Togo, a small West African nation nestled between Ghana and Benin, is often overlooked in global discussions. Yet, its history is a microcosm of Africa’s broader struggles and triumphs—colonial exploitation, post-independence turbulence, and the resilience of its people. In an era where climate change, migration, and geopolitical shifts dominate headlines, Togo’s past offers lessons for the present.
This blog explores Togo’s layered history, from pre-colonial kingdoms to modern-day challenges, and how these narratives intersect with today’s most pressing issues.
Long before European colonization, Togo was home to thriving societies. The Ewe people, who migrated from present-day Nigeria around the 11th century, established decentralized but culturally cohesive communities. The Mina Kingdom, centered around the coastal town of Aného, became a hub for trade, connecting inland Africa with European merchants.
These societies were not isolated; they participated in trans-Saharan and Atlantic trade networks, exchanging gold, salt, and—tragically—enslaved people. The legacy of these trade routes still shapes Togo’s ethnic and cultural diversity today.
Togo’s coastline, part of the "Slave Coast," witnessed some of the darkest chapters of human history. European powers, including the Portuguese and Danes, built forts to facilitate the trafficking of enslaved Africans. The remnants of these forts, like the one in Aného, stand as somber reminders of this era.
Today, as debates about reparations and racial justice gain momentum globally, Togo’s role in the slave trade underscores the need for historical reckoning. The African Union’s recent push for reparations from former colonial powers echoes these unresolved grievances.
In 1884, Germany declared Togoland a protectorate, branding it a "model colony" due to its profitable plantations and infrastructure projects. But this label masked brutal exploitation. Forced labor, land seizures, and cultural suppression were rampant. The construction of railways and roads came at a high human cost.
Togolese resistance, led by figures like Chief Mlapa III of the Ewe, was met with violence. Yet, these early anti-colonial movements laid the groundwork for future struggles.
Germany’s defeat in World War I led to Togoland’s partition between Britain and France under League of Nations mandates. British-administered western Togo later joined Ghana, while French Togo became today’s Togo. This arbitrary division split ethnic groups like the Ewe, fueling tensions that persist in border disputes and identity politics.
The scars of colonialism are visible in Togo’s infrastructure, education system, and even its language (French remains the official tongue). As former colonies worldwide demand restitution—from stolen artifacts to ecological reparations—Togo’s experience is a case study in colonial legacy.
Togo gained independence in 1960 under President Sylvanus Olympio, a U.S.-educated leader who envisioned a neutral, prosperous Togo. But his assassination in 1963—the first post-colonial coup in Africa—marked the beginning of decades of instability. The coup, backed by France and involving Gnassingbé Eyadéma (a former French army sergeant), set a dangerous precedent for military interference in African politics.
Gnassingbé Eyadéma seized power in 1967, ruling with an iron fist until his death in 2005. His regime, supported by Cold War geopolitics (first by France, later by the U.S. as a counter to Soviet influence), was marked by repression, corruption, and economic stagnation.
Yet, Togolese resistance never died. The 1990s saw mass protests for democracy, brutally suppressed but pivotal in forcing Eyadéma to allow multiparty elections—though these were often marred by fraud.
Eyadéma’s son, Faure Gnassingbé, inherited power in 2005 amid violent protests. While he has introduced modest reforms, Togo remains an authoritarian state under international scrutiny. Recent elections, boycotted by opposition groups, highlight the enduring struggle for democracy—a struggle mirrored in places like Sudan, Guinea, and Mali.
Togo’s coastline is vanishing. Rising sea levels and unchecked construction have eroded beaches, displacing communities and threatening livelihoods. In Aného, once a bustling port, homes and cemeteries are being swallowed by the ocean.
This crisis is not unique to Togo. Across West Africa, climate refugees are becoming a grim reality. Yet, Togo’s response—such as mangrove restoration projects—offers hope and a model for grassroots climate adaptation.
Unemployment and political repression drive many Togolese to migrate. Some brave the Sahara and Mediterranean; others join the growing diaspora in Europe and North America. Remittances now outstrip foreign aid, underscoring migration’s economic role.
But this exodus comes at a cost. Brain drain deprives Togo of skilled workers, while migrant deaths—like those in the 2023 Tunisia-Libya shipwreck—highlight the human toll of global inequality.
China, Russia, and the West are vying for influence in Africa, and Togo is no exception. Chinese investments in infrastructure (like the Lomé Container Terminal) come with debt risks. Meanwhile, Russia’s Wagner Group has courted Togo’s government, raising fears of destabilization.
For Togo, navigating these rivalries is a delicate act. The question is whether it can leverage foreign interest for development—or repeat the mistakes of the colonial era.
Togo’s history is a tapestry of resilience and exploitation, its present a reflection of global inequities. From colonial borders to climate injustice, its struggles are not isolated but intertwined with worldwide crises.
As we grapple with reparations, authoritarianism, and climate action, Togo reminds us that the past is never truly past. Its story is a call to acknowledge history’s wounds—and to work toward a fairer future.
Further Reading:
- "Togo: From Slave Coast to Independence" by Samuel Decalo
- "The Scramble for Africa" by Thomas Pakenham (for colonial context)
- Documentaries: "The Silent Coast" (on climate change in West Africa)
[Blogger’s Note: This piece was inspired by conversations with Togolese activists and historians. Corrections or additions? Email me!]