In the cultural corridors of northern England, organizers are preparing for See My World, an ambitious arts festival in Manchester designed to showcase pan-African thought through film, poetry, and dance. The event, held at the Contact theatre, intends to explore how historical lessons can shape contemporary diaspora communities. To its organizers, it represents a milestone in community-led cultural celebration. But to those watching the strategic landscape from Whitehall and the Pentagon, the persistent Western habit of viewing Africa primarily through the lens of domestic cultural affinity underscores a far more sobering reality: our adversaries are playing a completely different game on the continent.
Cultural diplomacy and the engagement of vibrant diaspora communities have always had a role in statecraft. A confident nation uses its cultural appeal to forge relationships and broadcast democratic values. Yet for the past decade, Western capitals have increasingly substituted feel-good soft-power initiatives for rigorous, sustained strategic engagement. We curate film retrospectives and fund academic colloquia while authoritarian revisionists deploy capital, security guarantees, and paramilitary forces to systematically dismantle Western influence across Africa.
The intelligence picture could not be clearer. Africa is rapidly becoming a primary theater of great-power competition for the remainder of the century. By 2050, one in four human beings will reside on the continent. It possesses vast reserves of critical minerals—cobalt, lithium, and rare earths—essential to both green energy transitions and modern defense manufacturing. Its littorals flank vital sea lines of communication through the Red Sea and the Atlantic. Planners at U.S. Africa Command and their European counterparts understand these fundamentals well. Regrettably, their political masters often treat the region as a philanthropic afterthought rather than a strategic imperative.
Moscow has shown no such hesitation. The Kremlin does not dispatch cultural envoys to lecture local leaders; it dispatches weapons and mercenaries. Operating through the rebranded remnants of the Wagner Group, now consolidated as the Africa Corps, Russia has capitalized on anti-Western sentiment and governance vacuums across the Sahel. In Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger, democratically elected governments have fallen, Western counterterrorism missions have been expelled, and Moscow has stepped in as the guarantor of junta survival in exchange for gold, uranium, and strategic depth. The resulting intelligence black holes severely compromise Western counterterrorism capabilities and open new avenues for migration weaponization toward Europe.
Simultaneously, the People’s Republic of China is executing a patient, disciplined campaign of economic and infrastructural encirclement. Through the Belt and Road Initiative, Beijing has financed ports, railways, and telecommunications infrastructure, frequently trapping fragile economies in debt obligations that yield strategic concessions. From its naval base in Djibouti to its ambitions for a deep-water presence on Africa’s Atlantic coast, the People’s Liberation Army seeks global power projection. Meanwhile, Chinese-built telecommunications networks ensure that digital governance across vast swaths of the continent runs on Chinese servers, creating systemic counterintelligence risks for Western forces operating in theater.
Against this backdrop of ruthless transactional realism, Western policymakers frequently respond with moralizing rhetoric, fragmented aid packages, and inward-looking celebrations of heritage. The diaspora in cities like Manchester represents a genuine geopolitical asset—a bridge of shared language, education, and familial ties. Yet absent an institutional framework that ties these human connections to defense cooperation, trade parity, and infrastructure investment, they remain symbolic. Culture without capability does not deter a Russian paramilitary platoon or outbid a state-backed Chinese conglomerate.
The uniformed personnel charged with defending the West's global interests know that soft power is a magnifier, not an engine. It works only when backed by credible deterrence, robust intelligence sharing, and dependable security partnerships. Western nations must offer African partners a compelling, tangible alternative to autocratic protection: serious professional military education, maritime domain awareness, and industrial partnerships that create domestic security capacity.
There is nothing inherently objectionable about a film festival in Manchester celebrating African artistic traditions. But strategic planners must not confuse cultural appreciation with national influence. History is not written in festival program notes; it is determined by who secures the sea lanes, controls the critical supply chains, and provides stability in an anarchic world. If the West continues to treat Africa as a venue for cultural sentimentality rather than a vital frontier of national security, we will find ourselves entirely shut out of the century’s most contested continent.