Trump and the African Presidents: The Weight of Words, Shock of the Image
By hosting five of his counterparts from the continent at the White House on July 9, the American president once again displayed the arrogance of the uncultured rich. But the parties involved could have refused to participate in a performance that was bound to backfire.
The image is recent, and altogether rather disturbing. There is Donald Trump, president of the United States, seated triumphantly behind the Resolute Desk in the Oval Office. Standing behind him, lined up like disciplined extras, were five African heads of state: Senegal’s Bassirou Diomaye Faye, Mauritania’s Mohamed Ould Ghazouani, Gabon’s Brice Clotaire Oligui Nguema, Liberia’s Joseph Boakai and Guinea-Bissau’s Umaro Sissoco Embalo. It was July 9, on the sidelines of a White House dinner. Trump is the only man seated. All the others, who are supposed to carry the voice of a continent, are relegated to the background of a diplomatic theater in which they are neither actors nor directors.
This photo is not just a simple blunder in protocol. It captures an implicit and brutal hierarchy — that of a world where Africa, always represented but rarely a player, must conform to the stagecraft of the dominant. Trump reigns there with the arrogance of the uncultured rich, surrounded by leaders who, in spite of themselves, endorse by their frozen presence the idea of an unequal diplomatic order.
Replace Trump with the leader of France, Portugal or Great Britain: Would such a display be tolerated in Africa? The humiliation suffered a few months ago by Volodymyr Zelenskyy, the head of a European state at war, provoked shock. In this case, resignation seems to have become the norm.
What If They Had Said No?
Imagine another scenario if those African heads of state had declined the arrangement — if they had simply said, Why don’t we all sit? Nothing dramatic would have happened. But this simple act would have marked a break.
Symbolically, it would have affirmed a self-asserted sovereignty, dignity that does not compromise its position. That would have broken with the recurrent mise en scene of an Africa that is always waiting, always grateful — an Africa that never takes the initiative with respect to its own image.
Refusing What Offends
Geopolitically, the context was propitious. Trump had already insulted the continent with his contemptuous remarks. A coordinated response would have provoked a global debate on how the world sees, receives and, at times, humiliates African leaders. It would have been a powerful gesture, comparable to those made by China, India or Brazil, who know how to refuse what offends.
Politically, millions of Africans tired of humiliating displays would have hailed the gesture. In a world where symbolism matters, standing up for one’s existence only has meaning if one also chooses when to stand, or when to sit.
The Narrative of a Docile Africa
That failed refusal is a lesson because posing for a photo is never neutral. On that day, by lining up behind a man who has publicly denigrated their continent, those leaders unwittingly helped to validate a narrative that is not their own; that of a subordinate, silent, and docile Africa.
Another story remains to be written. You can reframe photos, redefine gestures. Provided that Africa at last embraces, not the background, but center stage, and why not standing, but for itself and because it has chosen to do so.
The image is recent, and altogether rather disturbing. There is Donald Trump, president of the United States, seated triumphantly behind the Resolute Desk in the Oval Office. Standing behind him, lined up like disciplined extras, were five African heads of state: Senegal’s Bassirou Diomaye Faye, Mauritania’s Mohamed Ould Ghazouani, Gabon’s Brice Clotaire Oligui Nguema, Liberia’s Joseph Boakai and Guinea-Bissau’s Umaro Sissoco Embalo. It was July 9, on the sidelines of a White House dinner. Trump is the only man seated. All the others, who are supposed to carry the voice of a continent, are relegated to the background of a diplomatic theater in which they are neither actors nor directors.
This photo is not just a simple blunder in protocol. It captures an implicit and brutal hierarchy — that of a world where Africa, always represented but rarely a player, must conform to the stagecraft of the dominant. Trump reigns there with the arrogance of the uncultured rich, surrounded by leaders who, in spite of themselves, endorse by their frozen presence the idea of an unequal diplomatic order.
Replace Trump with the leader of France, Portugal or Great Britain: Would such a display be tolerated in Africa? The humiliation suffered a few months ago by Volodymyr Zelenskyy, the head of a European state at war, provoked shock. In this case, resignation seems to have become the norm.
What If They Had Said No?
Imagine another scenario if those African heads of state had declined the arrangement — if they had simply said, Why don’t we all sit? Nothing dramatic would have happened. But this simple act would have marked a break.
Symbolically, it would have affirmed a self-asserted sovereignty, dignity that does not compromise its position. That would have broken with the recurrent mise en scene of an Africa that is always waiting, always grateful — an Africa that never takes the initiative with respect to its own image.
Refusing What Offends
Geopolitically, the context was propitious. Trump had already insulted the continent with his contemptuous remarks. A coordinated response would have provoked a global debate on how the world sees, receives and, at times, humiliates African leaders. It would have been a powerful gesture, comparable to those made by China, India or Brazil, who know how to refuse what offends.
Politically, millions of Africans tired of humiliating displays would have hailed the gesture. In a world where symbolism matters, standing up for one’s existence only has meaning if one also chooses when to stand, or when to sit.
The Narrative of a Docile Africa
That failed refusal is a lesson because posing for a photo is never neutral. On that day, by lining up behind a man who has publicly denigrated their continent, those leaders unwittingly helped to validate a narrative that is not their own; that of a subordinate, silent, and docile Africa.
Another story remains to be written. You can reframe photos, redefine gestures. Provided that Africa at last embraces, not the background, but center stage, and why not standing, but for itself and because it has chosen to do so.
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