South Africa has, for decades, carried burdens on behalf of this continent, some loudly acknowledged, many quietly ignored. From peacekeeping in Lesotho and the DRC, to economic stabilisation efforts across SADC, to being the single most consistent African voice in global forums where our collective interests are too often dismissed, diluted, or deliberately sidelined, South Africa has been the indispensable anchor of our region.
And yet, when that anchor is shaken, Africa goes silent.
Over the past months, President Cyril Ramaphosa has endured a series of undiplomatic and thinly veiled confrontations from the United States, first the ambush at the White House four months ago, and most recently, public verbal attacks directed at him and his administration. Whether one agrees with Pretoria’s foreign policy positions or not, the principle remains: an attack on a leading African voice in global politics is an attack on the entire continent’s geopolitical standing.
But where were Africa’s leaders? Where were the statements of solidarity? Where were the unified voices insisting that the dignity of an African head of state must be respected, especially by those who claim partnership with this continent?
The silence was deafening.
Contrast this with Europe. When Ukraine’s President Volodymyr Zelensky was criticised or pressured earlier this year, European Union presidents, commissioners, and ministers rushed to social media, issuing an outpouring of public support. They defended their own, immediately and unconditionally. Europeans understand something Africans often forget: global politics rewards unity and punishes hesitation. They close ranks not because they always agree with each other, but because they understand the cost of disunity.
Meanwhile, Africa, home to one of the world’s richest histories of solidarity movements, has left South Africa isolated at a moment when symbolism matters as much as diplomacy.
Let us speak honestly: this is the same pattern that left Libya exposed. Many African governments whispered in corridors that NATO’s campaign was reckless, but almost none stood up forcefully, publicly, and persistently for Muammar Gaddafi, not for his politics, but for Libya’s sovereignty and the principle that African problems must not be solved through Western bombardment. Silence enabled that intervention, and Africa has lived with the consequences ever since.
Today, that same timid silence shadows Ramaphosa.
South Africa is far from perfect. No nation is. But Pretoria remains the continent’s most influential diplomatic actor, the only African state consistently invited into G20 rooms, the one with the economic and political leverage to challenge global inequities, and one of the few that still speaks bluntly on behalf of the Global South. When South Africa is threatened, marginalised, or humiliated on the world stage, it is not Ramaphosa alone who is being diminished; it is Africa’s collective geopolitical weight.
The question we must ask is uncomfortable but necessary:
Why does Africa struggle to defend its own leaders in public?
Is it fear of offending powerful partners?
Is it the convenience of passivity?
Is it internal divisions that we pretend don’t exist?
Or is it a deeper crisis of confidence, one where African leaders still do not see themselves as equal actors in global affairs?
Marcus Garvey warned us generations ago: “If you don’t stand up for something, you will fall for anything.”
Right now, Africa risks falling, into irrelevance, into fragmentation, into a world order where the continent continues to be spoken about, spoken over, and spoken for, but rarely listened to.
The African Union speaks of unity every January in Addis Ababa. There are speeches about Pan-Africanism, declarations about shared futures, and resolutions about “speaking with one voice.” But unity cannot exist only in slogans. It must manifest in action, especially when one of our own is under attack.
It is time to abandon the habit of rhetorical solidarity and adopt the discipline of strategic solidarity.
Here is what Africa must do now:
1. Issue a collective statement defending South Africa’s sovereignty and dignity.
Diplomacy demands decorum. Publicly attacking an African president sets a dangerous precedent that must be rebuked, not tomorrow, not after consultations, now.
2. AU leadership must articulate a clear framework for responding to external political pressure on any African state.
If one leader is targeted today, another will be targeted tomorrow. Predictable solidarity must replace sporadic outrage.
3. SADC must reaffirm that South Africa’s stability, leadership, and international positioning are central to regional security.
Pretoria has carried SADC through multiple crises. It is time for the region to stand with its anchor.
4. African leaders must rediscover the courage of Kwame Nkrumah, Julius Nyerere, and Thomas Sankara.
These were leaders who understood that defending each other was not optional, it was existential.
5. Citizens, civil society, and intellectuals must raise their voices as well.
Pan-Africanism has never been solely a project of elites. It has always been driven by people.
South Africa stood alone this week, but it should not have. Africa cannot profess unity only when convenient and abandon it when it matters most. The world is entering an era of geopolitical blocs, and those who fail to align themselves strongly will be dictated to ruthlessly.
Standing with South Africa is not about agreeing with every policy decision Pretoria makes. It is about defending the principle that African nations deserve respect, not conditional respect, not selective respect, but full and unapologetic respect.
If we remain silent today, we will be complicit when the next African state is cornered, disrespected, or destabilised. And we will have no moral authority left to claim unity in Addis, Abuja, or anywhere else.
Africa must speak now, loudly and decisively.
Because if we cannot defend one of our strongest voices, then truly,
we will fall for anything.
