IMANI: Why Macron’s East African investment reset faces ‘audacity’ backlash

Since French President Emmanuel Macron landed in town, Nairobi has barely sat still. From jogging through the streets shoulder-to-shoulder with marathon legend Eliud Kipchoge to a traditional dance with President William Ruto and making ugali with rugby star-turned-chef Dennis Ombachi, the optics have been one for the books. 

But it took a single flash of temper—an unscripted dressing-down of a noisy audience—to expose the raw nerves.

Irritated by persistent chatter during a panel of artists and young entrepreneurs at the University of Nairobi on Monday, Macron halted proceedings, seized the microphone and scolded the room for a “total lack of respect”.

He then suggested that those wishing to hold side conversations should either use the “bilateral rooms” or “go outside.”

While the hall fell silent and some in the auditorium applauded his call for order, the clip went viral within hours, cleaving Kenyan public opinion.

The moment was widely interpreted on social media and by local political figures as a patronising display of “colonial audacity”.

Critics were not confined to Kenya but were spread across the continent, all rebuffing the French leader for the outburst. Many people argued that such a public reprimand of sovereign citizens within their own borders violates basic diplomatic decorum. 

To these people, the incident served as a painful reminder of a paternalistic era, with observers noting that no African head of state would ever be permitted to similarly “discipline” a European audience on their own soil without causing a major international incident.

The backlash has been particularly sharp among the youth and academia, who view the interruption as a patronising ‘schoolmaster’ tactic that undermines Macron’s rhetoric of a partnership of equals.

And as criticisms were landing, riot police cordoned off the Kenyatta International Convention Centre, arresting at least 11 demonstrators — including a French national — who had marched under banners denouncing “imperialist domination”.  

The episode was a gift to domestic opposition figures already sceptical of Ruto’s summit-hosting ambitions.

Led by Wiper’s Kalonzo Musyoka, the opposition stated that the glamour of international summits is being used to “mask local human rights violations and the steady erosion of democratic space” ahead of the next electoral cycle. 

But let’s look at why, perhaps, the visitor had it in him to talk down to his hosts — Macron arrived bearing investment pledges totalling €23 billion (Sh3.47 trillion), a financial bazooka intended to cement France as a primary partner in Africa’s green and technological future. 

Of this, €14 billion originates from French private sectors, while €9 billion is earmarked from African entities to bolster artificial intelligence, agriculture and the energy transition. 

Macron said the commitments would create more than 250,000 direct jobs across France and the continent. 

“What the African continent is asking for is not that we come and give aid,” he said. “They want us to come and invest,” he said at the business forum with nearly 7,000 participants and 700 business meetings.

On defence, the summit followed the signing in April 2026 of a five-year renewable cooperation agreement that brought 800 French troops to Mombasa for joint training exercises. It also covers maritime security, intelligence sharing, peacekeeping and disaster response. 

The pact grants French forces diplomatic-style immunity and gives Paris primary jurisdiction over offences committed by its soldiers on Kenyan soil, a provision that has also drawn fierce condemnation.

For Ruto, the visit yielded a windfall in the form of the Macron Accord, a bilateral suite of 11 agreements valued at Sh116 billion. 

But for Macron, choosing Nairobi as the first non-Francophone host for this forum since its inception in 1973 signalled an intentional departure from the volatile Sahel. After anti-French sentiment reached a fever pitch, Paris was forced to withdraw its soldiers from Mali, Burkina Faso and Niger between 2022 and 2025.

France had since the independence of its former African colonies maintained a policy of economic, political and military sway dubbed Françafrique, which included keeping thousands of troops in the region.

Consequently, Macron has turned toward the stable, English-speaking gateway of East Africa. 

The 2026 gathering is the first since the collapse of those West African relationships, making the pivot to Anglophone Africa a matter of strategic survival.

While France may be offering billions in investment, such financial power does not grant a foreign leader the right to shush us. 

And as Pan-Africanist voices have opined, the lecture reinforces a hierarchy whereby African agency is secondary to European expectations — a paradigm that we are yet to shake off, decades after Africa’s freedom. 

As Kenya navigates this influx of French capital and military cooperation, the underlying tension remains: is this a genuine partnership of equals, or is there more than meets the eye?