In Senegal, religion extends beyond the private sphere, playing a crucial role in social cohesion, crisis mediation, education, and even political regulation. However, the interactions between the State and religious communities largely operate through informal practices. This raises a fundamental question: can the institutionalization of religious affairs eliminate clientelism without undermining the nation’s secular principles? The discussion may no longer be about *whether* to formalize state-religion relations, but *how* to achieve this without nationalizing religion itself.
First, it is important to dispel a common misconception: formalizing the relationship between the State and religious communities does not automatically mean making religion a state matter. Several African nations have already opted to establish public structures dedicated to religious affairs.
Mali, for instance, has a Ministry of Religious Affairs, Worship, and Customs, while Guinea operates a General Secretariat for Religious Affairs. Côte d’Ivoire also maintains a specific administration for religious matters. Morocco has taken this institutionalization even further through its Higher Council of Ulemas and the function of Amir Al-Mouminine.
Senegal itself has an emerging framework for institutionalization. The creation of the Directorate of Religious Affairs and the Integration of Arabic Language Graduates in April 2024 marked a significant initial step. Djim Dramé, the director, openly states that the objective is precisely to “formalize relations between the State and religions” and to foster peace, harmony, and coexistence. Consequently, the current debate revolves less around the appropriateness of having an administration for religious matters and more about the extent of institutionalization Senegal intends to pursue.
Islamologist Abdoul Aziz Kébé views the announced transformation of the Directorate of Religious Affairs into a General Delegation as a “positive evolution” and an “institutional elevation.” His argument is particularly compelling: “religion is a resource in our country,” especially for social cohesion and the adoption of public policies.
If religion already serves as a vital social, cultural, and even political resource for Senegal, why should its relationship with the State continue to be managed primarily through personal connections, courtesy visits, ad hoc delegations, and circumstantial arrangements? It is within this context that Ousmane Sonko’s proposal should be understood.
He advocates for a genuine institutionalization of state-religious relations, structured around several key proposals: the creation of a dedicated budget for worship, the elevation of the Delegation for Religious Affairs to a Secretary of State or a full ministry, official recognition of specific allowances granted to religious leaders, and the oversight of special funds by a sworn commission.
A ‘collaborative secularism’ between politics and religion
The underlying principle is clear: to move away from a system of discretionary favors towards established rights and predefined rules. When a religious leader receives an administrative concession due to proximity to the President, it is a favor. However, if the same concession is formalized by law, with clearly defined conditions applicable to all leaders meeting the same criteria, it becomes part of an institutional framework. Therefore, the State’s role should not be to control religious affairs, but to establish a structure that organizes its interactions with them.
Senegal is a secular state. This constitutional reality cannot be circumvented or diminished. The Constitution affirms that the Republic is secular, democratic, and social, ensuring equality among citizens without religious distinction and respecting all beliefs. Therefore, the institutionalization of worship cannot lead to any form of state religion.
However, the question is whether secularism prohibits the State from organizing its relations with religious bodies. Political science professor Maurice Soudieck Dione highlights that Senegalese secularism has a unique history. It does not perfectly align with the strict French model of separation. He describes it as a “collaborative secularism between the political and the religious.” Thus, the distinctiveness of the Senegalese model lies in its “pragmatic accommodation” with religious brotherhoods and the Church.
Nonetheless, the debate cannot be oversimplified to: “since religion holds a significant place in society, a Ministry of Worship must be created.” Seydou Ka, a journalist-columnist for Le Soleil, warns 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 could weaken the autonomy of religious leaders.
This observation is crucial, 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 who is legitimate, who can speak on behalf of a community, which activities should be authorized, how places of worship should operate, and which religious leaders can receive public recognition.
The fear of a ‘bureaucratization of the sacred’
The State’s desire to organize religions themselves poses an obvious risk and could fundamentally alter their nature. Researcher Bakary Sambe has perfectly summarized the danger of the political-religious relationship in Senegal. He observes that “our leaders seek in religion a legitimacy they lack in politics.” The danger 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 relationship between the State and religious authorities is personalized. A president maintains a unique relationship with a particular khalife. A minister is close to a certain religious family. A community more easily obtains certain investments due to its religious influence.
An event receives special support because it is a major religious gathering. The question then arises: is it better to leave these practices informal or subject them to public rules? In my view, it is better to institutionalize them. However, with an important clarification: we must not institutionalize faith itself; we must institutionalize the State’s relationship with religious practices.
This is also what Djim Dramé seems to advocate when he states that the Directorate of Religious Affairs aims to listen to “all religious sensibilities” and formalize relations between the State and religions. The National Council of Laity, led by its president Philippe Abraham Tine, has expressed support for this approach, viewing the Directorate as a potentially effective interface between the Church and the State, while emphasizing the need for clear communication about its role to prevent misunderstandings. This interfaith dimension is fundamental.
Senegal is a profoundly religious society, with a significant Muslim majority and historically and socially integrated Christian communities. 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 address institutionally?
A public policy for religious affairs
The State can support pilgrimages, contribute to the security of major religious events, back training initiatives, participate in the renovation of certain places of worship, or assist religious establishments, provided that rules are transparent and the same principles of equity are applied. Islamologist Abdoul Aziz Kébé specifically emphasizes the goal of supporting “Muslim, Christian, and traditional religious communities” in their worship and development. Ultimately, Ousmane Sonko’s proposal sparks a much broader debate than a simple administrative question.
It compels Senegal to reflect on 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 insists on the necessity of institutionalizing relations between public authorities and religious leaders. Maurice Soudieck Dione demonstrates a particular collaboration between the political and the religious spheres.
Experiences in Côte d’Ivoire, Mali, Guinea, Niger, and Burkina Faso each illustrate various ways to organize these relationships. Sonko, for his part, poses another question: why continue to manage through favors what could be organized by law? This is where the true merit of his proposal lies. Provided, however, that a fundamental error is avoided: institutionalizing worship must not mean nationalizing religion. The State must remain secular. Religions must retain their autonomy. And citizens must be free to practice their faith.
Thus, I would not necessarily advocate for a “Ministry of Religion,” which might suggest the State is managing spiritual affairs. Instead, I would champion a republican institution tasked with transparently and equitably organizing relations between the State and religious groups. Senegal cannot pretend that religion does not exist.
The question is no longer whether to institutionalize religious matters, but how to do so without losing the unique character of Senegalese secularism. In my view, the correct answer lies in one principle: do not institutionalize faith; institutionalize the relationship with faith. This is the only path that reconciles republican secularism, religious freedom, confessional equity, and the autonomy of religious communities.