Why I Do Not Believe in the United States of Africa.

I do not believe in the dream of a United States of Africa.

And before somebody immediately accuses me of being anti-African, let me make something absolutely clear: I am not against Africa. I am for Africa.

I believe in Ubuntu, African sovereignty and Pan-African cooperation. I believe Africans should control their own resources, their own economies and their own future. I believe Africa should be strong enough to defend itself against foreign political and economic interference.

But none of that automatically means that I believe an entire continent should be placed inside one gigantic political state.

And let me make something else clear: I am not a left-wing Pan-Africanist. I describe myself as a far-right Pan-Africanist.

That may sound contradictory to people who associate Pan-Africanism almost exclusively with the political left. But Pan-Africanism does not have to mean one ideology, one economic system or one vision of political integration.

My Pan-Africanism begins with sovereignty, self-determination, cultural identity, decentralisation and cooperation between African peoples.

I do not believe that loving Africa requires believing that Africa must become one state.

That is precisely where my disagreement with the United States of Africa begins.

1. A BIGGER BORDER DOES NOT CREATE A PEOPLE

Here is the question nobody seems to want to ask:

If smaller political units cannot resolve their internal divisions, why would making the political unit even bigger magically solve the problem?

Look around the world. The United States has experienced secessionist movements and profound regional divisions. The United Kingdom has dealt with Scottish independence and the constitutional question surrounding Northern Ireland. Yugoslavia was a multinational federation and eventually broke apart. Russia contains numerous peoples and regions with different historical identities. China has faced longstanding tensions involving ethnic and regional identities.

None of this proves that every federation or political union must fail.

But it demonstrates something extremely important:

A flag does not create a people. A constitution does not erase history. And drawing a bigger border does not make differences disappear.

Now apply that logic to Africa.

The Democratic Republic of Congo contains an enormous number of ethnic and linguistic communities. Nigeria is also extraordinarily diverse. These countries already face difficult questions concerning regional identity, ethnicity, language, religion, political representation and the distribution of power.

And then someone comes along and says: “I know what the solution is. Let's make the political structure even bigger. Let's unite dozens of countries and create one continental state.”

Excuse me?

If you cannot make the smaller house work, why would adding fifty more rooms suddenly make the architecture better?

And that immediately leads to another problem: who controls this new Africa?

Who gets the political power? Which demographic groups dominate its institutions? Which languages receive priority? Which legal traditions prevail? Which cultures receive national recognition? Which historical narrative becomes the national narrative? Where is the capital? How powerful is the central government? How much sovereignty remains with the constituent states and regions?

And what happens to a relatively small ethnic or linguistic community when it suddenly finds itself inside a political structure containing more than a billion people?

What becomes of its political influence? How does that community defend its interests against vastly larger demographic blocs?

These are not side issues.

They are at the heart of the entire proposal.

Africa is not one ethnicity, one language, one religion, one culture or one historical experience. And Africa certainly did not historically develop as one political nation.

2. BEFORE UNITING AFRICA, ADDRESS THE FRAGMENTATION THAT ALREADY EXISTS

Colonialism made this situation even more complicated because colonial borders frequently divided existing ethnic, linguistic and cultural communities between different political territories.

The Maasai live across Kenya and Tanzania. Somali communities extend across several present-day political jurisdictions in the Horn of Africa and East Africa. Lunda communities extend across several countries. Bakongo communities live across Angola and the two Congos. Fulani/Fula communities are spread across enormous parts of West Africa and the Sahel.

These realities existed long before anyone started discussing a United States of Africa.

So I ask an uncomfortable question:

Why should the colonial map suddenly become sacred when discussing African political unity?

Perhaps the first question should not be “How do we unite Africa?”

Perhaps it should be:

“How do we repair the fragmentation that already exists?”

That leads me to a radically different vision.

My principle is simple:

First self-determination. First cultural confidence. First sovereignty. Then cooperation. And then — if people actually want it — federation.

I deliberately use the provocative word Balkanisation.

I do not mean war. I do not mean ethnic cleansing. And I certainly do not mean that Africans should hate their neighbours.

I mean questioning the assumption that political borders inherited from colonial administrations must remain untouchable forever.

What if Africans themselves could ask which communities were historically divided by artificial borders? What if those communities could strengthen their cultural, linguistic and historical connections? What if political structures were built from the bottom up rather than imposed from the top down?

Maybe that eventually produces larger regional federations. Maybe confederations. Maybe stronger economic unions. Maybe, one day, even something resembling a continental federation.

I do not pretend to know what every African people will choose.

That is precisely the point: they should choose.

If greater political unity eventually emerges from that process, then the unity would be voluntary.

Because unity imposed from above is not necessarily unity.

It can simply be centralisation wrapped in a beautiful slogan.

3. MY PAN-AFRICANISM IS NOT THE PAN-AFRICANISM OF THE LEFT

This is where my disagreement with parts of the Pan-African left becomes fundamental.

I reject the assumption that Pan-Africanism necessarily requires continental political centralisation.

My vision starts from the opposite direction:

Not one African identity imposed from above, but African identities protected from below. Not centralisation first, but sovereignty first. Not political union by ideology, but cooperation by consent.

For me, Pan-Africanism means making African peoples strong enough to determine their own futures.

It means Africans controlling African resources. It means reducing dependency on foreign powers. It means protecting African cultures. It means strengthening African economies. And it means Africans cooperating strategically whenever their interests align.

Greater integration may eventually emerge from that process. Perhaps even federation.

