It is possible to sympathise with the context that birthed an idea, even while criticising the inherent flaws in its lasting influence. This remains the central reason behind the malleability of most influential ideas—for when the problem persists, the core tenet endures, even as bits and pieces change form. This is the story of Pan-Africanism and its continued hold on the imagination of Africa’s intellectual, political, and economic elite. Pan-Africanism reflects the struggle of Western-educated Africans to understand their continent’s place in the world. Its weaknesses mirror their anxieties and inability to envision a return to Africa’s pre-colonial past, while simultaneously resenting European imperialism for robbing them of the power to shape the continent’s future. This paradox has remained as Pan-Africanism evolved from the transatlantic slavery era in the eighteenth century to the anti-colonial struggle following the end of World War II.

I’m not going to rehash the history of Pan-Africanism—historians such as Hakim Adi and others have extensively documented it. My aim is to show that the inherent flaw in the evolution of Pan-Africanism is also why it will never be effective in producing prosperity across the continent. Pan-Africanism emerged during the colonial occupation of Africa, guided by a philosophy focused on the removal of imperial control and the birth of a new ‘Africa for Africans’. The nearly total occupation of the continent between the 1860s and 1960s created the need for an idea of collective unity—a concept largely alien to precolonial Africa.

Early Pan-Africanism was grounded in the notion of racial unity. This idea was deeply influenced by its diasporic origins, as evident in its early proponents—from eighteenth-century abolitionists to nineteenth- and early twentieth-century thinkers. Martin Delany, a physician and early Pan-Africanist, declared in 1860: “Africa for the African race and black men to rule them. By black I mean men of African descent who claim an identity with the race.” Similarly, W.E.B. Du Bois, in The World and Africa, observed that “the idea of one Africa to unite the thought and ideals of all native peoples of the dark continent belongs to the twentieth century and stems naturally from the West Indies and the United States, where various groups of Africans, quite separate in origin, became so united in experience and so exposed to the impact of new cultures that they began to think of Africa as one idea and one land.”

Most figures that shaped Pan-African thought during this era came from the African Diaspora—Caribbean, American, British and French West Africa, and the emergent states of Liberia and Sierra Leone. Nearly all were Western-educated professionals who rejected European racial segregation while paradoxically embracing the ‘civilising’ mission of Christianity and colonialism. It was during this period that the idea of the ‘African personality’, championed by Edward Blyden, took root. The major flaw of Pan-Africanism—both then and later—was that it was injected with the revolutionary fervour of African independence and racial ‘distinctness’ but a failure to understand that once these two occupying forces have been removed or diminished, the continent would revert to its original state, a bit like Newton’s first law of motion.  

While the desire for independence is understandable, early Pan-Africanists arguably imagined a false future—a united post-independence Africa based on a romanticised, idealistic view of the pre-colonial past. They idealised pre-colonial Africa while ignoring its vast, entrenched differences. For example, in African Life and Customs, Edward Blyden presents an overly romanticised view of pre-colonial African societies that ultimately does a disservice to their complexity. In describing property relations, he claims that “the land and water are accessible to all, and nobody is in want of either, for work, for food, or for clothing.” He goes further, stating that the social life of the “pure African—the man untouched either by European or Asiatic influence—is communistic or cooperative. All work for each, and each works for all.” This portrayal borders on a utopian vision of a primitive, harmonious Africa—one stripped of the real complexities that defined pre-colonial life.

In reality, most pre-colonial African societies were far from such idealisations. They often engaged in violent competition over the control of resources like gold, land, and even human beings—fueled in part by external demand for slaves and commodities. This naiveté led early Pan-Africanists to gloss over the deep cultural differences between African societies, assuming these differences would not hinder continental unity. But pre-colonial African societies didn’t just have minor cultural variations —they had completely distinct views of cosmology, history, and identity. The notion of a unified ‘African personality’ did not exist. This cultural distinctiveness has always been difficult for many in the diaspora to grasp—even today— given their shared identity forged through the transatlantic slave trade.

These problems persisted as Pan-Africanism evolved after 1945. The later leaders of Pan-Africanism—Kwame Nkrumah foremost among them—were strongly influenced by their predecessors. Nkrumah wrote in his autobiography that Marcus Garvey’s philosophy and opinions profoundly shaped his worldview. While early Pan-Africanists grounded unity in race, Nkrumah and contemporaries like Léopold Sédar Senghor promoted a more complex, though equally flawed, basis for unity. Nkrumah, especially, was less influenced by the ideas of race-based unity, stating in his 1963 address at the founding of the Institute of African Studies: “When I speak of the African genius…I do not mean a vague brotherhood based on a criterion of colour.”

Still, the notion of the ‘communal’ nature of pre-colonial African life persisted as a model for continental unity, particularly in the visions of Nkrumah and Senghor—though interpreted differently by each. Nkrumah, for instance, drew a direct link between the communal structures of traditional African societies and his dogged adherence to socialism. More significantly, what shaped the thinking of later Pan-Africanists like Nkrumah—and later, Muammar Gaddafi with his elaborate vision of a United States of Africa—was the prevailing belief that the obstacles to Africa’s growth and prosperity were primarily external, not internal. Their proposals were largely driven by a desire to shield the continent from renewed forms of subjugation, whether colonial or neo-colonial, which they saw as the principal threat. Nkrumah, in particular, argued that a unified African foreign policy, a collective economic strategy, and even a continental army were essential safeguards against harmful external influences. Within the context of the time—when African nations were just emerging from colonial rule—a unified, continental response to external threats might have seemed both logical and necessary.

