Heads of State and Government

On January 19, French President Emmanuel Macron said that recent successes against jihadis and the pledge of additional EU troops makes it possible to "adjust" French military operations in the western Sahel. More likely is that growing opposition to the costs of French military operations and the upcoming French elections are driving Macron to the decision. The French military presence—Operation Barkhane—numbers 5,100 and cost a reported $1.1 billion in 2020. The French Ministry of Defense has signaled that France is likely to announce the withdrawal of 600 troops in February. Meanwhile, demonstrations have popped up in some West African capitals, with organizers denouncing the French presence as neocolonial. Macron's stated justification for a drawdown strains credibility. Jihadi groups in Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger are far from defeated. On January 21, jihadi forces killed three Malian soldiers and three days later they killed an additional six. Concerns are rising that jihadi activity will spread further into Senegal and Ivory Coast. According to the UN High Commissioner for Refugees, West and Central Africa already hosts some 7.2 million [PDF] “people of concern”—including refugees, asylum seekers, internally displaced persons, returnees, and stateless persons— with many coming from or located in the Sahel. EU nations are augmenting Task Force Takuba in an attempt to bolster regional security, but the partnership is still getting off the ground. France is looking toward the presidential elections in 2022. Recent polling data shows that for the first time, a majority of French now oppose French military activity in West Africa. The negative, popular reaction to the deaths of thirteen French soldiers in Mali in 2019 illustrates the limited tolerance among the French public for military casualties. Macron is a shrewd politician, belying his technocratic image. His party fared poorly in 2020 municipal elections. Hence a French drawdown in West Africa makes domestic political sense. But, if the French drawdown is substantial, it seems likely that there will be an upsurge of Islamist activity; the armed forces of the weak Francophone West African states have become dependent on the French to hold the line. If the French leave, calls for greater American involvement will likely grow, especially if jihadis sweep toward beleaguered capitals and move to establish Islamist polities hostile to the West. Should such calls occur (as they did following French defeat in Vietnam a generation ago), the Biden administration would do well to proceed with great caution, given the complexity of the situation and the relative lack of granular knowledge about the Sahel in the United States.

Roman Catholic Bishop of Sokoto Matthew Kukah, in a Christmas message titled "A Nation In Search Of Vindication," delivered a blistering critique of Nigeria's governance and political economy. The message was not a sermon, nor was it, apparently, delivered in a church setting. Rather it appears to be a message addressed to a wider audience than his fellow Catholics. In it he accused President Muhammadu Buhari of nepotism and making too many high-level appointments among his fellow northern Muslims. He said, “Every honest Nigerian knows that there is no way any non-Northern Muslim President could have done a fraction of what President Buhari has done by his nepotism and gotten away with it. There would have been a military coup a long time ago or we would have been at war.” Some Islamic organizations have reacted strongly against the bishop, with calls for him to apologize or to leave northern Nigeria, where his diocese is located. That was the response of the Muslim Solidarity Forum, based in Sokoto, which also referred to northern Christians as “guests” in Sokoto. The Arewa Youth Consultative Forum (AYCF) called the bishop's message a “treasonable felony against the Nigerian state.” A variety of Christian groups, including the Pentecostal Fellowship of Nigeria (PFN) and the Catholic Bishops’ Conference of Nigeria defended him equally vociferously. PFN said the bishop “spoke truth to power.” President Buhari's initial response should have lowered the temperature. Through the president’s spokesman Garba Shehu, the presidency stated that the bishop should be allowed to practice his faith and his politics as provided for by the constitution. Subsequently, however, Minister of Information and Culture Alhaji Lai Mohammed said that “calling for a violent overthrow of a democratically-elected government, no matter how disguised such a call is, and casting a particular religion as violent is not what any religious leader should engage in, and certainly not in a season of peace.” However, a careful reading of the bishop’s statement shows he was not calling for the violent overthrow of the government. The knee-jerk reaction to the bishop is perhaps more significant than the message itself, concise analysis of Nigeria's ills though it was. Commentators and organizations cast the bishop's remarks as an attack on Islam, with Muslims against it and Christians for it. In fact, the statement was not cast in Christian/Muslim terms. In strong language, the bishop's message cited Nigeria's ills that have been identified by numerous Christian and Muslim leaders, including the Sultan of Sokoto, to whom the bishop made explicit reference. In effect, peppered with quotations about justice, especially from the Old Testament, he denounced the self-serving elites that dominate Nigeria. Moreover, he argues that only the Nigerian people themselves can bring about fundamental political reform. The uproar owes something to Nigeria's current security crisis, with the Islamist terrorist group Boko Haram far from defeated, increasing activism of Islamist radical groups in the northwest, ongoing quarrels over land and water in the Middle Belt, and a low-level insurrection in the oil patch. President Buhari's government is widely criticized for apparent inactivity, though it moved with dispatch to try to counter COVID-19. Bishop Kukah, born in 1952, was educated at the Kennedy School at Harvard and the School of Oriental and African Studies at the University of London, among other places. A highly charismatic figure, he identifies strongly with Nigeria in a country in which national identity is weak [PDF]. He has long been involved with peace and reconciliation movements, and has cooperated closely with the Sultan of Sokoto, by protocol the highest-ranking Muslim traditional ruler in Nigeria.

