one of Africa’s most celebrated liberation figures.
In an era where information is often manipulated, Soundtrack to a Coup d’État offers a powerful and multi-layered examination of how power works in the shadows. It delves into how music, culture, and diplomacy were used as tools of geopolitical maneuvering.
The documentary does more than recount Lumumba’s assassination in 1961; it constructs a complex narrative that explores the broader political forces at play in the Congo and their enduring impact on the country’s present-day struggles.
The assassination of Lumumba, Congo’s first prime minister, was not an isolated political act; it was the culmination of a long-standing history of colonial exploitation and Cold War geopolitics.
After gaining independence from Belgium in 1960, Congo, rich in natural resources like copper, cobalt, uranium, and diamonds, quickly became a target of foreign interests. Western powers, particularly the U.S. and Belgium, saw Lumumba’s vision of an independent, self-determined Congo as a threat to their economic and political dominance.
At the height of the Cold War, Congo’s new government was seen as a potential ally of the Soviet Union, which made Lumumba an immediate target for American intervention.
While the political dimensions of Lumumba’s rise and fall are well-documented, Soundtrack to a Coup d’État reveals the deeper forces that contributed to his murder. The film connects the covert actions of the CIA to the broader web of U.S. and Belgian interests, showing how Lumumba’s assassination was not just about removing a leader; it was about controlling a nation’s resources.
By framing the events of 1960 within the context of the global power struggle between the U.S. and the Soviet Union, the documentary uncovers the calculated manipulation of Congo’s fate by external forces, which saw the country’s sovereignty as expendable.
But the film doesn’t stop there — it goes further by exploring the paradoxical role of culture in these covert operations. As part of a broader campaign to project American influence abroad, the U.S. government enlisted jazz musicians like Louis Armstrong, Nina Simone, and Max Roach as “ambassadors of goodwill.”
These artists, who travelled the world in the 1960s, unknowingly became part of the same propaganda machine that sought to undermine Lumumba’s government. While they were lauded as symbols of American freedom, their revolutionary music was used as tools to promote the very political system that opposed Lumumba’s vision of African self-determination.
The documentary’s power lies not just in its exploration of historical events but in its ability to draw a direct line from Lumumba’s death to the ongoing exploitation of Congo today. The 1960s coup was not a singular event; it was a turning point that created the conditions for the political instability and violence that continues to plague the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC).
After Lumumba’s death, the country was plunged into a cycle of authoritarian rule, foreign-backed regimes and civil war — all of which were fuelled by the competition for Congo’s resources. The subsequent rise of Mobutu Sese Seko’s kleptocracy, backed by the West, marked the beginning of decades of corruption, exploitation and internal strife that has never fully subsided.
Today, the eastern regions of Congo remain among the most violent and unstable parts of the world as rebel groups, armed militias, and multinational corporations vie for control over the country’s wealth.
The DRC’s mineral resources, especially in the context of global demand, such as cobalt, are used in everything from smartphones to electric vehicles (featured in the documentary). This continues to make the country a battleground for foreign powers and local factions alike.
Congo’s struggle for stability, independence and self-determination is thus inextricably linked to its colonial past and the geopolitical machinations that shaped its year as an independent state.
Soundtrack to a Coup d’État ultimately argues that the Congo’s war is not just a relic of the past — it’s an ongoing tragedy. It began with the tyranny of King Leopold’s colonial regime, followed by the assassination of Patrice Lumumba and continues today.
In this sense, Congo’s story is not historical; it’s a modern crisis, a struggle for sovereignty and justice that has been denied for over six decades.
By linking the past to the present, Soundtrack to a Coup d’État forces us to confront our uncomfortable role in the destruction of the Congo.
The exploitation of its people and resources by foreign powers, the manipulation of its politics, and the continued violence over its wealth are not historical anomalies — they are the product of decisions made long ago, and their legacy is still alive and well, being funded by powerful figures. Much like its fight for independence, Congo’s war is far from over.