The relevance of formalizing religious practice
In Senegal, religion transcends the private sphere, actively contributing to social cohesion, conflict resolution, education, and at times, political governance. Yet, the interaction between the state and religious communities largely operates through informal channels. This raises a pressing question: can the institutionalization of religious practice mitigate clientelism without undermining secular principles? The core debate may no longer be whether to formalize state-religion relations, but rather how to achieve this without institutionalizing religion itself.
First, a common misconception must be addressed: formalizing the relationship between the state and religious communities does not automatically imply making religion a state affair. Several African nations have already opted to establish public bodies dedicated to religious matters.
For instance, Mali operates a Ministry of Religious Affairs, Worship, and Customs, while Guinea has a General Secretariat for Religious Affairs. Côte d’Ivoire maintains a specialized administration for religious practices. Morocco has taken this institutionalization much further, notably through its Higher Council of Ulemas and the function of Amir Al-Mouminine (Commander of the Faithful).
Senegal, too, possesses the beginnings of such institutionalization. The establishment of the Directorate for Religious Affairs and the Integration of Arabic Language Graduates in April 2024 marked a significant initial step. Its director, Djim Dramé, openly states that the objective is precisely to “formalize relations between the state and religions” and to foster peace, harmony, and coexistence. Consequently, the contemporary discussion revolves less around the merits of having an administration for religious matters and more around the extent of institutionalization Senegal wishes to implement.
Islamologist Abdoul Aziz Kébé views the proposed elevation of the Directorate for Religious Affairs into a General Delegation as a “positive evolution” and an “institutional upgrade.” His argument is compelling: “religion is a resource in our country,” particularly in promoting social cohesion and the adoption of public policies.
If religion already serves as a vital social, cultural, and even political asset for Senegal, why persist in managing its relationship with the state primarily through personal connections, courtesy visits, ad hoc delegations, and situational arrangements? It is within this context that Ousmane Sonko’s proposition should be understood.
Sonko advocates for a genuine institutionalization of state-religious community relations, structured around several key proposals: the creation of a dedicated budget for religious affairs, the transformation of the Religious Affairs Delegation into a Secretary of State or a full-fledged ministry, official recognition of certain privileges granted to religious leaders, and the oversight of special funds by an sworn commission.
A secularism of political and religious collaboration
The underlying principle is clear: to transition from a system of discretionary favors to one governed by predefined rights and regulations. When a religious leader obtains an administrative advantage due to proximity to the President, it constitutes a favor. However, if the same advantage is formalized by legislation, with clearly defined conditions applicable to all leaders meeting identical criteria, an institutional framework emerges. Therefore, the state’s function should not be to control religious practice, but to establish a structure that organizes its interactions with it.
Senegal is a secular state. This constitutional reality cannot be circumvented or diminished. The Constitution affirms the Republic as secular, democratic, and social, ensuring citizen equality regardless of religion and respecting all beliefs. Consequently, the institutionalization of religious affairs cannot lead to any form of state religion.
However, the question remains whether secularism prohibits the state from organizing its relations with religious bodies. Political science professor Maurice Soudieck Dione aptly illustrates that Senegalese secularism has a unique history. It does not strictly conform to the French model of strict separation. He describes it as a “collaboration-based secularism between the political and the religious.” Thus, the distinctiveness of the Senegalese model lies in its operation through “pragmatic accommodation” with confraternities and the Church.
Nevertheless, the debate cannot be oversimplified to: “since religion holds significant sway in society, a Ministry of Worship must be created.” Seydou Ka, a journalist and columnist for Le Soleil, cautions against the risk of transforming secularism into a form of administrative control over religious matters. He expresses concern about a “bureaucratization of the sacred” and a drift towards a “laicism” that would diminish the autonomy of religious leaders.
This observation is fundamental, as there is a clear distinction between institutionalizing relations with religions and institutionalizing religions themselves. In the former case, the state establishes an administrative interlocutor. In the latter, it gradually begins to define legitimacy, who can speak for a community, which activities are permissible, how places of worship should operate, and which religious leaders qualify for public recognition.
The apprehension of “bureaucratization of the sacred”
The state’s desire to organize religions themselves presents a clear risk, potentially altering their fundamental nature. Researcher Bakary Sambe has perfectly articulated the danger inherent in the political-religious dynamic in Senegal. He observes that “our leaders seek in religion a legitimacy they lack in politics.” The peril of institutionalization would be precisely to transform an already clientelistic relationship into a bureaucratized form of clientelism. Instead of politicians sporadically seeking religious blessings, permanent mechanisms for distributing public resources could emerge.
It is precisely because these risks exist that institutionalization appears necessary. Currently, a significant portion of the interactions between the state and religious authorities are personalized. A president cultivates a specific relationship with a particular khalife. A minister maintains close ties with a certain religious family. A community might more easily secure certain investments due to its religious influence.
A major religious event receives special support. Therefore, the question arises: is it better to leave these practices informal or subject them to public regulations? In my view, institutionalizing them is preferable. However, with an important caveat: we must not institutionalize faith; we must institutionalize the state’s relationship with religious matters.
This also aligns with Djim Dramé’s stance when he asserts that the Directorate for Religious Affairs aims to listen to “all religious sensitivities” and formalize state-religion relations. The National Council of Laity has, moreover, expressed support for this approach, viewing the Directorate as a potential effective interface between the Church and the State. Its president, Philippe Abraham Tine, emphasized the need for clear communication regarding the structure’s role to prevent misunderstandings. This interfaith dimension is crucial.
Senegal is a profoundly religious society. Muslims constitute a vast majority, while Christian communities possess a significant historical and social presence. This socio-historical reality warrants an institutional response. If the state supports citizens in education, health, culture, or sports, why should it consider religious matters as a reality it can never institutionally acknowledge?
A public policy for religious matters
The state can support pilgrimages, contribute to the security of major religious events, back religious training, participate in the renovation of certain places of worship, or assist religious institutions, provided that the rules are transparent and the same principles of equity are applied. Islamologist Abdoul Aziz Kébé specifically highlights the objective of supporting “Muslim, Christian, and traditional religious communities” in their worship and development. Fundamentally, Ousmane Sonko’s proposal opens a debate far more significant than a mere administrative question.
It compels Senegal to critically examine its unique model of secularism. Seydou Ka reminds us of the risk of bureaucratizing the sacred. Étienne Smith invites us to consider “proportional equidistance.” Seydi Diamil Niane emphasizes the necessity of institutionalizing relations between public authorities and religious leaders. Maurice Soudieck Dione illustrates a particular collaboration between the political and the religious spheres.
The experiences of Côte d’Ivoire, Mali, Guinea, Niger, and Burkina Faso each demonstrate various approaches to organizing these relationships. Sonko, however, poses another question: why continue to manage through favors what could be organized by law? This is where the true value of his proposition lies. Provided, however, that a fundamental error is avoided: institutionalizing worship must not equate to nationalizing religion. The state must remain secular. Religions must retain their autonomy. And citizens must be free to practice their faith without interference.
Thus, I would not necessarily advocate for a “Ministry of Religion,” which might convey the impression that the state is managing spiritual matters. Instead, I would champion a republican institution tasked with transparently and equitably organizing the relations between the state and religious practices. For Senegal cannot pretend that religion does not exist.
The question, therefore, is no longer whether to institutionalize religious matters, but how to do so without losing the unique essence of Senegalese secularism. And in my opinion, the correct answer lies in one principle: do not institutionalize faith. Institutionalize the relations with faith. This is the only path that can reconcile republican secularism, religious freedom, interfaith equity, and the autonomy of religious communities.