In a move that has left diplomatic correspondents scrambling for their thesauruses, the Democratic Republic of Congo has officially knighted singer Fally Ipupa, presumably for services to getting the entire continent to dance without injuring a single politician. Meanwhile, the United Kingdom, desperate to be remembered for something other than Brexit and bad weather, has announced a new cultural diplomacy push in Africa. One imagines a bunch of attachés in pinstripe suits awkwardly trying to twerk to local rhythms while handing out leaflets about the benefits of queuing.
Let us dissect this glorious absurdity with the surgical precision of a drunk surgeon. First, Fally Ipupa. A man whose voice can apparently make even the most stoic bureaucrat wiggle their hips like a recently electrocuted marionette. The DRC has made him a ‘Grand Officer of the National Order of the Leopard’, which sounds less like a knighthood and more like a job description for a particularly flamboyant zookeeper. But no, this is serious business. President Félix Tshisekedi himself pinned the medal on Ipupa’s chest, probably while trying not to bust a move. The reasoning? His ‘contribution to culture and national unity’. Because nothing says ‘unified nation’ like giving a pop star a shiny thing while the country’s eastern region is being torn apart by militias with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. But hey, at least the beat drops hard.
Now, the UK. Britain, once the empire on which the sun never set, now reduced to ‘cultural diplomacy’. This is essentially government-speak for ‘we don’t have any money, but we have Elton John and some old plays, maybe that counts for something?’. The Foreign Office has launched a new strategy to ‘deepen cultural ties’ with Africa, which translates to: send a few bands, some Shakespeare actors, and hope nobody mentions the looted Benin Bronzes. They’ve even appointed a Special Envoy for Culture. I imagine this poor sod’s job is to travel across Africa with a ukulele, playing ‘Wonderwall’ on repeat until someone agrees to buy a British-made train. The whole endeavour reeks of desperation. ‘Please like us! We promise we’re more than just the people who stole your stuff and gave you quinoa!’
The timing is exquisite. As the UK festers in a cost-of-living crisis and its government implodes faster than a reality TV star’s marriage, they choose now to remind Africa that they exist. And what better way than through a man whose music is described as ‘a blend of rumba, soukous, and modern beats’? It’s like showing up to a funeral with a glitter cannon. But the DRC’s move is equally farcical. A lion-themed medal for a singer while Congolese citizens flee violence in Kamanyola? That’s the kind of tone-deaf leadership usually reserved for pre-revolutionary France. I half expect the next honour to be a ‘Chevalier of the Invisible Wi-Fi Zone’ for mobile phone companies.
Yet, let us not be too cynical. Perhaps this synergy of pop star decorations and soft power hand-wringing is exactly what the continent needs. Maybe Fally Ipupa will use his leopard-themed authority to broker peace in the Kivus. Maybe the UK’s cultural attaché will discover that Africa doesn’t actually need a lesson in how to have culture. But I doubt it. More likely, this is just another day in the theatre of the absurd, where medals are handed out like party favours and diplomacy is a fancy word for ‘please trade with us, please’. I’ll be in the corner, sharpening my leopard-print quill, waiting for the next farce. Probably accompanied by Fally Ipupa’s greatest hits on loop. Because if you can’t beat them, at least you can dance to them.
