In a move that has sent shivers down the quiche-fed spines of the Élysée Palace, Burkina Faso has officially severed diplomatic relations with France. The land of infinite bureaucracy and questionable perfume has been given its marching orders, leaving a vacuum in the Sahel that Britain, in a fit of colonial nostalgia, has clumsily declared itself 'the most trusted Western partner' in Africa.
One can only imagine the scene in Whitehall: a room full of civil servants, gin bottles at the ready, dusting off old maps of empire and muttering, 'Right then, who’s for a spot of neocolonialism, but this time with more acronyms?' The Foreign Office, never one to miss an opportunity for self-congratulatory puffery, has issued a statement that reads like a desperate Tinder bio: 'Britain is reliable, Britain is steadfast, Britain will not abandon you for a baguette.'
The irony, of course, is that Burkina Faso’s break with France comes after decades of being treated like a cash-strapped cousin at a wedding. The French relationship was always one of 'you take the crumbs, we’ll take the uranium.' Now, the Burkinabe have decided they’d rather navigate the treacherous waters of global diplomacy alone than endure another lecture from a Macron about la fraternité while their economy is pillaged.
Enter Britain, stage left, tripping over its own red tape. The government has announced a 'new chapter' in UK-Africa relations, which apparently involves sending a few trade delegations, promising to 'listen,' and hoping no one brings up the Benin Bronzes. The audacity of declaring oneself 'most trusted' without a vote, a plebiscite, or even a strongly worded tweet of endorsement is pure British pluck, the same pluck that once convinced the world that marmite was edible.
Let us not forget the context. Britain’s involvement in Africa is a history book written in blood and diamonds. But now, with a straight face, they claim to be the 'ethical partner' of choice. This is the same Britain that sells arms to Saudi Arabia, that brexited itself into a corner, that cannot decide whether to be a global player or a grumpy island. And yet, here they are, offering a 'partnership of equals' to a nation that has just kicked out its former master.
Burkina Faso, meanwhile, is no fool. Its military junta, led by Captain Ibrahim Traoré, has been busy pivoting to Russia and other non-Western powers. The relationship with France was a colonial hangover, and they’ve chosen to go cold turkey. Britain’s overtures are being met with polite smiles and a raised eyebrow, much like a shopkeeper watching a drunk customer stumble in at closing time.
The real question is: what does 'most trusted' even mean? Is it trust in the sense of 'we won’t invade you for resources'? Or trust that we’ll write a strongly worded letter when things go wrong? In a continent where Chinese loans come with no strings attached (apart from the debt), and Russian mercenaries offer 'security' for a price, Britain’s offer of 'soft power' looks less like a lifeline and more like a pamphlet.
But let’s not be too harsh. The British have always been masters of making a virtue of necessity. Having lost an empire, they now sell the idea of 'partnership' as if it were a new flavour of crisps. And who knows? Perhaps in this chaotic world, where trust is as rare as a quiet train carriage, Britain’s very mediocrity might be its selling point. After all, you can’t be disappointed if you expect nothing.
So here’s to Britain, the new best friend of Africa. May your trade deals be many, your gaffes few, and your gin cabinet always full. As for Burkina Faso, they’ve taken a bold step into the unknown. Let’s hope they don’t trade one master for another, even if that master speaks with a posh accent and offers a nice cuppa.
