As the South African judiciary prepares to rule on the fate of activist Kémi Séba, recently detained in Pretoria while attempting an illegal border crossing to Zimbabwe, writer Venance Konan questions whether the social media phenomenon represents the true spirit of contemporary panafricanism. This moment offers a critical opportunity to examine the movement’s evolution and its many transformations.
By Venance Konan
Kémi Séba, whose real name is Stellio Gilles Robert Capo Chichi, holds dual Beninese-Nigerien citizenship and possesses a diplomatic passport. He was arrested in South Africa in mid-April alongside his 18-year-old son and François Van der Merwe, a South African white supremacist nostalgic for apartheid-era policies. Séba heads the NGO “Urgences panafricanistes” but is primarily recognized for his radical panafricanist activism, characterized by harsh anti-French, anti-CFA franc, and antisemitic rhetoric. These positions led to the revocation of his French citizenship, which he had held since birth.
The activist was attempting to enter Zimbabwe—likely as a transit point to Europe—when authorities intervened. He now faces trial in Benin on charges of “apology for crimes against state security and incitement to rebellion” for publicly endorsing soldiers involved in last December’s failed coup attempt. An international arrest warrant has been issued against him.
Russian propaganda and support for Sahel dictatorships
Kémi Séba, along with Franklin Nyamsi and Nathalie Yamb, stands among the most prominent voices of panafricanism in Francophone Africa. These figures are vocal critics of France’s presence on the continent, yet they simultaneously serve as key propagandists for Russia in Africa and staunch supporters of the military juntas in the Alliance of Sahel States (AES)—namely Assimi Goïta of Mali, Ibrahim Traoré of Burkina Faso, and Abdourahamane Tiani of Niger. Does this new panafricanism entail rejecting France only to submit to Russian influence while backing authoritarian regimes that openly reject democracy?
From anticolonial struggle to fragmented nationalism
The panafricanist movement emerged in the early 20th century among Black intellectuals in the Americas and the Caribbean. It became a driving force in the anticolonial struggles across Africa, with iconic leaders such as Kwame Nkrumah of Ghana, Sékou Touré of Guinea, and Patrice Lumumba of the Democratic Republic of Congo. The ideology galvanized African students in France, particularly those in the Fédération des Étudiants d’Afrique Noire en France (FEANF), founded in 1950. The organization evolved into a political movement advocating for decolonization and continental unity. Its uncompromising stance against the Algerian War drew the ire of French authorities, who retaliated by raising rents for African students, reducing scholarships, and intensifying police surveillance. FEANF was eventually dissolved in 1980.
The independence of Ghana in 1957 and most African nations in 1960 were widely seen as triumphs of panafricanist struggle. The creation of the Organization of African Unity (OAU) in 1963 was hailed as a milestone toward African unification. However, once independence was achieved, narrow nationalism took precedence. Instead of continental unity, Africa witnessed fragmentation—such as the secession of Eritrea and the division of Sudan—or failed attempts like Biafra and Casamance. In 2002, Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi sought to revive the dream of a united Africa by transforming the OAU into the African Union (AU), but this initiative failed to gain traction. Gaddafi was later killed by a Franco-American-British coalition in 2011. The AU established the New Partnership for Africa’s Development (NEPAD) in 2001 as a blueprint for integration and development, but the initiative has since faded into obscurity.
From civil wars to hostility toward Africans
Today, the term “panafricanism” is often invoked rhetorically. Just as French politicians feel compelled to declare their love for Africa, African leaders and intellectuals frequently brand themselves as panafricanists. Some countries even have ministries or departments dedicated to African integration. For instance, former Ivorian president Laurent Gbagbo, who led the country from 2000 to 2010, recently launched the Parti des Peuples Africains-Côte d’Ivoire (PPA-CI), positioning it as a panafricanist party. Similarly, Senegal’s ruling party is named the Patriotes Africains du Sénégal pour le Travail, l’Éthique et la Fraternité (PASTEF).
Yet, in practice, African nations—when not embroiled in civil conflicts such as in the Horn of Africa, Sudan, or the Great Lakes region—often exhibit hostility toward other Africans within their borders. This is evident in South Africa, where xenophobic violence against African migrants is common, or in West Africa, where tensions persist between Sahelian states and their neighbors in the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS).
Why urgent panafricanism is needed
Where have all the panafricanists gone? Today, the most visible voices are Kémi Séba, Franklin Nyamsi, and Nathalie Yamb—three figures dominating social media platforms. Séba, originally from Benin but previously French, lost his citizenship due to his anti-French activism. Nyamsi, from Cameroon, is also French and under scrutiny in Paris for his anti-French positions. Yamb, whose father is Cameroonian and mother Swiss, has faced sanctions from the European Union for similar reasons. They claim persecution for their fight against Western domination, particularly France. But where does this panafricanism stand when its advocates openly serve Russian interests on the continent? Can liberation be achieved by merely swapping one form of domination for another? The atrocities committed by Russian-backed militias in the Sahel speak for themselves. Where is the panafricanism when its champions align with brutal dictatorships that suppress freedoms, imprison dissidents, and silence opposition?
According to leaked phone conversations circulating on social media, Séba has accused Nyamsi and Yamb of being “opportunists” in the pay of Faure Gnassingbé, a Togolese leader who styles himself as a panafricanist democrat. Séba himself, despite his anti-French rhetoric, has been heard expressing regret over the loss of his French nationality. Let us be clear: this kind of panafricanism is corrupted, stale, and little more than deception. Yet, in a world increasingly dominated by predatory powers, Africa has no choice but to unite swiftly—urgently embracing panafricanism as a matter of survival.
