Today in Dakar, during the inauguration of Sénégal’s new president, Bassirou Diomaye Faye put on a heavy gold necklace signifying he was “Grand master of The Order of the Lion.” The ceremony made me think first of Les Lions — Sénégal’s national soccer team — but I also heard echoes of Shelley…
Rise like Lions after slumber
In unvanquishable number–
Shake your chains to earth like dew
Which in sleep had fallen on you–
Ye are many — they are few.
Faye’s party won a landslide victory, though he was released from prison just ten days before Sénégal’s March 24th election (after eleven months in pretrial detention on a bogus charge)…
A few hours after the polls closed, partial results were already pointing to a first-round winner: Bassirou Diomaye Faye, the candidate of the most outspoken opposition to the incumbent government, and second in command of the African Patriots of Senegal for Work, Ethics and Fraternity party (PASTEF). Faye will be the youngest and most unexpected president in the history of independent Senegal.
Before his presidential candidacy, Faye was little known to the Senegalese public, working in the shadow of party leader Ousmane Sonko. Sonko, also a former tax official [and another victim of a rigged judicial proceeding] … gained popularity, especially among young people, for his highly critical discourse on the traditional political class and for his promises of a radical break from how the country has been governed for decades.
I flashed on Shelley again when I saw this photo of the grey-haired Maitre Cire Cledor Ly at the inauguration…
Lawyer Ly has led the team of advocates who have defended Sonko et al. against false charges. The presence of this elder man of law brought home how PASTEF’s triumph was marked by cool resistance to what Shelley once termed “The Mask of Anarchy.”
There’s been a lot of good talk about the role ripe youth played in PASTEF’s triumph. But it’s important to underscore (what one pundit has termed) “the maturity of the Sénégalese people.” They stayed strong and flexible, coming up with counters to every move made by ex-President Sall who tried on one ugly Trumpish gambit after another.
The past year(s) of pettifoggery and gangsterism led up to the low tribalist campaign run by Sall’s party against PASTEF. Journalist Pape Ale Niang tweeted video of one of Sall’s hacks. (English translation of the campaigner’s threat and Niang’s commentary below the rant.)
"Les Wolof, les commerçants, les menuisiers, le maçons, qui sont à Ourossogui vous n’avez pas le droit de voter quelqu’un d’autre qu’Amadou Ba à cette élection. Si vous vous votez pour l’opposition, c’est faire reculer la localité" Voilà un discours xénophobe d'un ministre.Triste pic.twitter.com/DYvgojq4br
— Pape Alé Niang (@papealeniang) March 18, 2024
“The Wolof, the traders, the carpenters, the masons, who are in Ourossogui you do not have the right to vote for anyone other than Amadou Ba in this election. If you vote for the opposition, it ‘is pushing the locality backwards.’
This is a xenophobic speech from a minister. Sad.”
OTOH, Sall isn’t as bad a loser as our nativist Don. Sall, at least, showed for Faye’s inauguration. Sall had to take his medicine today as Faye recalled all those arrested and brutalized during the protests against the ex-chief’s regime. This video of Faye’s short inaugural address — voiceover in English — starts with his straight talk on that front.
Faye’s way in the world seems to reflect the temper of his people who voted (as he said) “calmly and serenely” for change. It suggests Young Sénégal may not be bamboozled by what journalist Niang calls “the agonies of democratic stagnation.”
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For more on the back story of Sénégal’s election go here.
And here’s more from Shelley’s warning against the “masque of anarchy,” which is always on time for true democrats…
Stand ye calm and resolute,
Like a forest close and mute,
With folded arms and looks which are
Weapons of unvanquished war,
And let Panic, who outspeeds
The career of armèd steeds
Pass, a disregarded shade
Through your phalanx undismayed.
Let the laws of your own land,
Good or ill, between ye stand
Hand to hand, and foot to foot,
Arbiters of the dispute,…
On those who first should violate
Such sacred heralds in their state
Rest the blood that must ensue,
And it will not rest on you.
And if then the tyrants dare
Let them ride among you there,
Slash, and stab, and maim, and hew,—
What they like, that let them do.
With folded arms and steady eyes,
And little fear, and less surprise,
Look upon them as they slay
Till their rage has died away.
Then they will return with shame
To the place from which they came,
And the blood thus shed will speak
In hot blushes on their cheek.
Every woman in the land
Will point at them as they stand—
They will hardly dare to greet
Their acquaintance in the street.
And the bold, true warriors
Who have hugged Danger in wars
Will turn to those who would be free,
Ashamed of such base company.
And that slaughter to the Nation
Shall steam up like inspiration,
Eloquent, oracular;
A volcano heard afar.
And these words shall then become
Like Oppression’s thundered doom
Ringing through each heart and brain,
Heard again—again—again—
Rise like Lions after slumber
In unvanquishable number—
Shake your chains to earth like dew
Which in sleep had fallen on you—
Ye are many—they are few.