Why France's East Africa pivot faces a rough landing

President William Ruto and French President Emmanuel Macron during the Africa Forward Summit in Nairobi. [File, Standard]

France’s search for a new foothold in Africa is increasingly leading it eastward. Having been pushed out of large parts of the Sahel, Paris is determinedly looking to Kenya and East African region as the launch pad for a renewed African strategy.

But the disquiet — violent local reaction and muted diplomatic anxiety - beneath its surface, the French may discover that East Africa will not offer the easy landing they seek. The protests that greeted French President Emmanuel Macron’s participation in the Africa Forward Summit in Nairobi were more than a passing demonstration. They were an early warning that anti-French sentiment, once largely confined to Francophone Africa, is finding resonance in a region traditionally viewed as outside France’s sphere of influence. As protesters marched toward the Kenyatta International Convention Centre carrying placards denouncing French imperialism and neo-colonialism, Kenyan police responded with tear gas, arrests, and warning shots. The images quickly circulated across social media and activist networks, turning what was intended to showcase a new France-Africa partnership into a debate about France’s troubled legacy on the continent. For Paris, the timing could not be worse. For a decade now, France has suffered a dramatic erosion of influence across the Sahel. Military-led governments in Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger have expelled French troops, terminated defence arrangements, and openly challenged Paris’ political and economic presence.

Faced with shrinking influence in West and Central Africa, France is recalibrating. Kenya, East Africa’s largest economy and one of Africa’s most influential diplomatic hubs, appears an attractive alternative. French investments are expanding. Security cooperation is deepening. High-level diplomatic exchanges are becoming more frequent. Paris presents this engagement as a modern partnership built on mutual respect, trade, innovation, climate action, and shared prosperity. Yet, many are unconvinced. For many African intellectuals and activists, the legacy was not only economic extraction but also the erosion of local identities, institutions, and systems of knowledge. This is a historical baggage for Paris to wish away.

Indeed, France’s experience in Rwanda offers a sobering lesson about the limits of influence in modern Africa. Relations between Paris and Kigali deteriorated sharply after the 1994 genocide in which more than one million people were killed. Rwanda repeatedly accused France of complicity through its support for the regime that perpetrated the genocide. Whether or not Paris accepts every aspect of those accusations, the political consequences have been profound.

France is, therefore, entering East Africa at a time when the continent is reassessing old alliances and demanding greater agency in international affairs. Kenya presents a particularly complex environment. Unlike many former French colonies, Kenya carries its own anti-colonial memory rooted in resistance to British rule. Its political culture is shaped by a strong pan-African tradition, an active civil society, and an increasingly vocal youth movement skeptical of foreign influence. This makes Nairobi strategically important, but politically fragile. France may succeed in building stronger partnerships in Kenya and across East Africa. But if it assumes that the region will simply replace the influence it has lost in the Sahel, it risks repeating old mistakes.

The message from Nairobi is unmistakable: Any power seeking to make Kenya its gateway to the continent will have to contend with a generation increasingly determined to define Africa’s future on its own terms.

- The writer is a consulting editor