03/21/2026
Africa Must Not Remain a Silent Casualty of Global Wars:
I am concerned about the war in the Middle East—not only as an American, but as an African.
History has taught us a painful lesson: Africa often pays the price for conflicts it did not start. During World War II, countless Africans died, not in defense of their own nations, but in service of colonial masters. They fought чужие wars, bled for чужие interests, and returned to a continent still shackled by exploitation.
Today, the chains may be less visible, but they have not disappeared.
Thinkers like Frantz Fanon warned in The Wretched of the Earth that colonialism was not merely an event—it was a structure. That structure was designed to outlive independence, ensuring that Africa would remain vulnerable, dependent, and disadvantaged in global affairs. This warning was echoed by Thomas Sankara and Kwame Nkrumah, who understood that political freedom without economic control is an illusion.
Now, as war rages in the Middle East—thousands of miles from African soil—the continent once again stands on the brink of suffering consequences it did not create.
Oil prices, the lifeblood of modern economies, are already rising. For many African nations, this means immediate economic strain: higher transportation costs, increased food prices, weakened currencies, and shrinking government capacity to provide basic services. Healthcare systems—already fragile—will deteriorate further. Social services will falter. The ordinary African citizen will bear the burden.
But the most dangerous consequence is not economic—it is political.
Rising hardship breeds instability. History shows that when the cost of living surges, so too does public frustration. Governments, unable or unwilling to shield their people, become vulnerable to unrest. And in the shadows of crisis, corruption thrives. For some leaders, global conflict becomes a convenient excuse—a smokescreen behind which public funds are siphoned and accountability is evaded.
Africa, once again, risks becoming collateral damage in a geopolitical struggle not its own.
Yet perhaps the most troubling reality is the silence.
Where is the African Union in this moment? Where is the unified African voice calling for de-escalation, for global stability, for the protection of vulnerable economies? Where are the leaders who so often speak loudly at the United Nations, consuming taxpayer resources, yet fall quiet when decisive moral and political leadership is required?
Silence, in times like these, is not neutrality—it is complicity.
Africa cannot afford to remain a passive observer in a world where the consequences of distant wars are felt so intimately at home. If the continent is to break free from the patterns identified by Fanon, Sankara, and Nkrumah, it must act with urgency, unity, and purpose.
This is not merely about foreign policy. It is about survival.
Africa must demand a seat not just at the table, but in the decisions that shape global outcomes. It must build economic resilience to shield its people from external shocks. And above all, its leaders must find the courage to speak—not just when it is convenient, but when it is necessary.
Because history has shown us what happens when Africa remains silent.
It suffers.