Nolan Quinn contributed to this post. Twitter and other social media platforms have suspended or restricted President Donald J. Trump's access, mostly because of his and his followers’ use of them to incite violence, though their stated, precise reasons vary from one to another. They are all private companies, and thus are subject to few restrictions [PDF] on what content they choose to moderate or remove. Mainstream American opinion is outraged over the assault on the U.S. Capitol in Washington, D.C. on January 6 and many Americans are incensed by related efforts to suborn the Constitution in blocking the certification of President-Elect Joseph Biden’s electoral victory. Barring the president from social media platforms has not been seen as an infringement on his constitutional right to free speech. The legal argument runs that companies are free to enforce their own standards and policies regarding the content they host. Further, President Trump remains free to make his views known by the myriad other means of mass communication that exist in the United States such as the press, television, radio, and other social media sites. Polling data shows [PDF] that a majority of Americans do indeed favor increased regulation of social media. But reactions to the moves by Twitter, Facebook, Snapchat, and others to limit Trump’s social media access have followed a familiar partisan split. An ongoing debate about how much governments should regulate social media and what the boundaries are (or should be) between free speech and incitement to hatred and violence has been made more pressing by the events of January 6. This same debate is underway in sub-Saharan Africa, where social media is of growing importance and other types of media are weak or even absent. In some states trending toward authoritarianism or worse—Uganda, Tanzania, and Ethiopia, for example—regimes seek to limit social media to enhance their power by muzzling the opposition. But in others, especially those riven by ethnic and religious conflict, there is legitimate concern that media, now including social media, are a means to incite violence.  Nigeria is a case in point. The country is besieged by an Islamist revolt in the northeast, conflict over land and water in the middle of the country that often acquires an ethnic and religious coloration, and a low-level insurrection in the oil patch. The government is weak and commands little popular support. Under these circumstances, Nigeria is ripe for social media incitement to violence. Weak African governments are often heavy-handed and resort to draconian punishments which are difficult to carry out in practice; their responses to incendiary social media posts have been no different. In Nigeria, the government has introduced legislation to regulate social media that includes the death penalty for certain types of violations. Human rights organizations, many of which are suspicious the administration of Muhammadu Buhari is moving towards authoritarianism, see the legislation as infringing on free speech and stifling the ability to criticize the government. In Nigeria, as elsewhere in Africa, while social media is strong, more conventional media is less so. Hence restrictions on access to social media would, indeed, impede the flow of news and information to a greater extent than in the United States. Though it remains to be seen, major social media platforms’ barring of Donald Trump is likely to be cited in the Nigerian debate by those that favor the proposed legislation. In commentary by outside friends of Nigeria, it will be important not to impose on Nigeria the circumstances of the United States, which are not necessarily parallel.

Ten people who passed away this year who shaped world affairs for better or worse.

As 2020 comes to a close, here are ten influential U.S. foreign policy figures who passed away this year. 

