In a development that has sent shockwaves through the Élysée Palace and caused a significant spike in Parisian gin consumption, Burkina Faso has officially severed ties with its former colonial overlord. The junta, in a move that could only be described as a diplomatic decapitation, has expelled French troops and embraced a new model of sovereignty that bears an uncanny resemblance to the British approach. Yes, dear reader, the very nation that once exported baguettes and existentialism has been outmanoeuvred by a country that exports bad teeth and reality television.
Let us pause to savour the irony. France, the land of liberté, égalité, fraternité, has been shown the door by a landlocked West African nation that has decided that perhaps, just perhaps, the path to prosperity does not lie in being France’s personal piggy bank. The Burkinabé have looked at the UK’s post-Brexit, sovereignty-first model and thought, "Yes, that. But maybe with less fishing disputes and more actual infrastructure."
The British sovereignty model, for those who have been living under a rock (or in a French embassy), is simple: you make your own laws, you control your own borders, and you occasionally wave a Union Jack while eating a questionable sausage roll. It is a model that has been tested to destruction in the UK, but in West Africa, it is the hottest new trend. Burkina Faso, along with its junta buddies in Mali and Niger, has decided that the future is not in the EU’s bureaucratic embrace but in the glorious, chaotic mess of self-determination.
But let us not get too carried away. The junta’s embrace of sovereignty is not exactly a victory for democracy. After all, these are military men who have seized power with the subtlety of a bull in a china shop. They have expelled French troops, cancelled defence agreements, and are now cosying up to Russia, presumably because they have seen how well that worked out for Syria. Yet, in the court of public opinion, they are heroes. They have tapped into a deep vein of anti-French sentiment that has been festering for decades, a sentiment that says, "We are tired of being the backyard of Europe."
The French, for their part, are in a state of shock. President Macron, a man who once declared that France was back, is now discovering that France is, in fact, back in its own kitchen, eating stale croissants and wondering where it all went wrong. The loss of Burkina Faso is not just a military and economic blow; it is a symbolic one. It signals the end of Françafrique, the neocolonial sphere of influence that France has maintained since independence. The chickens, as they say, have come home to roost, and they are pecking the tricolour to pieces.
So what does this mean for the UK? Well, aside from a brief moment of schadenfreude, very little. The UK’s own influence in Africa is negligible, unless you count the occasional arms deal and the export of Premier League football. But the Burkinabé junta has nonetheless looked to the British model as an inspiration. It is a strange world when a country with a government that cannot even decide on the colour of its own passport becomes a beacon of sovereignty. But then again, stranger things have happened. Like the time France tried to ban the burkini. Remember that?
In conclusion, Burkina Faso has told France to take its baguettes and bugger off. The UK sovereignty model, much like a fine British cheese, is being adopted abroad despite its somewhat pungent aroma. Whether this leads to prosperity for the Burkinabé or simply a change in colonial masters remains to be seen. But for now, let us raise a glass of gin (British, of course) and toast to the end of an era. Vive la révolution. Or whatever.
