The Crescent and the Chains: Africa’s Ties to Palestinian Liberation

In every bomb dropped on Gaza and every bulldozed home in the West Bank, echoes of Africa’s past resound. Colonial conquest. Military occupation. Borders drawn with foreign ink. The Palestinian struggle is not a distant crisis to the African soul—it is a mirror reflecting our own story of dispossession, resistance, and the relentless pursuit of dignity.
Across the sands of Palestine and the savannas of Africa, the same boots have marched. The same flags of conquest have been hoisted. The same tactics of divide and rule, land theft, and historical erasure have been deployed. The British Empire’s Balfour Declaration of 1917, which promised Palestinian land to European settlers, shares a bloodline with the Berlin Conference of 1884, where European powers carved up Africa like spoils of war. These moments—though separated by time and terrain—were guided by a common logic: white supremacy dressed in the costume of “civilization.”

To understand the Palestinian struggle is to revisit our own. From Cape Town to Cairo, Africa’s encounter with colonialism was not simply the loss of land, but the theft of memory, culture, autonomy, and future. Traditional governance systems were dismantled, languages silenced, religions demonized, and people turned into subjects rather than citizens. The same process unfolded in Palestine, where the native population was redefined, demonized, and displaced—all under the sanctimonious banner of modernity and security.

Pan-Africanism and the Palestinian Cause

Africa’s post-independence leaders understood these parallels clearly. Kwame Nkrumah, the architect of Pan-Africanism, taught that African liberation could not be complete while other peoples remained under colonial rule. His vision of global solidarity included Palestinians—not as an afterthought, but as a fundamental principle of justice. Nelson Mandela echoed this when he declared: “Our freedom is incomplete without the freedom of the Palestinians.” These were not symbolic gestures; they were revolutionary commitments anchored in shared suffering and hope.
Thomas Sankara, the martyred Burkinabé leader, went further. He declared Zionism a tool of imperialism, categorizing it alongside apartheid, colonialism, and neocolonialism. Sankara did not mince words. He challenged Africa’s complicity in systems of oppression, refusing to play the politics of convenience. His moral clarity is missed today.
Julius Nyerere of Tanzania and Muammar Gaddafi of Libya also stood firmly in solidarity with Palestine. They did not merely issue statements at summits; they offered support, both ideological and material. Their commitment extended beyond diplomatic protocol—it was woven into their broader critique of global injustice. The Organization of African Unity (OAU), the predecessor of the African Union, routinely denounced Israeli occupation as a continuation of colonialism. At that time, Africa spoke with one moral voice.

The Crisis of the Present: Political Silence, Youthful Awakening

Fast forward to today, and that voice has been largely muted. Much of Africa’s current leadership is entangled in an intricate web of economic dependency, debt diplomacy, military aid packages, and Western-dictated foreign policy. This has led to a dangerous silence masquerading as neutrality. While Western powers fortify Israel with billions in military aid, African leaders release timid statements—or worse, remain silent—as hospitals are bombed, journalists are assassinated, and civilians are trapped under rubble.
However, the African people, especially the youth, are not silent. From Johannesburg to Accra, Lagos to Nairobi, a new generation is rising—digitally fluent, politically conscious, and morally restless. On platforms like X, TikTok, and Facebook, young Africans are reclaiming their voice and re-centering the narrative. They draw bold lines connecting police brutality in Lagos with military brutality in Jenin. They see parallels between forced evictions in Nairobi’s informal settlements and the demolitions in Sheikh Jarrah. They chant “From Ferguson to Gaza” not just as slogan, but as recognition that oppression is intersectional and global.
This youthful awakening is not spontaneous; it is the result of accumulated historical awareness. African youth are no longer content with being passive observers of global politics. They understand that silence is complicity and that hashtags must give way to action. They see how the same powers that pillaged Africa now justify the siege on Gaza. They know that if Palestine can be erased with impunity, so too can Congo, Sudan, Mali, or any other African state deemed expendable by imperial interests.