Yet, this, I must say, reflects a fundamental misunderstanding of the main drivers of European imperialism—and, by extension, European history and politics. Europeans did not dominate the African continent through unified, collective action, even though the term ‘Scramble for Africa’ might suggest otherwise. On the contrary, European imperialism was largely fuelled by intense rivalry and mutual distrust among the major powers of the era—competition that extended well beyond Africa into other parts of the world.

Nkrumah and other later Pan-Africanists often assumed that Europe’s success in colonising Africa was primarily due to a ‘divide and rule’ strategy. Consequently, they believed that the antidote to this tactic was continental unity. In Africa Must Unite (1963), published around the time of the OAU’s founding in Addis Ababa, Nkrumah wrote: “We need the strength of our combined numbers and resources to protect ourselves from the very positive dangers of returning to colonialism in disguised forms. We need it to combat the entrenched forces dividing our continent and still back millions…”

In reality, it was Europe’s internal economic, military, and technological superiority—not merely a ‘divide and rule’ strategy—that enabled the rapid colonisation of vast African territories. By this point in history, Western Europe had significantly diverged from much of the rest of the world, as reflected in its domination of more than 80% of the globe. Importantly, this divergence occurred along national and regional lines; it was not the result of any unified, continental European effort.

Moreover, even during this era of imperial expansion, there was little widespread public demand among European citizens for global domination—though the level of enthusiasm varied by country. This imperial ‘absent-mindedness’ later played a role in facilitating the relatively peaceful transitions to independence for many African nations. Most African states did not gain sovereignty through armed struggle, but through political agitation, supported in part by evolving ideas of decolonisation that had taken root within European political thought, including in government institutions.

Essentially, Nkrumah and other staunch integrationists often overstated the coherence of external—particularly European—threats, while downplaying the profound internal divisions within African societies.

These internal divisions were already evident at the founding of the Organisation of African Unity (OAU). Considerable scholarly discussion has focused on the divergent positions regarding African integration during this period. On one side stood the ultra-integrationist Casablanca bloc—including Morocco, Ghana, and Guinea—while the more cautious Monrovia bloc, comprising countries like Nigeria, Liberia, and Senegal, advocated for a looser form of cooperation. Nigeria, in particular, consistently resisted Nkrumah’s push for a political union.

At the June 1960 Conference of Independent African States, a Nigerian delegate warned, “If anybody makes the mistake of feeling that he is a Messiah who has got a mission to lead Africa, the whole purpose of Pan-Africanism will fear, be defeated.” While this may appear as a personal swipe at Nkrumah, it is not far from the truth. His well-documented authoritarian and megalomaniac tendencies—transforming Ghana into a one-party state, imprisoning political opponents, and fostering a personality cult that included placing his own image on a national currency in the manner of a roman emperor—point to a leader whose ambitions for continental unity were deeply ingrained with a messianic sense of personal destiny.

One imagines he would be pleased that his disciples have erected a statue of him before the gigantic manifestation of what was, in many ways, his ultimate vanity project.

But even when we separate the man from the idea, it becomes clear that the internal divisions among the African signatories to the African Union (AU)—which replaced the Organisation of African Unity (OAU) in 2002—remain one of the greatest obstacles to the organisation’s effectiveness and, by extension, to the viability of Pan-Africanism itself. These divisions were evident from the outset, as reflected in the OAU’s foundational pledge to “defend the sovereignty, territorial integrity and independence” of African states. This commitment laid the groundwork for a principle of non-interference in the domestic affairs of member states, effectively reducing the OAU to a passive observer while parts of the continent descended into chaos.

The AU, in contrast, adopted a more assertive posture, embracing the more interventionist ethos of Pan-Africanism by committing to active engagement in continental conflicts. However, recent history has shown that such interventions are often met with resistance from member states asserting their sovereignty. The recent wave of coups in West Africa and the strong pushback against ECOWAS efforts to respond illustrate the persistent challenge

The primary issues afflicting most African nations today stem from entrenched corruption among the political elite—an internal failure that has contributed significantly to the continent’s stagnation. This reality is well understood by many Africans who were born and raised on the continent. The problem is not neocolonialism, nor the perpetual manipulation of African affairs by external actors. In fact, the recent decisions by several Sahelian states to sever ties with their former French colonial rulers and pivot toward closer relations with Russia illustrate how much African sovereignty has evolved since the era in which Pan-Africanism was conceived. Yet, despite this shift, many elites in positions of power continue to recite the tenets of Pan-Africanism with rabbinical fervour.

Looking ahead, it is unlikely that Africa will achieve prosperity as a unified continent. Instead, development will most likely occur along national or regional lines, with some states achieving higher GDP per capita than others—mirroring patterns seen in regions like East and Southeast Asia during the so-called ‘Asian Miracle.’ In this context, Nkrumah’s legacy serves as a cautionary tale for Pan-Africanism. Given the opportunity to shape the destiny of a newly independent Ghana, he ultimately left the country less prosperous than he found it. Yet, he remained convinced that Africa’s problems were primarily external—despite the glaring shortcomings of his own domestic governance.

While the emotional and historical forces that gave rise to Pan-Africanism are understandable, it is equally important to recognise that the idea has run its course. Rather than continue to revive it out of sentiment, it is time to let it quietly fade away.