Togo, a small West African nation nestled between Ghana and Benin, boasts a rich and complex history that often goes unnoticed in global discourse. From ancient kingdoms to colonial exploitation, and from post-independence struggles to contemporary challenges, Togo’s past is deeply intertwined with today’s most pressing global issues—climate change, migration, economic inequality, and political instability.
This blog post delves into Togo’s historical journey, examining how its past continues to shape its present and offering insights into why this nation’s story matters in our interconnected world.
Long before European colonization, the region now known as Togo was home to thriving societies. The Ewe people, believed to have migrated from present-day Nigeria around the 11th century, established decentralized yet culturally cohesive communities. Meanwhile, the Mina (or Guin) people, known for their trade networks, played a crucial role in regional commerce.
These societies were not isolated—they engaged in trans-Saharan trade, exchanging gold, salt, and textiles with North African and Sahelian merchants. This early globalization laid the foundation for Togo’s later role in the Atlantic slave trade.
By the 16th century, European powers had turned West Africa into a hub for the transatlantic slave trade. Togo’s coastline, particularly the port of Petit Popo (now Aného), became a key departure point for enslaved Africans.
The impact was devastating: entire communities were uprooted, and local economies became dependent on European demand for human cargo. Today, the legacy of slavery still echoes in Togo’s social structures and in the African diaspora’s calls for reparations—a topic gaining traction in global human rights discussions.
In 1884, Germany declared Togoland a protectorate, marking the beginning of formal colonial rule. The Germans introduced cash crops like cocoa and coffee, built railways, and established administrative systems—but at a brutal cost. Forced labor, land seizures, and violent suppression of resistance were common.
Yet, Togoland was dubbed a "model colony" due to its profitability. This label obscured the suffering of Togolese people, much like modern corporations today greenwash exploitative practices in developing nations.
After Germany’s defeat in World War I, Togoland was split between Britain and France under League of Nations mandates. French Togoland faced harsh assimilation policies, with resources funneled to France while local voices were silenced.
The mid-20th century saw rising nationalist movements, led by figures like Sylvanus Olympio, who became Togo’s first president in 1960. However, independence did not mean freedom from foreign influence—a struggle many post-colonial nations still face today.
Togo’s early independence was short-lived. In 1963, Olympio was assassinated in a coup—the first of many in Africa’s post-colonial history. The military, led by Gnassingbé Eyadéma, seized power in 1967, ruling with an iron fist for nearly four decades.
Eyadéma’s regime was marked by repression, corruption, and Cold War-era geopolitics. Backed by Western powers due to his anti-communist stance, he maintained power while suppressing dissent—a pattern seen in other authoritarian regimes today.
When Eyadéma died in 2005, his son Faure Gnassingbé was installed via a controversial military intervention, sparking violent protests and international condemnation. Despite promises of reform, Togo remains under the Gnassingbé family’s grip, with elections often criticized as unfair.
This dynastic rule mirrors global concerns about democratic backsliding, from Nicaragua to Cambodia. Togo’s struggle for true democracy is a microcosm of a larger fight against autocracy.
Togo’s coastline is eroding at an alarming rate, displacing communities and threatening livelihoods. Deforestation and unsustainable farming practices exacerbate the crisis. Like many African nations, Togo contributes little to global emissions yet bears the brunt of climate change—a glaring example of climate injustice.
With limited economic opportunities, many young Togolese risk dangerous migrations to Europe. This mirrors broader trends in Africa, where unemployment and political repression drive mass exoduses. The EU’s border policies often criminalize these migrants, ignoring the root causes—colonial exploitation and unequal global trade.
Togo, like much of Africa, has become a battleground for geopolitical influence. China’s Belt and Road Initiative funds infrastructure projects, but critics warn of debt traps. Meanwhile, France and the U.S. vie for strategic control, turning Togo into a pawn in a new Cold War.
Togo’s story is not just its own—it reflects broader global injustices:
By understanding Togo’s past, we gain insights into today’s most urgent debates. The nation’s resilience—from surviving slavery to resisting dictatorship—offers lessons in perseverance and the ongoing fight for justice.
Togo’s history is a testament to both human cruelty and human endurance. As the world grapples with inequality, climate collapse, and authoritarianism, Togo’s struggles remind us that these issues are interconnected.
The next time we hear about migration crackdowns, corporate exploitation in Africa, or climate negotiations, we must remember places like Togo—not as distant tragedies, but as central players in shaping our shared future.
The question is no longer whether Togo’s history matters, but what we will do about it.