UN summit: Unlike their counterparts, African presidents went to beg, not to lead

When the world gathers at the United Nations, it is meant to be a theatre of power, not a charity shop. Yet at this year’s General Assembly, many African presidents treated the stage as a begging platform: Appeals for money, plaintive catalogues of suffering, and few strategic offers of leadership. The photos from New York captured tired faces, not a continent’s resolve. Instead of commanding the room, too many leaders pleaded for pity.

President Bassirou Diomaye Faye of Senegal delivered a moral indictment of a failing world order, gripping, heartfelt, but more lamentation than a road map. “There can be no justice based on law when the international order is governed by double standards, the right of the mighty and a spirit of ‘us versus them,” he warned, later adding that “Gaza is no longer alive.” Urgency, yes; strategy, no.

President Félix-Antoine Tshisekedi of the Democratic Republic of the Congo offered a harrowing appeal, calling the violence in eastern DRC a “silent genocide” and imploring the UN to act. The phrase shocked, but again, it was an emergency call rather than a blueprint for regional security or African-led solutions. Desperation cannot substitute for diplomacy.

South Africa’s Cyril Ramaphosa, presiding over the G20, emphasised debt and structural inequality. “Many countries with developing economies, especially in Africa, do not have adequate capital to finance their development goals. They are indebted…” he said. But this refrain has echoed for decades. Reiterating the problem without a concrete African mechanism to marshal alternatives sounded like entreaty, not leadership. A G20 presidency should translate into bold structural proposals, not more appeals for sympathy.

President William Ruto was energetic and wide-ranging, from Gaza to Sudan to reforming international financial institutions. His words carried moral force: “We cannot condemn suffering in one place and turn a blind eye in another.” But rhetorical clarity without institutional muscle remains rhetoric. Where was the plan to rally African states into a negotiating bloc, or to use Kenya’s diplomatic weight to convene an African-led reform push?

The contrast with other leaders was striking. Volodymyr Zelensky turned his speech into strategy and alliance-building, not mere lament. He has consistently paired moral arguments with tangible questions and demonstrations of agency that rally concrete support. That is the playbook of soft power: Convert sympathy into commitments, frame problems as shared strategic interests rather than charity cases.

Western leaders, and others who occupy seats of leverage, structure their UN appearances around power: What they can offer, what they will commit, and the reciprocal expectations they place on others. Too many African speeches still sound like grant applications: Enumerate suffering, request debt relief, plead for funding, request parity. But parity is not granted by pleas, it is won through coalitions, narratives, and enforceable proposals.

Soft power, which is the ability to persuade, set agendas, and attract influence, is built by design. Africa’s leaders know the grievances: Unfair debt burdens, climate injustice, wars on the continent. But naming the problem is not the same as leading the solution. Where were the continent-wide proposals for pooled sovereign debt swaps tied to climate adaptation? The regional security compact with clear burden-sharing mechanisms? A unified African pitch for a reform package that pairs governance reforms with guaranteed green investment? These are the bold, deliverable ideas that turn moral authority into geopolitical currency.

Mr Ekuru is a Foreign Policy and Communications Specialist. paul.ekuru@gmail.com