Beyond Hashtags: Institutional Responsibility and Moral Leadership

Yet solidarity must go beyond the digital realm. It must translate into policy, pedagogy, and praxis. Recalling ambassadors or issuing generic condemnations is not enough when our universities still teach history from the perspective of the colonizer, when our trade deals prioritize profit over principle, and when our political elites maintain normalized relations with oppressors in exchange for aid, arms, and applause from Washington, London, or Paris.

Africa’s institutions—especially the African Union—must undergo moral recalibration. The AU cannot continue to style itself as a voice for African dignity while welcoming regimes that enact ethnic cleansing and apartheid-like policies. Membership should mean more than a seat at the table; it should require adherence to basic human rights and justice. The AU must also challenge Israel’s observer status within its ranks—a move that dishonors Africa’s legacy of resistance.
Our universities, mosques, churches, and civil society organizations must rise to the occasion. They must educate, organize, and mobilize. Curricula should include not only Africa’s colonial history but also the global network of oppression and resistance. Scholars must expose the machinery of propaganda that equates Palestinian resistance with terrorism, while portraying state violence as defense. Religious leaders must speak from the pulpit with the courage of Desmond Tutu, who compared the situation in Palestine to South African apartheid and called on the world not to be silent.

The Geopolitics of Betrayal

A particularly painful dimension of the present crisis is the normalization of relations between some African states and Israel. In pursuit of economic gain or Western favor, countries are trading away their moral credibility. These agreements often come cloaked in development language—“technology transfer,” “agricultural innovation,” “security cooperation”—but their cost is the betrayal of justice.
When African leaders shake hands with those who perpetuate occupation, they dishonor the memory of our martyrs and freedom fighters. They forget that Africa’s path to freedom was marked by defiance, sacrifice, and solidarity. We did not win our independence by appeasing colonial powers—we won it by resisting them. That legacy demands that we stand with Palestine, not just in word, but in deed.

The Moral Imperative: A Shared Liberation

Africa must remember that our liberation is not complete if others remain enslaved. The struggle of the Palestinian people is not foreign to our reality; it is bound to our history and humanity. The blood that soaks Gaza’s soil today is not unlike that spilled in Sharpeville, Mueda, Soweto, Kano, or Biafra. The anguish of Palestinian mothers mirrors that of Algerian, Congolese, Sudanese, and Rwandan mothers who buried their children beneath colonial violence. These are not parallel stories—they are intertwined chapters of the same global injustice.
Just as the Black Consciousness Movement awakened South Africa, and just as Negritude reawakened African identity in the Francophone world, we need a new wave of political awakening that connects the dots: capitalism and colonialism, occupation and extraction, racism and resistance.
This is not about religion. It is not about Arabs and Jews or Muslims and Christians. It is about justice and injustice. About the powerful and the powerless. About the right to exist, to return, to live in dignity, and to breathe without fear.

Conclusion: The Crescent in the Heart of the Continent

Let it be known: the Crescent belongs in the heart of the Continent. Palestine is not Africa’s burden. It is our mirror. Our unfinished chapter. Our call to conscience. The same imperial boots that trampled our lands now trample theirs. The same lies that justified our enslavement and colonization are now used to justify occupation.

Africa, rise. Not with vengeance, but with vision. Not with bombs, but with boldness. Not with silence, but with speech. Let our embassies stand where our ancestors stood. Let our youth speak with the fire of Frantz Fanon. Let our institutions serve truth, not treaties. Let our flags fly not just for nationhood, but for justice.
Until Palestine is free, Africa’s soul remains restless. And until both are free, none of us are truly free.
This Author has 5 publications here on modernghana.comColumn: Abubakar Isah
Disclaimer: “The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect ModernGhana official position. ModernGhana will not be responsible or liable for any inaccurate or incorrect statements in the contributions or columns here.” Follow our WhatsApp channel for meaningful stories picked for your day.
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