United States Africa Command

Based on Wikipedia: United States Africa Command

America's Strangest Military Command

Here's an odd fact about the United States military's command for Africa: it's headquartered in Germany.

The United States Africa Command, known by its acronym AFRICOM, runs American military operations across an entire continent of 53 nations—yet its command center sits in Stuttgart, thousands of miles from the closest African shore. This isn't a temporary arrangement. The Pentagon declared in 2008 that AFRICOM would stay in Germany for the "foreseeable future," and there it remains.

Why? Because almost no African country wants it.

A Command Nobody Asked For

The American military divides the world into geographic zones, each overseen by what's called a "unified combatant command." Think of these as the Pentagon's regional franchises—each responsible for military operations, partnerships, and strategic planning in their slice of the globe. For decades, Africa was the forgotten stepchild of this system, carved up among three different commands that had other priorities.

United States European Command handled West Africa as an afterthought to its main job of watching Russia. Central Command took the Horn of Africa—the strategic peninsula jutting into the Indian Ocean—because of its proximity to the Middle East. Pacific Command got the island nations off Africa's east coast, from Madagascar to Mauritius. It was a bureaucratic mess, and Africa got whatever attention was left over after these commands dealt with their primary concerns.

Then came September 11, 2001.

Suddenly, vast ungoverned spaces looked less like someone else's problem and more like incubators for the next terrorist attack. The Sahara Desert, the world's largest, became a strategic concern. The lawless coasts of Somalia attracted pirates and extremists. And the oil reserves of the Gulf of Guinea, increasingly important to American energy security, demanded protection.

The Birth of AFRICOM

A U.S. military officer first publicly proposed a dedicated African command in November 2000, before terrorism dominated American strategic thinking. The idea languished until a 2004 global posture review—basically, the Pentagon taking stock of where it had troops and why—revealed just how fragmented American military engagement with Africa had become.

The Defense Department began quietly establishing what it called "Cooperative Security Locations" and "Forward Operating Sites" across the continent. These aren't the sprawling bases Americans might picture from Germany or Japan. They're smaller, more flexible arrangements—places where American forces can refuel aircraft, stage operations, or train with local militaries without maintaining a permanent garrison.

The one exception was Camp Lemonnier in Djibouti, a tiny nation wedged between Ethiopia, Eritrea, and Somalia at the mouth of the Red Sea. This former French Foreign Legion base became America's only permanent military installation in Africa, hosting thousands of troops and serving as the hub for counterterrorism operations across East Africa.

In late 2006, Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld assembled a planning team to design a proper unified command for Africa. He made his recommendations to President George W. Bush in early December. By February 2007, the new Defense Secretary, Robert Gates, announced that the president had authorized AFRICOM's creation.

The Resistance

What happened next surprised Washington.

When news broke that African countries were competing to host AFRICOM's headquarters—the prize being jobs, construction contracts, and strategic importance—it seemed like the command would find an African home. Liberia expressed willingness. Ethiopia, a key American ally, signaled interest. An Air Force official even said Addis Ababa, Ethiopia's capital, was the likely choice.

Then the backlash hit.

Nigeria, Africa's most populous nation and a major oil producer, announced it would not host an American base and opposed any such base on the continent. South Africa, the continent's most developed economy and a regional power, expressed similar reservations. Libya, then still under Muammar Gaddafi, objected too.

The opposition wasn't just from governments. Dr. Wafula Okumu, a researcher at the Institute for Security Studies in South Africa, testified before the U.S. Congress about "growing resistance and hostility" across the continent. Many Africans saw AFRICOM not as a partnership but as a new form of colonialism—the old imperial powers replaced by a single superpower establishing military dominance over a continent that had spent decades throwing off foreign rule.

The irony was thick. The White House announced that Africa Command would "strengthen our security cooperation with Africa and create new opportunities to bolster the capabilities of our partners in Africa." It would promote "development, health, education, democracy, and economic growth." Noble goals, perhaps. But to many Africans, these sounded like the same justifications European colonizers had used a century earlier—the civilizing mission wrapped in military fatigues.

How AFRICOM Actually Works

So AFRICOM stayed in Stuttgart, operating from Kelley Barracks, a compact urban facility staffed by about 1,500 personnel. From there, it coordinates with military and civilian staff scattered across the globe: Camp Lemonnier in Djibouti, RAF Molesworth in the United Kingdom, MacDill Air Force Base in Florida, and security cooperation offices in roughly 38 African countries.

