The widening gap between state strategy and societal sentiment, explored in Parts I and II, is not confined to Europe or North America. It has now become visible in Africa’s policy space. Since the collapse of the Soviet Union, the continent has rarely experienced such a dramatic convergence of social, ideological, and institutional shifts as it has in this decade.
In just a few years, terrorism has expanded across the Sahel, Mozambique, the DR Congo, and the Central African Republic, with insurgencies persisting in West Africa. Some crises trace back to the Arab Spring; others stem from fragile institutions, porous borders, and global competition playing out on African soil. Communities endure violence, displacement, and economic paralysis. Faced with these threats, governments have sought external cooperation in forms of diplomatic support, intelligence sharing, arms transfers, and counterterrorism partnerships.
For the state, these alliances are strategic necessities. Terrorism undermines not only security but also trade, investment, agriculture, and commerce. No economy thrives amid instability, and to prevent this, strategic cooperation was needed to fuel the security and political architecture of individual countries and regional frameworks.
Yet society often interprets these partnerships differently. Historical memory of colonialism and exploitation remains vivid. Every handshake with Western or global powers is scrutinised as dependency or betrayal. Youth movements, amplified by social media, demand that "Africa solve African problems.”
Sovereignty and dignity are powerful currencies, but the economic reality is more complex. Security cooperation, trade agreements, and investment partnerships are interlinked. Infrastructure requires capital and technology; exports depend on diplomacy. When society demands abrupt withdrawal, the state faces the same dilemma seen in Europe’s immigration debates: respond to sentiment or preserve stability.
The consequences are stark. Since 2020, Africa has witnessed eleven successful or attempted coups across the Sahel and West Africa. Military officers, capitalising on societal frustration, dropping their guns, or should I say, keeping the guns, leaving their barracks for the luxury of the state, have presented themselves as corrective forces, guardians of sovereignty stepping in where civilian governments allegedly failed.
In some cases, segments of society have conferred legitimacy upon these juntas, not through ballots, but through rallies and applause in a belief that the military would, in no time, make the Raison d’Etat known more clearly.
It is a paradox of African democracy that when faith in institutions declines, society may temporarily endorse non-democratic alternatives in pursuit of decisive action.
Yet as Part II suggested in the transatlantic context, structural realities rarely disappear with regime change. Military governments that terminated certain alliances to appease popular sentiment soon found themselves negotiating new partnerships with different global patrons and under a different hegemony.
The reason is straightforward: states do not pursue trade and security alliances for amusement. They do so because modern economies are interdependent. Sovereignty in the 21st century means navigating interdependence for the beauty of society, not isolation.
Meanwhile, the African Continental Free Trade Area (AfCFTA), heralded as a turning point, risks stagnation. Designed to create the largest free trade area in the world, AfCFTA promised deeper intra-African trade and stronger value chains. It was a homegrown solution to fragmentation.
Yet implementation has been slow. Infrastructure gaps persist, customs harmonisation lags, and political instability diverts attention. If AfCFTA remains stuck in procedural limbo, frustration will grow, and frustration fuels populism and institutional erosion.
Africa thus stands at a fragile crossroads. The state recognises that trade, security cooperation, and integration are essential for growth. Society, shaped by grievance and hardship, demands visible sovereignty and rapid results. When progress is slow, trust weakens. When trust weakens, institutions falter. The lesson from Europe and North America applies here: the solution is neither blind globalism nor reactive isolationism. It is alignment.
Governments must communicate transparently about the economic logic behind alliances. Trade agreements must deliver visible local benefits, jobs, infrastructure, and youth opportunities. AfCFTA must move from diplomatic celebration to practical execution, linking farmers to markets, startups to consumers, and manufacturers to supply chains. At the same time, society must recognise that absolute autonomy in an interconnected world is an illusion. The challenge is not whether Africa should engage globally, but how, on negotiated, strategic, and mutually beneficial terms.
Trade remains Africa’s most powerful stabiliser. Where markets expand, conflict incentives shrink. Where youth find opportunity, radicalisation loses appeal. Where integration deepens, fragmentation weakens. The tension between state and society will not vanish. But if trade becomes a social contract, a tangible bridge between governance and grassroots prosperity, Africa may avoid the rupture now straining other regions.
Africa’s future will not be secured by rhetoric, uniforms, or nostalgia. It will be secured by institutions strong enough to align strategy with sentiment, and by trade systems inclusive enough to make society see itself in the state.
The writer is a WTO Young Trade Leader 2025 with an interest in advancing inclusive trade for youth and women-led MSMEs.