The Absentees of Abidjan: What Their Silence Says About Africa’s Future

By Milton Oluoch

On May 13, 2025, Africa expected a moment of clarity. At the Africa CEO Forum in Abidjan, five contenders vying for the presidency of the African Development Bank (AfDB) were slated to meet in a public debate. It was to be a moment of visibility, transparency, and intellectual accountability, on African soil, before an African audience. With more than 2,800 public and private sector leaders in attendance, the symbolism couldn’t be stronger. The stakes couldn’t be higher.

But instead of a contest of vision, Africa got silence.
Three of the five candidates—Swazi Tshabalala of South Africa, Samuel Maimbo of Zambia, and Mahamat Abbas Tolli of Chad, declined to participate. Only Mauritania’s Sidi Ould Tah and Senegal’s Amadou Hott were willing to stand and speak before the continent. The others, though present at the Forum and active in side events, chose to sidestep the one moment that demanded open engagement, not orchestration. The reasons offered? Language discomfort. Scheduling issues. Concerns about fairness. All plausible. None persuasive.

Especially when, just days earlier, some of these same candidates sat, confident and composed, at a debate hosted by Brookings in Washington, D.C., A forum far from Africa. And even further from the voters they hope to lead.

So we must ask: what does this pattern of selective visibility really reveal? Is Africa good enough to govern but not serious enough to engage? Are African forums merely a courtesy stop, while the real courtship plays out in the salons of foreign policy institutes? Is the AfDB presidency a mandate from Africa, or a performance for others?

These are not rhetorical questions. They speak to a deeper crisis of representation, and to a failure, by some, to grasp the moment they are campaigning to inherit.

The AfDB is not merely another multilateral institution. In this fractured world order, it is Africa’s most powerful financial voice, its development signal amid global noise. The next president will shape how the continent navigates $1.8 trillion in public debt, green industrialization, infrastructure finance, trade disruption, and the continent’s demographic surge. This role demands more than strategy. It demands moral clarity.

And clarity was missing in Abidjan.
The irony is stark. Tshabalala, until recently the Bank’s First Vice-President, and Maimbo, a senior World Bank official, are no strangers to high-level discourse. They understand both the magnitude of the role and the symbolism of the setting. Tolli, Chad’s central bank governor, didn’t even attend.

Their absence felt less like hesitation and more like calculation.
Theirs are candidacies that have often leaned on the language of efficiency, technocratic reform, and institutional experience. But a vision that cannot be defended before African stakeholders cannot be entrusted with African transformation. The AfDB is not short on policies—it is short on proximity, trust, and courage.

Consider this: during the Africa CEO Forum, when asked about the United States’ stance on critical African minerals, Samuel Maimbo deflected with a joke: “You’re trying to get me into trouble with a major shareholder!” It earned a laugh. But it revealed a quiet truth: that some candidacies are more rehearsed for Washington than ready for Bamako, Lusaka, or Kinshasa.

And what of the language excuse?

Africa is a continent of linguistic multiplicity. Our leaders regularly work across French, English, Arabic, Portuguese, Swahili, Hausa, and more. Translation is not a barrier—it is a bridge. The AfDB itself is fully bilingual. To cite language as a reason to retreat from dialogue is not only a failure of preparation—it is a failure of imagination. If a candidate cannot navigate linguistic diversity at a continental forum, how will they steward multilateral coherence in a turbulent global system?

But perhaps the most troubling signal was this: by choosing to speak abroad but not here, these candidates showed us which audiences matter most to them. And in doing so, they reinforced the very perception Africa has spent decades trying to dismantle—that our platforms are secondary, our scrutiny less exacting, our presence optional.

It was not just an insult to Abidjan. It was a red flag for the institution.

And it raises real questions about the agenda they bring. Can they triple AfDB lending without compromising the Bank’s AAA rating? Will they push for bold SDR rechannelling and capital reforms? Can they mobilize South-South finance, or are they overly dependent on G7 alignment? Will they empower African professionals within the Bank’s system—or default to external consultants with more passport power than local knowledge?

These are not questions for white papers. These are questions for the people. What Abidjan offered, what they declined, was not just a platform. It was a test. A test of vision. Of credibility. Of who sees Africa not just as a backdrop, but as the real audience of consequence.

And not all passed; The next president of the AfDB must be ready to speak to Africans before they speak for them. They must carry not just financial expertise, but political courage. They must place Africa not just at the center of development, but at the center of imagination, voice, and visibility.

Until then, we will continue to see candidates who campaign in translation—and lead from elsewhere.

Africa deserves better. And this time, it should not be quiet about it.