In a move that could have been ripped from the pages of a Victorian drama, Burkina Faso has formally severed diplomatic relations with France. The coup-ridden Sahel state, once a jewel in the French colonial crown, has now declared that Paris is no longer welcome. Meanwhile, the UK, ever the loyal steward of post-imperial order, has reaffirmed its commitment to Commonwealth stability. One cannot help but see the ghost of empires past haunting this affair.
Let us be clear: this is not a simple diplomatic squabble. It is a symptom of a deeper rot, a systemic decay in the Western order that mirrors the decline of Rome. The African continent, long treated as a chessboard for European powers, is now moving its own pieces. Burkina Faso’s decision follows a pattern of anti-French sentiment across the Sahel, where military juntas have risen on a wave of nationalism and resentment. France, the perennial hegemon, finds itself outmanoeuvred by local strongmen who play the anti-colonial card with aplomb.
The UK’s response is predictable. Whitehall, ever the anxious butler of global governance, rushes to assure us that the Commonwealth remains a force for stability. But what stability? The Commonwealth is a relic, a gentlemen’s club for former colonies, many of which are teetering on the brink. To speak of stability in the same breath as a region wracked by jihadist insurgencies and military coups is to indulge in a fantasy. The British elite, like their French counterparts, cannot grasp that the architecture of the 19th century is crumbling. They cling to the idea of ordered influence, but the natives are restless.
Consider the parallels. When Rome lost its grip on Gaul, local chieftains carved out their own domains. Today, the chieftains wear fatigues and give speeches about sovereignty. The language of anti-imperialism has been weaponised, and the old powers are left scrambling. France’s influence in West Africa is evaporating, and the UK’s commitment to Commonwealth stability is a fig leaf for a lack of real power. The empire, in all its forms, is a memory. The sooner we accept that, the better.
Some will argue that this is progress, that Africa is finally asserting its autonomy. And to an extent, they are right. But let us not romanticise the situation. Burkina Faso is not a model of enlightened governance. It is a military dictatorship, run by men who came to power on the back of a coup. The severing of ties with France is not a victory for democracy. It is a move by a regime desperate to consolidate power by blaming external forces. This is the politics of the scapegoat, played out on an international stage.
The UK, for its part, should take note. The Commonwealth is not a lifeboat. It is a sinking ship, and the lifeboats are being hoisted by local strongmen who have no loyalty to London. The commitment to stability is noble, but it is also naive. The world is fragmenting, and the old alliances are fraying. Burkina Faso’s break with France is a reminder that the post-colonial order is a fiction. The British foreign office can issue all the statements it likes, but it cannot turn back the clock. The Empire is dead. Long live the chaos.