The command officially became operational on October 1, 2008, absorbing existing operations like the Combined Joint Task Force for the Horn of Africa, which had been running since 2002. Its annual headquarters budget runs around $276 million—a modest sum by Pentagon standards, though that figure doesn't include the cost of actual military operations.

What does AFRICOM actually do? The command's stated mission focuses on working alongside African military personnel to support their operations. In diplomatic terms, American ambassadors remain the primary representatives in each country. AFRICOM provides the military muscle behind American policy but isn't supposed to set that policy itself.

In practice, this means counterterrorism dominates the agenda.

The Alphabet Soup of African Extremism

Understanding AFRICOM requires understanding the groups it fights. These aren't household names to most Americans, but they've caused immense suffering across Africa.

Al-Shabaab, whose name means "The Youth" in Arabic, controls territory in Somalia and has carried out devastating attacks across East Africa. The group emerged from the chaos following Somalia's civil war and alignment with al-Qaeda, the terrorist network behind the September 11 attacks. Neutralizing al-Shabaab and transitioning security responsibilities to Somalia's government became one of AFRICOM's primary objectives.

In West Africa, Boko Haram—roughly translated as "Western education is forbidden"—terrorized Nigeria and neighboring countries. The group gained international notoriety in 2014 when it kidnapped 276 schoolgirls from Chibok, Nigeria, sparking the #BringBackOurGirls social media campaign. Containing and degrading Boko Haram became another AFRICOM priority.

Across the Sahel—the semi-arid belt stretching from Senegal to Sudan, separating the Sahara from the greener lands to the south—various violent extremist groups exploited weak governments and porous borders. The Trans-Saharan Counterterrorism Initiative, approved by Congress in 2007, provided $500 million over six years to help countries like Algeria, Chad, Mali, Mauritania, Niger, Senegal, Nigeria, and Morocco combat these threats.

Libya's 2011 collapse created new problems. After the U.S. and NATO helped rebels overthrow Muammar Gaddafi, the country fractured into competing fiefdoms, awash in weapons that flowed across Africa's borders. Containing instability in Libya became yet another AFRICOM concern.

The Drone Question

Perhaps nothing symbolizes AFRICOM's controversial nature more than drone strikes.

On March 18, 2019, AFRICOM conducted an airstrike over Mogadishu, Somalia's capital, targeting al-Shabaab. The command reported killing three terrorists. But both the body count and whether any civilians died remain disputed. This pattern—American claims of precision strikes, followed by conflicting reports of civilian casualties—has repeated across Africa.

The strikes operate in a legal gray zone. The 2001 Authorization for Use of Military Force, passed days after September 11 to pursue those responsible for the attacks, has been stretched to cover operations against groups that didn't exist when it was written, in countries that had nothing to do with the original attacks. Critics argue this represents executive overreach; defenders say the terrorist threat has evolved and the authorization must evolve with it.

For communities on the receiving end, legal debates matter less than lived experience. A drone strike that kills a family member—whether or not that person was actually a combatant—creates grievances that extremist recruiters exploit. AFRICOM insists its strikes are precise and lawful. But precision is relative when you're the one burying the dead.

The China Factor

AFRICOM's creation wasn't only about terrorism. Writing in 2007, analyst Letitia Lawson identified three forces shaping American policy toward Africa: international terrorism, the increasing importance of African oil, and—notably—"the dramatic expansion and improvement of Sino-African relations since 2000."

China has invested billions across Africa, building roads, ports, railways, and power plants. Chinese companies extract African resources. Chinese loans finance African governments. This economic engagement has military implications. In 2017, China opened its first overseas military base—in Djibouti, just miles from Camp Lemonnier.

America and China now maintain military installations within eyeshot of each other in a nation smaller than New Jersey. The symbolism is hard to miss.

Beyond Counterterrorism

AFRICOM's mission extends beyond killing terrorists. The command identifies five "lines of effort" that guide its work.

First, addressing al-Shabaab and helping Somalia's government take over security from the African Union Mission in Somalia. This peacekeeping force, known as AMISOM, has shouldered much of the fighting against al-Shabaab, but African countries providing troops grow tired of bearing the costs.

Second, degrading violent extremist organizations in the Sahel and Maghreb—North Africa's Mediterranean coast—while containing Libyan instability.

Third, the ongoing effort against Boko Haram.

Fourth, interdicting illicit activity in the Gulf of Guinea and Central Africa. This means combating piracy, illegal fishing, and trafficking in drugs, weapons, and people—problems that destabilize entire regions.

