The pardoning of Hunter Biden raises discomforting parallels as President Biden lands in Angola.
President Biden's sweeping pardon of his son, Hunter Biden, has generated plenty of debate. But the proximity of his decision with his visit to Angola has been largely overlooked. This is a mistake. Angolans know a great deal about the politicization of the judiciary and how the fight against corruption can be weaponized. Few societies are as deeply familiar with the corrosive consequences of powerful families operating by a different set of rules than the rest of the population. The timing of Biden's decision further complicates an already complicated visit.
Biden's visit aims to demonstrate the seriousness of the U.S. commitment to African partners and show that the United States is paying attention to the priorities and needs of African states. The President will be touting the Lobito Corridor project, an ambitious rehabilitation and expansion of a railway to link the Democratic Republic of Congo, Zambia, and Angola that should improve the efficiency of supply chains and create viable opportunities for value addition. The administration is right to champion this effort, which responds to the vast, longstanding need for reliable, transparent financing for infrastructure and resulting job-creation opportunities.
But alongside jobs, African populations also want cleaner, more accountable government. They are quick to draw the link between self-serving leaders and shoddy public service delivery. In Angola, where President José Eduardo dos Santos held power for nearly forty years before being succeeded by current President João Lourenço. The dos Santos family held plum jobs and amassed staggering wealth, creating a pool of resentment that Lourenço tapped early in his tenure. Many Angolans were thrilled to see the former president's children called to account. But over time, it became clear that Lourenço's anti-corruption efforts were quite selective, and that the ruling party elite continue to use their positions and access to the national coffers to enrich themselves. That clarity is part of what propels protests in the streets of Luanda. If selective accountability is just a tool for consolidating power, it does little to give citizens faith in the system.
To be sure, Hunter Biden is no Isabel or Zenu dos Santos. He did not raid the U.S. Treasury. The U.S. and Angolan justice systems are far from equivalent. But it is not hard to see how Angolans, sensitive to scenarios in which the children of the powerful are protected in ways that everyday citizens are not, and to the idea the laws may be enforced selectively to damage political rivals, might see something uncomfortably familiar in the latest news. In the best of all possible worlds, the latest developments would open up a conversation between Angolans and Americans about politicized prosecutions, how to avoid sowing cynicism about combatting corruption, and how to build trust in a fair and impartial judiciary. The American and Angolan officials involved in the Biden visit are not likely to welcome that dialogue. Their citizens might feel differently.