While France uses Kenya to preach "equal partnership," it is engaging in a modernized scramble for the continent's most prosperous markets

For decades, the Elysee Palace viewed Africa through the narrow lens of its former colonies - a cozy, if often toxic, arrangement known as 'Francafrique' in which language was a colonialist tool rather than a neutral medium of expression and knowledge. But as French flags are lowered and troops are ushered out of the Sahel, President Emmanuel Macron touched down in Nairobi with a different script.

Leading the Africa Forward Summit in Kenya this week, Macron brought a strategic pivot toward the Anglophone world - a cultural, and no less colonial, space usually reserved for a competitor colonialist, the UK. By courting 30 nations in a region where France has no colonial history, Paris is attempting a high-stakes rebranding. It is a move that seems to be born of necessity. As the traditional sphere of influence crumbles under the weight of anti-colonial resentment and shifting global alliances, France is betting that its future on the continent lies in the English-speaking East.

However, as colonial habits die hard, a visibly angry Macron stormed the stage while proceedings were in progress at Nairobi University, telling the audience to either be quiet or leave as he complained about the side noise and private discussions. It was a moment of pure theater in which the actor's mask slipped to reveal his true face - a lapse that the French press seized upon to express skepticism about this 'new' approach.

Le Figaro described the presidential outburst as a "total lack of respect." Far-left French MP Daniele Obono characterized it as yet another instance of the "behavior of a colonialist" who cannot help himself the moment he "sets foot on the African continent."

Even as Le Monde analyzes the pivot as a pragmatic economic necessity, the domestic narrative suggests that while the geography has changed, the 'schoolteacher' temperament of French diplomacy remains firmly intact. Kicked out of the front door in the Sahel, Paris is now trying to climb back through the back window, clutching the same old lecture notes.

Beyond the theatrical scolding at the podium, the summit's primary engine was a massive financial pivot: A 23 billion ($27 billion) investment package aimed at strategic sectors such as energy, AI, and agriculture. However, the optics of this 'new partnership' remain contested.

While Macron spoke of an era "free of hang-ups," Kenyan President William Ruto pointedly used the word 'sovereignty' eight times in his speech, insisting that the days of European dependency are over.

For Paris, this is clearly an attempt to find a new economic 'back window' as the front door slams shut elsewhere. With 14 billion of the funds coming from French giants such as TotalEnergies, Orange, and the shipping titan CMA CGM - which alone committed $823 million to modernize the Mombasa port - the strategy is transparent. Having lost its grip on the Sahel region and its traditional mineral extractions, France is now trying to entrench its corporations in the 'Silicon Savannah' and the booming English-speaking markets. It is a high-stakes gamble: Using billions in capital to buy the relevance it can no longer command through military presence or colonial-era linguistic ties.

This pivot is a strategic relocation of French capital into the traditional geopolitical 'backyard' of the UK. By aggressively courting Kenya, Nigeria, and South Africa, Macron is attempting to leapfrog over the ruins of his West African policy and land in territories where French colonial baggage carries less weight.

However, this Anglophone charm offensive has already ruffled feathers in London, where the British press has characterized the new French promised billions splurge as an attempt to buy influence within the commonwealth.

The irony is sharp. While Macron uses Nairobi to preach a new era of equal partnership, he is simultaneously engaging in a modernized scramble for the continent's most prosperous markets, effectively replacing the military boots of the Sahel with the corporate suits of the CAC 40.

For the nations of East Africa, the spectacle is clear: They are no longer just the subjects of a new Great Game, but the prize in a high-stakes competition between a rebranded France and a stagnant Britain, both of which are desperate to remain relevant in a multipolar Africa that is increasingly looking toward the East, where the influence of China and Russia continues to grow.

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While Paris offers billions to counter the entrenched influence of Beijing and the security allure of Moscow, leaders such as William Ruto are making it clear that they are no longer interested in choosing between 'competitor colonialists' or aging empires. They are choosing themselves, leveraging their 'sovereign equality' to ensure that if France wants to stay in the game, it must finally trade its lecture notes for a seat at an equal table. If the actor's mask continues to slip, this multi-billion-dollar pivot will be remembered not as a new beginning, but as the expensive final act of a power that refused to truly decolonize its mindset - leaving France once again standing outside looking in.

For Africans, the true measure of this French 'return' lies not in the headline-grabbing promises of capital, but in the fine print of the contracts. While the Elysee touts a 'shared future', the local reality is one of deep skepticism toward a model that remains fundamentally extractivist. In Mombasa, the shipping titan CMA CGM's massive commitment to port modernization is viewed by many local labor unions and commentators as a Trojan horse for automated, French-managed logistics that could sideline Kenyan workers in favor of digital efficiency.

Similarly, the Talent Afrique-France scheme (a pilot visa program) is being criticized as a brain-drain mechanism, designed to siphon off Africa's brightest AI and tech innovators to serve French firms rather than building local capacity. The ghost of the failed Vinci SA highway deal still haunts the relationship; Nairobi famously scrapped the lopsided project due to sovereign debt concerns, only to see the contract eventually handed to a Chinese corporate rival. For the burgeoning tech hubs of Lagos and Nairobi, Macron's 'equal partnership' looks suspiciously like a rebranding of trickle-down economics: The profits are repatriated to Paris, while the continent is left to shoulder the environmental and financial debt of a corporate-led scramble.

Ultimately, the mounting resistance across the continent is not a rejection of French investment for its own sake, but a rejection of the terms under which it has historically arrived.

African nations are not chasing away France out of a reflexive anti-Western bias; rather, they are opening their doors to partners who offer tangible, shared benefits over empty geopolitical rhetoric. They welcome the capital and the technology, but they demand that these tools serve people as much as they serve the shareholders of the CAC 40.

For Macron, the message from the Africa Forward summit is clear: The era of unilateral lecturing is over. If France wishes to remain a relevant player in this multipolar landscape, it must finally discard the 'back window' tactics and the 'schoolteacher' temperament, proving that it can exist as a partner in progress rather than a 'competitor colonialist' desperately clinging to a disappearing past.