Amadou Touré, coup maker, coup victim, military ruler, and eventually civilian chief of state in Mali, died last week in Istanbul at the age of seventy-two. Touré dominated Mali's governance for some twenty years and, in death, is being praised as a "soldier of democracy." Following his successful 1991 coup against Moussa Traoré, military ruler for thirteen years, Touré orchestrated a transition to elections and civilian government. In 2002 he was elected president and, in 2007, reelected. In 2012, he was overthrown by a military coup. Since then, the country has been in turmoil, with Tuareg and jihadi insurrections seeming to gain strength. It was during Touré's civilian presidency that Mali was the darling of many Western commentators. After all, the country had a civilian government and regular elections. Mali's outstanding achievements in music and the arts lent a glow. Overlooked was flourishing corruption, narcotics trafficking, and the continued alienation of the northern part of the country. Too many observers mistook the forms of democracy and good governance for its substance. Outside observers viewed Mali as a conventional nation-state, just as they often do with other postcolonial countries. Hence their exaggerated emphasis on elections and, later, their failure to see the role played by corruption (including narcotics trafficking) in the body politic—as well as the limits to what Touré could do about it, even if he wanted to. Accordingly, the current criticism of Touré reflects the assumption that he should have been like the leader of a nation-state rather than what he was, the head of a highly unstable coalition of forces and interests artificially amalgamated by the colonial power into a single entity.

Though still not certain, Joseph Biden and Kamala Harris will likely be elected president and vice president of the United States. A Biden administration's approach to Africa will depend on policy but also on who the president appoints to his cabinet and senior positions. Important will be the secretary of state, the assistant secretary of state for Africa, and the administrator of U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID). In some administrations, the National Security Council (NSC) has played a central role, though not under President Trump. The NSC will likely revert to the prominent role it played under President Obama. If it does, the NSC director for Africa will be important. As for policy, the campaign published "The Biden-Harris Agenda for the Diaspora." It provides a broad outline of the likely African preoccupations of a Biden administration. The document is specifically addressed to those Africans and of African descent living in the United States. As such, it begins with an affirmation of diaspora values: family, opportunity, and a desire to contribute to American growth and prosperity. The document includes familiar policy prescriptions with respect to the economy, health, and education. But it also includes specifics on issues of particular concern to Africans in the United States: immigration and U.S. policy toward Africa. On immigration, the document promises a rollback of Trump's initiatives and a renewed commitment to family unification and diversity. It also promises the reestablishment of the United States as a place of refuge and advocates a roadmap to citizenship for the undocumented. With the exception of the citizenship roadmap, these goals can be achieved by the president through his executive authority, and a President Biden is likely to do so. They could not be blocked by a hostile Republican majority in the Senate, if one were to emerge.  As for U.S. relations with Africa, the campaign document promises a change in tone, the restoration of "mutually respectful engagement,” and the revival and reinvigoration of diplomacy. The implication is no more disparaging presidential tweets. It reaffirms American support for African democracy and economic growth. It specifically endorses a continuation of President Obama's Young African Leaders Initiative and looks for diversity in the U.S. diplomatic service. These goals, too, can be largely achieved through presidential executive authority. This is a short, concise campaign document addressed to a specific group of actual or potential voters. Nevertheless, the campaign was careful not to over-promise. There is no reference to an increase in U.S. federal spending on African aid and development. Nor are there commitments to deeper U.S. involvement in Africa's security challenges. Still, the broad goals outlined in this admittedly campaign document—combined with high-quality personnel appointments—have the potential to transform for the better the tone of Washington's relations with Africa.

Western media is reporting that violence in Lagos—initially connected to protests against the Special Anti-Robbery Squad (SARS), a police unit—is intensifying. Lagos is under a twenty-four-hour curfew, and, for the first time, a state in the oil patch, Delta, has also imposed a curfew. Media also reports that in Lagos the violence has spread to Victoria Island and Ikoyi, upmarket neighborhoods. President Muhammadu Buhari addressed the nation on October 22, calling for protesters to consider “the various well-thought-out initiatives” his administration has put forth as an alternative to protests “being used by some subversive elements to cause chaos.” He, however, made no mention of those killed thus far—Amnesty International has documented at least twelve deaths in Lagos and fifty-six nationwide, but there really is no definitive number. On social media, fears are being expressed that the Buhari administration could move to severe repression. Many Lagosians, in particular, recall Buhari's brutality when he was military chief of state in the 1980s. Learn more about John Campbell's upcoming book, Nigeria and the Nation-State: Rethinking Diplomacy with the Postcolonial World, out in early December 2020.

The United States must finally translate its longstanding rhetoric about pandemic preparedness into concrete action.