Fifth, building African capacity for peacekeeping, humanitarian assistance, and disaster response. This reflects a theory that African problems should have African solutions, with American support rather than American troops doing the fighting.

General Carter Ham, commanding AFRICOM in 2012, framed American strategy as strengthening democratic institutions and boosting broad-based economic growth. It's an appealing vision: security enabling development, development reducing the desperation that feeds extremism, a virtuous cycle lifting the continent.

Reality proves messier.

The Information Wars

AFRICOM's predecessor, European Command, launched a website called Magharebia in 2004 to provide news about North Africa in English, French, and Arabic. When AFRICOM took over, it inherited this information operation.

The site presented itself as journalism but served American strategic messaging. This blending of news and propaganda troubled many observers. The Senate Armed Services Committee criticized such information operations, and Congress defunded them in 2011. Magharebia shut down in February 2015.

The episode illustrates a tension running through AFRICOM's existence. Is the command a partner, helping Africans achieve their own security goals? Or is it an instrument of American power, pursuing American interests with an African veneer? The answer is probably both, which satisfies neither critics nor defenders.

The View from Africa

African perspectives on AFRICOM vary enormously across a continent of 54 countries, over a billion people, and thousands of ethnic groups and languages.

Some governments welcome American engagement. Djibouti earns substantial rent from Camp Lemonnier. Countries facing insurgencies accept American training, equipment, and intelligence. Politicians who align with Washington gain a powerful patron.

Others remain suspicious. The memory of colonialism runs deep—most African nations gained independence only in the 1960s, within living memory. American interventions elsewhere, from Vietnam to Iraq, don't inspire confidence. And the sight of foreign troops, even helpful ones, touches nerves that outsiders often fail to understand.

Civil society groups raise different concerns. They worry that American security assistance strengthens militaries that then threaten democratic governance. They point to human rights abuses by American-trained forces. They question whether counterterrorism frameworks address root causes or merely treat symptoms while creating new grievances.

In 2021, Nigeria expressed interest in hosting AFRICOM—a reversal from its earlier opposition. Whether this reflects changed circumstances, a new government's different priorities, or simply the appeal of American dollars remains debated. But the fact that Africa's largest country reconsidered its position suggests the conversation continues to evolve.

The Egypt Exception

One notable absence from AFRICOM's map: Egypt.

Despite being geographically African—Cairo sits on the Nile, the pyramids rise from African soil—Egypt remains under Central Command's responsibility. The logic is strategic rather than geographic. Egypt's 1979 peace treaty with Israel, its control of the Suez Canal, and its role in Middle Eastern politics tie it more closely to that region than to sub-Saharan Africa.

This carve-out reveals how the Pentagon thinks about the world. Geography matters less than relationships. Egypt's military receives billions in American aid, much of it tied to maintaining peace with Israel. Shifting Egypt to AFRICOM would complicate these arrangements. So Africa's most populous Arab country remains, for military purposes, part of the Middle East.

Looking Forward

AFRICOM enters its second decade facing evolving challenges. The terrorist groups it was created to fight have proven resilient. New threats emerge as old ones are contained. Climate change stresses already fragile states. And great-power competition—with China, primarily, but also Russia—adds new dimensions to African security.

The command's current leader, General Dagvin Anderson, oversees this sprawling portfolio from Stuttgart. His predecessors have included General William "Kip" Ward, who stood up the command and was later demoted for spending violations, and General Carter Ham, who commanded during the 2012 Benghazi attacks that killed four Americans including Ambassador Christopher Stevens.

Whether AFRICOM achieves its lofty goals—promoting peace, stability, development, democracy, and economic growth—remains an open question. The command has conducted countless training exercises, supported numerous African militaries, and killed many terrorists. But terrorism persists. Instability continues. And many Africans remain skeptical of American intentions.

Perhaps the most telling fact remains where it started: the headquarters stays in Germany because too much of Africa would rather it stayed away. For a command meant to strengthen partnerships, that's a humbling truth to work around.

AFRICOM represents something genuinely new—the first unified combatant command created specifically for Africa, treating the continent as strategically important in its own right rather than as leftovers from other commands' plates. Whether that attention proves beneficial or harmful, welcome or resented, effective or futile, depends on whom you ask and where they stand.

What's certain is that American military engagement with Africa isn't going away. The debates will continue over tactics and strategy, over drones and partnerships, over who benefits and who pays the costs. AFRICOM will remain at the center of those debates, coordinating from Stuttgart while the continent it's named for remains ambivalent about its presence.