But federation should be the consequence of consent, not the starting assumption.

I would rather see Africans rediscover their own histories. I would rather see endangered languages protected. I would rather see communities reconnect with their traditions. I would rather see colonial borders peacefully questioned where appropriate. I would rather see African countries develop strong regional alliances based on concrete shared interests.

And I would rather see political power decentralised than concentrated inside one enormous continental bureaucracy.

4. ONE AFRICAN SUPERSTATE WOULD ALSO BECOME A GEOPOLITICAL PRIZE

There is another danger supporters of a gigantic continental federation need to take seriously: geopolitics.

Imagine one enormous African federation controlling vast territories, strategic minerals, energy resources, agricultural land, major waterways and one of the world's largest markets.

Do people seriously believe that foreign powers would simply sit back and say: “Congratulations, Africa. Good luck. We won't interfere”?

Major powers would continue to have interests.

And whenever enormous political structures contain significant internal divisions, those divisions can become geopolitical vulnerabilities.

A minority dissatisfied with the central government could potentially attract foreign support. Money can flow. Weapons can flow. Political support can flow. Intelligence can flow. Propaganda can flow. Diplomatic recognition can be offered. Separatist movements can receive external support.

And the same mechanism can work in reverse: an outside power might decide that supporting the central government or a demographic majority better serves its strategic interests.

Either way, Africans risk becoming pieces on somebody else's geopolitical chessboard.

The history of Africa already contains numerous examples of external powers becoming involved in domestic and regional conflicts. Rwanda and the wider Great Lakes region also demonstrate why simplistic explanations are dangerous: ethnicity, regional politics, state interests and foreign involvement can become deeply intertwined.

That complexity is precisely my point.

The larger and more strategically valuable the political structure becomes, the greater the geopolitical stakes surrounding control of that structure become.

5. UNITY SHOULD NOT MEAN CULTURAL OR LINGUISTIC HOMOGENISATION

Then there is the language question.

People sometimes say: “We'll simply make Kiswahili the African lingua franca.”

Why should the question be that simple?

Kiswahili is an African language with enormous historical importance, particularly in East Africa, and it has long functioned as a major regional lingua franca.

But why should one regional language automatically become the linguistic identity of an entire continent?

Africa possesses an extraordinary linguistic heritage: Wolof, Yoruba, Igbo, Hausa, Fulfulde, Kongo, Lingala, Kinyarwanda, Kirundi, Amharic, Oromo, Tshiluba, Akan, Zulu, Xhosa, Shona — and hundreds of others.

My argument is not against Kiswahili.

My argument is that African unity should not require African linguistic erasure.

And the same principle applies politically.

A gigantic African state would not automatically be democratic. It would not automatically distribute political power fairly. It would not automatically protect minorities. It would not automatically eliminate corruption. It would not automatically prevent authoritarianism. And it certainly would not automatically prevent foreign interference.

Calling a political structure African does not resolve those problems.

Institutions still matter. Power still matters. Representation still matters. Checks and balances still matter. Local autonomy still matters.

And above all, consent still matters.

An African central government can still become excessively powerful. An African bureaucracy can still become detached from ordinary Africans. An African political majority can still dominate an African minority.

Replacing foreign domination with internal domination is not liberation.

6. AFRICA DOES NOT NEED UNITY AT ANY PRICE

So no, I am not against African unity.

I am against pretending that unity is a magic word that solves every problem.

I reject the assumption that a larger political structure automatically produces a better political outcome. I reject the assumption that questioning a United States of Africa automatically makes somebody anti-African. And I reject the idea that the identities and political interests of hundreds of African peoples should simply disappear in pursuit of an abstract political ideal.

My position is straightforward:

Self-determination before centralisation.

Cultural confidence before homogenisation.

Sovereignty before bureaucracy.

Cooperation before political absorption.

Consent before federation.

Build Africa from the bottom up — not from the top down.

You can place 55 states inside one political structure. You can create a continental parliament. You can create a president. You can create a flag and an anthem. You can print passports. You can establish federal institutions.

And you can give the project a magnificent name:

THE UNITED STATES OF AFRICA.

But none of that answers the fundamental question:

Do the people living inside that structure actually want to become one political nation?

If the answer is not clearly yes, then creating the institutions does not automatically create the identity.

You have created a larger political container and assumed that a common political identity will eventually follow.

Africa does not need unity at any price.

Africa needs cooperation between strong, self-confident peoples capable of determining their own futures.

And if those peoples eventually decide that they want to construct a federation together, then let them construct it.

But let it be based on consent, sovereignty, diversity, self-determination and political reality — not on the assumption that drawing one gigantic border around Africa can erase centuries of history.

Because a united Africa that cannot protect its internal diversity from domestic domination or external manipulation is not automatically stronger.

It may simply become a much bigger target.

So yes, I describe myself as a far-right Pan-Africanist.

And yes, I fundamentally reject the United States of Africa envisioned by parts of the Pan-African left.

Not because I want a weak Africa. Not because I reject African cooperation. And not because I believe Africans should remain dependent on foreign powers.

Quite the opposite.

My vision of a strong Africa begins with sovereignty, self-determination, cultural continuity and voluntary cooperation — not continental centralisation.

That is the disagreement.

You can love Africa without believing Africa must become one country.

You can believe in Pan-Africanism without accepting every Pan-Africanist doctrine.

And you can dream of a powerful Africa without dreaming of a United States of Africa.

Jean Kiala-Inkisi

Far-right Pan-Africanist