French President Emmanuel Macron, in a September 22 UN General Assembly (UNGA) speech, made continued French military involvement contingent upon Mali's restoration of civilian rule. He was blunt: "They (the junta) must put Mali on the irreversible path of returning to civilian power and organize rapid elections." And, "France [...] can only remain engaged on this condition." As he has in the past, Macron was also clear that France has a low tolerance level for popular demonstrations against France, or francophone West African states that might be tempted by anti-French rhetoric: "The second these states want us to leave or consider that they can fight terrorism on their own, we will withdraw." The same day Macron was speaking at UNGA, there was a small anti-French demonstration in Bamako. The Mali junta appears impervious to pressures from the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) and the African Union (AU) to restore civilian government. Pressure from France might be different. France deploys more than 5,000 well-trained, well-equipped troops against jihadist extremist groups that seek to overthrow the government and destroy the political class in Mali and in its neighboring states. The French are assisted by some EU partners, and the United States provides logistical and intelligence support. Were France to withdraw, so, too, would its EU partners, and the continued U.S. presence, small though it is, would be called into question.  The jihadist operations in the Sahel have intensified and spread. French withdrawal might well lead to their destruction of Mali and some of its neighboring states. If the Mali junta remains intransigent, would the French really withdraw? West Africa is the French equivalent of the Russian "near abroad." For many French, close ties with francophone Africa makes their country more than simply a large state in the European Union. On the other hand, there is opposition in France to unending military engagement in the Sahel: some characterize the Sahel as France's Afghanistan.  A possible, even likely, outcome will be that the junta will adopt more civilian trappings, such as a genuinely civilian head of state that is acceptable to the Macron government, even if it must hold its noose. 

Opposition supporters, fed up with a corrupt political system, lack of economic opportunity, and continued violence, are demanding the president’s resignation.

Iraq’s new prime minister has formed a government in the hope of uniting the country’s factions, but challenges in combating corruption, powerful militias, and foreign influence loom.

Black Lives Matter protests in France and the United Kingdom have intensified the domestic debate over their countries’ past colonialism and present racism. Demonstrators, numbering in the thousands, have toppled memorials to historical figures associated with the slave trade and with colonial empires. In June, the protests spread to Belgium, with a crowd of about 10,000 in Brussels demonstrating against racism. On June 30, Belgian King Philippe, in a letter to Felix Tshisekedi, president of Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), expressed his "regret" over his country’s exploitation of DRC. King Philippe stopped short of an apology. Under Belgium's system of governance, an apology would be deemed a "political act" and could be done only by parliament. However, in a statement following the King’s letter, the new prime minister, Sophie Wilmes, urged Belgians "to look its past in the face." For his part, President Tshisekedi, in remarks commemorating the sixtieth anniversary of DRC’s independence, called for closer ties between the two countries, but based on a common understanding of history: "I consider it necessary that our common history with Belgium and its people be told to our children in the Democratic Republic of Congo as well as in Belgium on the basis of scientific work carried out by historians of the two countries." Unlike his predecessors, King Philippe has never visited Congo. He had expected to attend the commemoration, but COVID-19 precluded travel. A rapprochement with its former colonizer has been part of DRC’s foreign policy since Tshisekedi was sworn in on January 24, 2019. In his first official trip to Europe, Tshisekedi traveled to Belgium in September 2019 for a four-day visit to turn the page on the poor relations between the two countries that existed under his predecessor, Joseph Kabila. The Belgians and other Europeans at the 1885 Congress of Berlin have much to regret. The Congress, in effect, allocated Congo to King Philippe’s ancestor, Belgian King Leopold II, who began ruling Congo as his personal property that year, without reference to the constitutional government in Brussels. His harsh labor policies were designed to maximize the production of natural rubber. His brutality and waves of lethal disease led to the deaths of up to 20 million people (though some estimates are far lower). His numerous, well-documented atrocities led to Europe-wide pressure to end his personal regime, and in 1908, Belgium annexed Congo, and thereafter ruled it as a colony. Nevertheless, Leopold II still has admirers in Belgium, especially among the older generation. He had long been seen as having brought "civilization" to Africa. A parliamentary vote on a formal apology to the DRC might prove controversial for the country's fragile politics.

As Putin tries to manage Russia’s coronavirus outbreak, the national security bureaucracy faces challenges and opportunities of its own.