It has become the popular phrase of the moment, even in Libreville, Gabon's rather Francophile capital: "French, go home!" This slogan was shouted on Monday, September 4. It was aimed at a few journalists by a handful of people gathered in front of the Palais du Bord de Mer, the official residence of the country's president. At the same time, General Brice Clotaire Oligui Nguema, the country's new strongman, was sworn in as chairman of the Committee for the Transition and Restoration of Institutions. Three days earlier, Nguema, the Gabonese Republican Guard's commander, had deposed Ali Bongo Ondimba, the president since the death of his father and predecessor, Omar Bongo Ondimba. In practice, the senior officer thereby ended 56 years of family rule and, in the public imagination, almost as many years of collusion with France.

In Libreville, no political party has (as of yet) exploited the anti-French sentiment that is boiling over elsewhere in Africa. "But it's just below the surface," confided a French diplomat, "so it's best to keep a low profile." Paris has been content to do the minimum: Condemn the coup, without saying too much; and call for a return to constitutional order, with no advice given on the duration or content of the transition. Above all, make no waves. Here, disenchantment with France has been building gradually since the end of the "reign" of patriarch and autocrat Omar Bongo, in 2009, without any eruption of hatred.

In other African capitals, however, resentment is running high. From Bamako to Kinshasa, and from Dakar to N'Djamena, within what was previously the French preserve of its former colonies, or in the wider French-speaking world (as in the Democratic Republic of the Congo), a complex set of reasons explains the loss of French influence, which even goes as far as rejection. Felt with varying degrees of intensity, this long process of disenchantment began in the aftermath of the Second World War. It became stratified through a wave of former French colonies acquiring their independence in the 1960s, then strengthened with the end of the Cold War. Today, African leaders and public opinion are increasingly vocal in expressing their grievances.

In Gabon, resentment is particularly political, fueled by a troubled past and perpetuated by new blunders. In March, when Emmanuel Macron took part in the One Forest Summit in Libreville, dedicated to the preservation of the Congo River basin, he was immediately suspected by some in civil society and the opposition of having made the trip to support Bongo, who was then running for a third term in the upcoming presidential election on August 20. The election was shaping up to be a farce. The Gabonese president, who suffered a serious stroke in 2018, did not appear to be up to the job. Had Macron come to give him a helping hand? Like before?

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