The current conversation surrounding African identity and progress often feels like a loop trapped in a three-act tragedy. It begins with the undeniable glory of ancient kingdoms, moves swiftly to the devastating impact of European colonialism, and concludes with a sigh of ongoing victimhood. We have become experts at diagnosing the wound and identifying the perpetrators, but we often stop right at the edge of the most important question: What now? While the history of greatness and the reality of violation are both true, a third, more difficult element is required to complete the narrative: our own responsibility for the present. Without this, we remain trapped in a story that grants us moral authority but denies us actual power.
Part One: The Foundation of Capability
To understand where we are going, we must accurately acknowledge where we started. Pre-colonial Africa was never the primitive vacuum that colonial textbooks suggested. It was a continent of sophisticated political systems and advanced intellectual hubs. Consider the University of Sankore in Timbuktu, which housed a quarter-million manuscripts at a time when many European centers of learning were still in their infancy.
This history is not just a collection of fun facts for social media; it is empirical proof of capacity. From the stone architecture of Great Zimbabwe to the intricate bronze work of the Benin Kingdom—so advanced that Europeans initially claimed it must have been created by outsiders—the "cultural DNA" for building complex civilizations is clearly present. However, many modern narratives stop at this celebration. We catalogue our lost glory and wear our heritage as an act of resistance, yet we often fail to bridge the gap between that ancestral brilliance and our current material reality.
Part Two: The Structural Reality of the Wound
Acknowledging our agency does not mean ignoring the catastrophe of the past. The transatlantic slave trade was an economic and demographic vacuum that sucked 12 to 15 million people out of the continent, specifically targeting the youngest and most productive. This was followed by the 1884 Berlin Conference, where European powers literally carved up the continent without a single African present, creating artificial borders that forced hostile communities together while splitting ethnic groups apart.
The damage was not just physical; it was structural and psychological. Colonial institutions were designed for extraction, not for the benefit of the governed. This architecture persists today. In 2026, the CFA franc, a currency still heavily influenced by French policy, governs the monetary systems of 14 African nations. Railways still prioritize moving minerals from mines to ports rather than connecting African cities to one another. To deny the weight of this history is to be dishonest, but the critical question remains: does being a victim of history absolve us of the responsibility to lead in the present?
Part Three: The Hard Truth of Agency
This is where the conversation becomes uncomfortable. It has been over 60 years since the era of independence swept the continent, yet we frequently use historical victimhood to bypass internal accountability. While neocolonialism is a valid external pressure, it cannot explain every failure.
Take the comparison to Singapore, which gained independence in 1965, the same decade as many African nations. Despite having no natural resources and significant ethnic tensions, it transformed into a global powerhouse through a ruthless focus on meritocracy and institution-building. Dismissing this as "colonial favoritism" or "different circumstances" is a form of infantilization; it suggests that African leaders were incapable of making similar strategic choices.
[Graph comparing GDP growth of Singapore and selected African nations since 1965]
We must also look at the internal choices being made today. When leaders like Mobutu Sese Seko looted an estimated $5 billion from the DRC, or when current officials build palaces while hospitals go without medicine, we are seeing choices, not just "colonial legacy." Even the African Continental Free Trade Area (AfCFTA), signed in 2018, has struggled to move the needle; intra-African trade remains under 15% of the continent's total trade. This isn't just because of colonial borders—it’s because of national protectionism, corruption at border crossings, and a refusal by leadership to cede minor sovereignty for the common good.
The Path to Liberation
Integrating the "AND" into our identity—acknowledging we were great, we were wronged, and we are responsible—changes the entire strategy for the future. It means we stop waiting for the West to repent or for reparations to arrive before we decide to thrive.
In practice, this looks like the models we see working today. Rwanda used its pre-colonial governance traditions to rebuild from the 1994 genocide, refusing to remain defined by its tragedy. Botswana managed its diamond wealth with such transparency that it moved from one of the world's poorest nations to an upper-middle-income democracy. In Kenya, the M-Pesa revolution showed that African engineers didn't need to wait for Western-style banking to solve the problem of financial inclusion; they simply built their own system.
Real freedom is not found in winning arguments on social media or changing a syllabus. It is found in the grit of building institutions that outlast the people who created them. If we can accept the burden of responsibility, we finally stop centering our oppressors in our story. We reclaim the power to fix what we didn't break, not because it’s fair, but because we are the only ones who can.
