Pope Leo XIV concluded his historic 11-day visit to Africa last week. We watched him arrive with fanfare in Algeria, moving to Cameroon, Angola and Equatorial Guinea.
Across the continent, the visit was widely welcomed as a sign of hope, a moment of spiritual encouragement, and a reminder that Africa still matters on the global stage.
But there is an uncomfortable side to this trip that deserves honest reflection.
Some of the countries on the Pope’s itinerary are ruled by dictators with long and troubling records of human rights abuses.
Visiting them could be seen as quietly legitimising their oppressive regimes, whether intended or not.
Take Cameroon for example, whose President Paul Biya has been in power since 1982, when Ronald Reagan was still in the White House and the Soviet Union still existed.
Forty-four years later, Biya remains firmly in office, longer than most Cameroonians have been alive.
This is not just longevity in politics but a reflection of a political system that has effectively shut down any meaningful chance of democratic renewal.
Biya’s rule has been marked by consistent allegations of manipulated elections, repression of opposition voices and the shrinking of political space.
Now 93 years old, Biya appears more committed to ruling until his last breath than to preparing the country for a democratic future.
Equatorial Guinea, the Pope’s final stop, presents an even darker picture.
President Teodoro Obiang Nguema Mbasogo has ruled for 47 years.
His time in power has been defined by manipulation of elections, authoritarianism, corruption and systematic human rights abuses.
A simple thing such as having a different preference for a leader to lead the country can land you in jail or get you mysteriously killed because there is no tolerance for genuine political contest in that country.
In such a political atmosphere, a visit from a global figure like the Pope can easily be read as a quiet endorsement of the status quo.
And dictators are experts at managing optics.
For them being seen shaking hands with the Pope, hosting him in grand ceremonies and taking pictures with him offers a powerful political legitimacy.
They ensure the streets are calm and clean, and the visit appears orderly and successful.
In doing so, they turn a spiritual moment into political capital for propaganda purposes.
Defenders of the Pope will argue that engagement is better than isolation.
They would say diplomacy sometimes requires sitting at uncomfortable tables.
Maybe the Pope had hoped to quietly nudge the dictators towards compassionate governance that takes care of the poor.
That argument has merit. But it is also dangerous because history shows that quiet diplomacy with dictators hardly produces meaningful change.
When moral leaders appear too comfortable with oppressive rulers, many ordinary citizens do not hear a message of justice, but of silence and indifference.
So, should the Pope have avoided these countries entirely?
Not necessarily. There is nothing inherently wrong with visiting them.
But how he shows up in politically fragile environments matters.
Instead of prioritising choreographed meetings with discredited rulers, the Pope could have centred his visit on the people themselves, the victims of repression, civil society activists, the poor and the marginalised.
The Catholic Church has done this before. Even during apartheid in SA, when parts of the church were complicit with the evil white regime, others chose a different path.
For the Pope to appear so close to dictators, even with good intentions he risked sending the wrong message, that maintaining political relationships matters more than standing for justice
Catholic leaders such as Father Smangaliso Mkhatshwa, Archbishop Buti Tlhagale and Archbishop Denis Hurley did not hide behind some vague moral language.
They confronted the unjust system directly, publicly condemning apartheid laws as immoral, defending those targeted by the state at real personal risk.
For the Pope to appear so close to dictators, even with good intentions he risked sending the wrong message, that maintaining political relationships matters more than standing for justice.
The pictures of his handshakes with despots, breaking bread with them, will be repackaged by those autocratic regimes as evidence of international recognition, even when the lived reality of their citizens tells a very different story.
The Pope has now left Africa, and it may be many years before he returns.
The trouble is, unless his visit resonates meaningfully with those living under oppression, it risks becoming a symbolic gesture.
My fear is the possibility that the Pope’s visit may have caused tangible damage to the struggle for justice and democracy in Africa, by lending moral cover to political demagogues and dictators who silence dissent, abuse the poor, entrench poverty and rule through fear.
Thami Dickson, media professional and commentator on African affairs.
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