Cutting the Baby in Half: American Strategy in Africa

The failures of American strategy in the Sahel made evident by Niger’s recent expulsion of U.S. forces points to a larger problem, that of America’s overall strategy in Africa.

The problems with the strategy are manifold. A crucial one is the persistent lack of interest that prevents Washington from backing any of its policies with anything like the resources and levels of engagement they might require to succeed. Strategy, after all, often is described in terms of “ends-ways-means,” which implies that “ways” and “means” must be aligned and sufficient to achieve the desired means. If one wants to invade France in 1944, one had better do it with a gigantic force. Anything less results in, well, Dieppe. This is rarely, if ever the case when it comes to American engagement in Africa. Very often what the U.S. Government does is apply sufficient “ways” and “means” to be able to say it has checked the required boxes. Sometimes I think the good folks in the State Department and National Security know this but are resigned to work with what they can get. Sometimes I think they are convinced by their own specious theories of success, and they are entirely in earnest.

But perhaps the greater problem is the “ends.” U.S. policy consistently has been torn between two competing imperatives. One is finding ways to promote “values” and democracy and, ideally, step away from backing or just appearing to back autocratic and usually kleptocratic governments. The other is the pursuit of “realist” or using realist means to achieve national security priorities such as counterterrorism or Great Power Competition. The two imperatives are not necessarily in contradiction, but they often are, and the result of an inability to decide between prioritizing the one over the other leads to incoherence, inconsistency, and, as we have seen, failure.

This is not an argument for one imperative over the other, but rather an argument in favor of deciding between the two, or, in lieu of that, thinking realistically about how to strike a middle path that somehow satisfies both while being cognizant of the dilemma. That would be difficult, but I’d like to think not impossible.

What might a strategy look like if the U.S. Government were really to lean in on a “values-based” policy?

Washington could disavow any and all assistance to autocratic governments. No security assistance. No sweetheart trade deals like the African Growth and Opportunity Act (AGOA). And perhaps, most controversially, no aid, either bilaterally or through the World Bank or the International Monetary Fund. Financial assistance, after all, tends directly or indirectly to prop up incompetent regimes. It could disavow Tchad’s Mahamat Déby, for example, or make clear in no uncertain terms that Côte d’Ivoire’s Alassane Ouattara must not run for a fourth term, however much Washington likes him. It could pull the plug on assistance to the juntas of Burkina Faso, Mali, and Niger (which Washington has not done). It could cease to give Uganda’s President Yoweri Museveni the time of day and cut that country off of all aid. The U.S. could stop inviting many African countries to participate in exercises such as Flintlock and African Lion. The list of African countries we’d end up cutting loose is long, but perhaps it’s for the best. Of course, where things get awkward are with America’s strong partnership with Morocco (a monarchy). And never mind U.S. policy toward the Arab countries of the Middle East.

Chad’s Mahamat Deby, an autocrat the U.S. backs despite everything.

The corollary would be to shower love on Africa’s most democratic countries, and ideally at much greater scale than what we currently offer. There, too, however, things get tricky, given how imperfect many of those are. Déby’s recent election was by all measures a farce, a common phenomenon on the African continent. Elections in Kenya—a country the White House has in fact singled out for affection—often are marred by irregularities and violence. What on earth do we do with someone like Ethiopia’s Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed? Was he democratically elected? Well, sort of. Speaking of, what do we do about legitimately democratic countries that do things contrary to U.S. interests, such as South Africa? I’ve heard more than a few people in Washington speak of kicking South Africa out of AGOA.

Biden and Kenya’s President William Ruto.

What might a hard-nosed realist strategy look like?

That depends on our objective. If it is Great Power Competition, it ultimately would mean being more than a little flexible regarding the kinds of regimes in place. It would mean employing serious carrots and sticks, though far more compelling than what Washington has been willing to commit to. We reportedly tried to woo Niger’s junta—after failing to back efforts to reverse the coup there—but offered nothing Niger wants, and without making threats commensurate with need. The U.S. government reportedly scolded Niger about a possible uranium deal with Iran, which only annoyed its leaders. What might it have taken to bribe the Nigerien junta to disavow a deal? Or force it to comply? Niger’s rulers do not care about terrorism, democracy, or even their country’s economy. They mainly wish to hold on to power.

An exiled Nigerien official recently asked me what Washington might do if the Niger-Iran uranium deal goes through. My answer: Nothing. Of course, it could do all sorts of things…

Burkina Faso and Mali presented similar challenges with regard to tilting from France to Russia. What carrots or sticks might have induced them to do otherwise? Chad’s Déby increasingly is flirting with Russia. Are we doing anything about that? We could. How? Honestly, the possibilities are endless.

Similar things could be said about luring countries away from China.

Of course, aligning with juntas often proves short-sighted given their fragility and, in any event, makes us complicit in their human rights violations. Autocrats tend not to serve the interests of their people, and aligning with them very often is contrary to their interests. Tarnishing our reputation in the eyes of African publics likewise can undermine our position in myriad ways.

Between these two basic options, U.S. policy has been to do a little of both, and seldom with any firmness or consistency. We do neither well. Improving our record might require making choices, and then acting vigorously in support of that choice.

What either approach would require is more attention and greater engagement. It might also require ponying up for the kinds of investments many African countries look to other countries for. They want roads and ports. Judging from a survey of World Bank programs, we offer less concrete forms of assistance that tend to reflect American domestic agendas but do little to demonstrate American support.