In a new era of political activism and change, Africa’s youth are no longer content to sit on the sidelines.
A wave of protests has swept across Africa this year, and explanations have failed to accurately capture their intersectional essence. Indeed, there’s something distinct about this season of unrest compared to previous waves in 2010, 2018 and 2020.
Arguably, Africa hasn’t experienced expressions of dissatisfaction with governments on this scale and geographic scope since the independence movements of the 1950s and 1960s. Nigeria is the latest country to see mass demonstrations, which this year alone have occurred in Kenya, Senegal, Uganda, Togo and Comoros.
What’s different? Why now? And where next?
The first distinct feature is that these protests are organic and limited in central leadership. In the past, such movements were typically fuelled by the political opposition, organised labour, or civil society organisations. This time, discontented youth armed with social media accounts and shared grievances are at the forefront, mobilising first and organising later. Kenya’s #rejectthefinancebill protests for example, were cobbled together before fully consolidating into a social movement.
Second, protesters’ demands have shifted from single issues to systemic overhaul. Historically, mobilisation typically centred on specific grievances – tax repeals, service delivery, anti-corruption and political repression. Today, protesters are angry with the system. Although triggered by austerity reforms by Presidents Bola Tinubu in Nigeria and William Ruto in Kenya, these were merely sparks to a tinderbox. Austerity – which has become emblematic of the youth’s sense of hopelessness – is a symptom of a broken politico-economic system that needs a reset rather than repair.
At the forefront of the demonstrations are Gen Zers. Their nihilistic attitude stems from unmet expectations and mistrust of the political system. Raised in the digital age and exposed to global issues, they engage in viral activism, more easily foster cross-border solidarity, and seek immediate, impactful change. That makes their protests more visible and influential, and their ability to mobilise more savvy.
For Gen Zers, the social contract has been broken, if it was ever realised at all. Both short- and long-term factors have contributed to this. Kenya and Nigeria’s incoming presidents made campaign promises but delivered the opposite once in power. Both Ruto and Tinubu have asked the average citizen to endure hardship while political elites flaunt their wealth.
This lifestyle dichotomy has become a lightning rod for anger in an era where social media and tech-savvy populations have brought citizens closer to politicians. Conspicuous displays of wealth alongside stagnant wages, high unemployment, rising inflation and inept government responses have further eroded trust between the state and citizens. Disaffection has even extended to the political opposition, who many feel are complicit in maintaining the status quo or simply playing for scraps.
A succession of crises has led to a distinct lack of optimism. After the Global Financial Crisis, the positive ‘Africa Rising’ narrative took hold, fuelled by cheap Eurobonds, a returning diaspora, high growth and investment, and Africa’s first football World Cup in 2010. Millennials and Gen X in Africa believed their lives would materially improve. Gen Z hasn’t experienced this optimism – instead lurching from one predicament to the next.
The cumulative effect of years of economic stagnation – from the Ebola outbreak and the commodity crash to COVID-19, multiple wars, climate change, and a global cost of living crisis – has resulted in a decade without visible improvement and little hope. The continent’s population growth and youth bulge have surpassed the carrying capacity of crony politics, exposing the system’s weaknesses. Patience has run out, and African youths are taking matters into their own hands.
So, are we on the cusp of an African Spring and broader contagion?
Scholars identified several factors behind the Arab Spring: economic hardship, political repression, corruption and mistrust of governing institutions. While no ‘springs’ are identical, many of these risk factors are prevalent in several sub-Saharan countries.
In Ethiopia, a failed post-war transitional justice process has entrenched incendiary economic conditions characterised by high inflation, unemployment, poverty and narrow economic growth. The uptake of an International Monetary Fund programme has promised a buffer, but like in Kenya, poorly targeted reforms and inadequate welfare support could induce unrest among Ethiopians watching events next door.
Zimbabwe is also ripe for unrest. Throughout June and July, activists sought to mobilise anti-government demonstrations to coincide with the 17 August Southern African Development Community summit to pressure political and economic reform by the Mnangagwa administration. In a pre-emptive crackdown, the government arrested over 160 people including elected officials, opposition members, union leaders, students and journalists.
Likewise, Togolese political opposition and civil society have mobilised against the new Constitution promulgated in May, which potentially guarantees President Faure Gnassingbé indefinite rule. In Senegal, populist president Bassirou Faye’s election appears to have reduced the political temperature; however, failure to deliver on his campaign agenda could see the masses turn against him as they did against Ruto. Discord is fomenting in Tanzania and Zambia, where reformist presidents struggle to deliver on mandates.
That said, ripeness for unrest alone doesn’t mean it’s inevitable, nor is contagion guaranteed. Authoritarian governments like those in Zimbabwe and Uganda – characterised by deep frustrations with the status quo – have found a way of weathering public pressure across multiple decades.
Where the state is strong, close to the military, and has an overriding influence on institutions, the political status quo hardly changes. But governments amenable to political grievances, flanked by modest institutions and strong civil activism, face a greater prospect of substantive political change. Meanwhile, countries with weak governments, weak institutions and robust military actors face a higher risk of armed insurrection.
Regardless of the nature of the rule, navigating this climate will be challenging for governments across Africa. Responses will vary based on institutions’ ability to contain or suppress unrest, the resilience of civil society, and the nature of political regimes.
Strongman regimes like in Ethiopia, Uganda, Zimbabwe and Togo will probably muscle their way through such volatility using the stick and giving the public few concessions. The same cannot be said for the likes of Kenya, Tanzania and Nigeria, which will be forced to appease aggrieved masses. Governments clinging to survive could backpedal on fiscal reforms as a trade-off for political stability. Reshuffles may also become more frequent as a signal of political change.
That said, stability purchased by these temporary measures may be fleeting. Deep-seated structural changes are necessary, as younger populations are less accepting of piecemeal concessions and can weather crackdowns.
Ultimately, the unrest we see across Africa could be the start of a new era of political activism and change. Whether this will lead to a continent-wide ‘spring’ or a series of isolated corrections remains to be seen.
What is certain is that Africa’s youth are no longer content to sit on the sidelines. They are demanding a voice in shaping their future, and are unlikely to be silenced easily.