And so Talbott’s African tour started with an apt metaphor: America trying to get in where Prance has things locked up. Burundi is part of a French “sphere of influence”-a reborn phrase from the past. It refers to the doctrine of real-politik that assigned to each of the great powers a region in which their writ ran unchallenged. The term is back in the news, and it’s got U.S. policy-makers nervous. Though the American invasion of Haiti has so far been a success, in one respect it’s dangerous. Americas know that their actions in Haiti–or Cuba–can be used by Russians to claim a right to intervene in the countries of the old Soviet Union, the territory which Moscow calls the near abroad. Already Soviet peace-keepers are present in the Caucasian republics, and even “liberal” Russians like Foreign Minister Andrei Kozyrev assert that Russia has a distinct and primary interest in the region.
That bothers more than Americans; it’s made West European policymakers profoundly uneasy. They fear a renewal of the kind of great power struggle that existed long before the ideological battles of 1945 to 1990. East Europeans, for their part, worry (as they have since the 18th century) that in the coming years their nations will become contested ground between a Russian and German sphere of influence. Anxious to soothe such fears, national-security adviser Anthony Lake recently said that “to cede to others a right to intervene in the affairs of their neighbors without regard to international norms” was “dangerously wrong.” But spheres of influence predated the cold war, and without determined action by U.S. diplomats, will survive it.
This new debate on spheres of influence made Talbott’s trip to Africa important for reasons that go beyond the politics of that troubled continent. If, as Lake says, the United States is “a great nation whose interests and ideals are global in scope,” then America will have to become engaged in Africa’s manifold problems. But as Talbott’s trip showed, if America does so, it may butt heads with France, which has its own interests in Africa. This Franco-American tussle could be a model for the kind of foreign-policy battle that will soon absorb us all.
Talbott didn’t duck the challenge. His mission included trips to Burundi, Zaire and COte d’Ivoire. Though only COte d’Ivoire was ever a French colony, in all three countries ties to Paris are strong-as is a particularly French attitude to the heritage of colonialism. For the British the “independence” of former African colonies was the signal for a clean break, and for British left-wing intellectuals “neocolonialism”–an effort to continue to control an ex-colony’s economy and politics –was the ultimate sin. For France, by contrast, “independence” was an opportunity to recast its relationship with Africa in ways that advanced French commercial and political interests. Africa has been a major source of funds for French political parties, while–to the intense annoyance of others- French oil and construction companies have grown rich on sweetheart deals in Francophone countries. And unlike the British, the French have been quick to intervene militarily in Africa, either to support client regimes (as in Chad in 1988) or for humanitarian reasons (as in Rwanda this summer). French Defense Minister Francois Leotard has called for a European (read “French”) rapid-deployment force for the continent.
Defenders of France say that it at least stays engaged in African politics. Yet in the past such “engagement” has also propped up dictatorial kleptocracies, like that of President Mobutu Sese Seko in Zaire –just as American “engagement” in Latin America once supported dictators there. Moreover, the French role in Africa can stymie the best alternative to spheres of influence: regional alliances between neighboring states. “Africa’s problems should be addressed by Africans,” says Edward Bwanali, Malawi’s foreign minister, and in southern Africa there are signs that they will be. Last week Zimbabwean President Robert Mugabe summoned regional leaders to Ha-rare to forge a common line on the elections in Mozambique; Nelson Mandela’s government is determined to work with the former “frontline states” on regional questions.
But nobody speaks French in southern Africa. In West Africa, where they do, the contrast is stark. In Ghana, which has held free elections, adopted free-market reforms and sent peacekeeping troops to Liberia, top officials complained to visiting Americans that local Francophones would not support regional economic structures or security initiatives. As one exasperated Ghanaian asked, “When will [the Francophones] end their alliance with the colonial master and form one with their brothers?”
Not any time soon, to judge from Talbott’s reception in Cote d’Ivoire. In Abidjan, the country’s capital, where the presidential palace is flanked by soldiers dressed like Napoleon’s Imperial Guard, Talbott spoke to the National Assembly on the virtues of democracy, free markets and-especially-regional alliances. Some of his audience dozed.
They’ll continue to do so without a prod from France. “We’re not spoiling for a fight with Paris,” says Talbott. “We have to work together.” One U.S. ambassador is skeptical, saying, “The French don’t like us muscling in on their turf.” For that matter, Americans, in the past, have protected their own turf in Latin America and the Caribbean. The power of history and geography keeps spheres of influence alive.
