Venance Konan explores the contradictions of modern panafricanism

The imminent ruling from South African courts regarding Kémi Séba’s fate—arrested in mid-April while attempting to illegally enter Zimbabwe—has sparked a debate on whether the digital panafricanist icon truly embodies today’s pan-African movement. With over 1.5 million social media followers, Séba’s arrest brings into sharp focus the evolution of panafricanism and its contemporary manifestations.

Who is Kémi Séba, and what does he represent?

Kémi Séba, whose real name is Stellio Gilles Robert Capo Chichi, holds dual citizenship—Bénin through birth and Niger via a diplomatic passport. His reputation as a vocal panafricanist and anti-French activist, along with his controversial stances against the West African CFA franc and antisemitic remarks, led to the revocation of his French nationality. Recently detained in South Africa alongside his 18-year-old son and François Van der Merwe—a South African white supremacist nostalgic for apartheid—questions arise about the true nature of Séba’s panafricanism.

Currently facing charges in Bénin for “apology for state security crimes and incitement to rebellion” after publicly supporting soldiers involved in a failed December coup, Séba also holds an international arrest warrant. His actions, including an alleged attempt to enter Zimbabwe via fraudulent means, suggest a complex and potentially contradictory ideological stance.

Panafricanism or proxy politics?

Kémi Séba, alongside figures like Franklin Nyamsi and Nathalie Yamb, represents some of the loudest voices of panafricanism in Francophone Africa. These activists are not only fiercely anti-French but also serve as prominent propagandists for Russia’s interests on the continent. Additionally, they openly support the military juntas of the Alliance of Sahel States (AES)—comprising Mali’s Assimi Goïta, Burkina Faso’s Ibrahim Traoré, and Niger’s Abdourahamane Tiani. Is this modern panafricanism, or a shift from opposing colonialism to embracing new forms of domination?

The roots and evolution of panafricanism

Originating in early 20th-century Black intellectual circles in the Americas and the Caribbean, panafricanism emerged as a unifying ideology for African emancipation and solidarity. It fueled the anti-colonial struggles across the continent, with leaders such as Kwame Nkrumah of Ghana, Sékou Touré of Guinea, and Patrice Lumumba of Congo becoming its most prominent advocates.

The Federation of Black African Students in France (FEANF), founded in 1950, played a pivotal role in mobilizing African students against colonialism. Despite facing severe repression—including reduced scholarships, increased rents, and police surveillance—their efforts contributed to the wave of independence that swept across Africa in 1960. The establishment of the Organisation of African Unity (OAU) in 1963 was seen as a significant step toward continental unity. However, post-independence realities led to fragmentation, with secessionist movements in regions like Biafra, Casamance, and Eritrea challenging the dream of a unified Africa.

Efforts to revive panafricanism continued, notably under Libya’s Mouammar Kadhafi, who pushed for the transformation of the OAU into the African Union (AU) in 2002. Yet, the AU’s progress has been limited, and initiatives like the New Partnership for Africa’s Development (NEPAD) have faded into obscurity. Today, the continent remains divided, with conflicts and tensions overshadowing the original vision of solidarity.

Panafricanism in name only

Today, panafricanism is often invoked as a rhetorical tool rather than a lived reality. Political leaders and intellectuals across Africa and the diaspora adopt the label to legitimize their agendas. For instance, former Ivorian President Laurent Gbagbo launched the African People’s Party of Côte d’Ivoire (PPA-CI), while Senegal’s ruling party, PASTEF, also identifies as panafricanist. Yet, these declarations rarely translate into tangible unity. Instead, African nations often engage in hostile actions against each other—whether through xenophobic policies in South Africa or diplomatic standoffs in West Africa between Sahelian juntas and ECOWAS member states.

The urgency of true panafricanism

If Kémi Séba, Franklin Nyamsi, and Nathalie Yamb are today’s leading panafricanist voices, their actions raise critical questions. How can panafricanism justify alignment with Russia, a nation accused of exploiting Africa’s resources and destabilizing its governments? How does it reconcile with support for authoritarian regimes that suppress freedoms and silence dissent?

Leaked communications suggest that Séba himself has accused Nyamsi and Yamb of opportunism, claiming they are now in the service of Faure Gnassingbé, Togo’s president. Ironically, Séba has also expressed regret over losing his French nationality, further complicating his anti-colonial narrative. This version of panafricanism appears tainted by opportunism, self-interest, and contradictions.

As global power dynamics shift and predatory interests threaten Africa’s sovereignty, the continent faces a stark choice: unite under a genuine panafrican vision or continue down a path of division and external manipulation. The survival of Africa may well depend on embracing a renewed, authentic, and unified panafricanism—one that transcends rhetoric and delivers real solidarity.