In Senegal, religion transcends the private sphere, actively contributing to social cohesion, crisis mediation, education, and even political regulation. However, the interactions between the State and religious communities largely rely on informal practices. This raises a crucial question: can the institutionalization of worship in Senegal provide a pathway out of clientelism without undermining the nation’s secular principles? The debate may no longer be about *whether* to formalize these state-religious relations, but rather *how* to achieve it without institutionalizing religion itself.

First, a common misconception must be addressed: institutionalizing the relationship between the State and religious communities does not inherently mean transforming religion into a state affair. Several African nations have already opted to establish public structures dedicated to religious matters.

Mali, for instance, operates a Ministry of Religious Affairs, Worship, and Customs, while Guinea has a General Secretariat for Religious Affairs. Côte d’Ivoire maintains a specific administration tasked with overseeing places of worship. Morocco has taken this institutionalization much further through its Supreme Council of Ulemas and the esteemed role of Amir Al-Mouminine.

Senegal, too, has taken nascent steps toward institutionalization. The establishment of the Directorate of Religious Affairs and Integration of Arabic Language Graduates in April 2024 marked a significant initial move. Its director, Djim Dramé, openly states that the objective is precisely to “formalize the relations between the State and religions” and to foster peace, harmony, and coexistence. Consequently, the contemporary discussion revolves less around the expediency of having an administration for religious matters and more about the extent of institutionalization Senegal intends to adopt.

Islamologist Abdoul Aziz Kébé views the anticipated 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 concerning social cohesion and the adoption of public policies.

Given that religion already serves as a vital social, cultural, and even political resource for Senegal, why persist in managing its relationship with the State primarily through personal connections, courtesy visits, ad-hoc delegations, and circumstantial arrangements? It is within this context that Ousmane Sonko’s proposition gains clarity.

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 into a State Secretariat or a full-fledged ministry, official recognition of specific accommodations granted to religious leaders, and the oversight of special funds by an independent commission of sworn individuals.

A collaborative secularism: bridging politics and faith

The underlying principle is straightforward: to transition from a system of discretionary favors to one governed by established rights and clear, pre-defined rules. When a religious leader receives administrative assistance due to proximity to the President, it constitutes a favor. However, if the same assistance is codified by a legal text, with transparent conditions applicable to all leaders meeting the same criteria, it then falls within an institutional framework. The State’s function should therefore not be to control religious practice, but rather to establish a framework that organizes its interactions with it.

Senegal stands as a secular state. This constitutional reality cannot be sidestepped or diminished. The Constitution unequivocally declares the Republic to be secular, democratic, and social, ensuring equality for all citizens irrespective of religion and respecting all beliefs. Therefore, the institutionalization of worship cannot lead to any form of state religion.

Yet, the question remains whether secularism prohibits the State from organizing its relations with religious entities. Political science professor Maurice Soudieck Dione aptly demonstrates that Senegalese secularism possesses a distinctive history. It does not precisely align with the French model of strict separation. He characterizes it as a “collaborative secularism between the political and the religious.” Thus, the uniqueness of the Senegalese model lies in its operation through a “pragmatic accommodation” with confraternities and the Church.

However, the discussion 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 newspaper, cautions against the risk of transforming secularism into a form of administrative control over religious affairs. He voices concerns about the potential for a “bureaucratization of the sacred” and a drift towards a “laicism” that could erode 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 who is legitimate, who can speak on behalf of a community, which activities should be authorized, how places of worship ought to function, and which religious leaders qualify for public recognition.

The concern over sacred bureaucratization

The State’s ambition to organize religions themselves presents an evident risk and could fundamentally alter their nature. Researcher Bakary Sambe has perfectly articulated the peril inherent in the interplay between politics and religion in Senegal. He observes that “our leaders seek in religion a legitimacy they lack in politics.” The danger of institutionalization, he argues, would be to transform an already clientelistic relationship into a bureaucratized form of clientelism. Instead of politicians sporadically seeking religious blessings, permanent mechanisms for the distribution of public resources could emerge.

It is precisely because these risks exist that institutionalization appears necessary. Currently, a substantial portion of the interactions between the State and religious authorities is highly personalized. A president cultivates a specific relationship with a particular khalife. A minister maintains close ties with a certain religious family. A local community might more readily secure investments due to its religious prominence.

A major religious event receives special support because of its significance. The question then arises: is it preferable to leave these practices informal, or to subject them to public regulations? In my view, institutionalizing them is the better path. However, with a crucial caveat: we must not institutionalize faith itself; rather, we must institutionalize the State’s relationship with religious phenomena.

This perspective aligns with Djim Dramé’s assertion that the Directorate of Religious Affairs aims to engage with “all religious sensibilities” and formalize the State’s interactions with various faiths. The National Council of Laity, moreover, has expressed support for this approach, viewing the Directorate as a potentially effective interface between the Church and the State. Its president, Philippe Abraham Tine, nonetheless emphasized the need for clear communication regarding the structure’s role to prevent misunderstandings. This interfaith dimension is paramount.

Senegal is a profoundly religious society. Muslims constitute a vast majority, while Christian communities boast a significant historical and social presence. This socio-historical reality demands an institutional response. If the State supports citizens in education, healthcare, culture, or sports, why should it regard religious matters as a reality it can never institutionally address?

Crafting public policy for religious affairs

The State can offer support for pilgrimages, contribute to the security of major religious events, back religious training initiatives, participate in the renovation of certain places of worship, or assist religious establishments, provided these interventions are governed by transparent rules and applied with consistent principles of equity. 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 initiates a debate far more expansive than a mere administrative question.

It compels Senegal to critically examine its unique model of secularism. Seydou Ka reminds us of the risk of the bureaucratization of 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 demonstrates a particular collaboration between the political and the religious spheres.

The experiences of Côte d’Ivoire, Mali, Guinea, Niger, and Burkina Faso each illustrate distinct approaches to organizing these state-religious interactions. Sonko, however, poses a different question: why continue to manage through favors what could be organized by law? This is where the true merit of his proposal lies. Provided, of course, 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 impediment.

Thus, I would not necessarily advocate for a “Ministry of Religion,” which might suggest the State becoming a manager of spiritual affairs. Instead, I would champion a republican institution tasked with organizing, transparently and equitably, the relations between the State and various religious communities. For Senegal cannot simply 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 character of Senegalese secularism. And in my opinion, the right answer lies in a simple formula: do not institutionalize faith. Institutionalize the relations with faith. This is the only path that can reconcile republican secularism, religious freedom, confessional equity, and the autonomy of religious communities in Senegal.