Perspectives
Africa’s power grabs are rising – the AU’s mixed response is making things worse
Hardly a month goes by without news of another unconstitutional change of government on the African continent.
These can take one of three forms.
The first is a military coup d’état or violent change of (democratically) elected government. The second is the refusal of an incumbent government to relinquish power after losing an election. And finally, manipulating constitutions to win or extend term limits of an incumbent government.
We study peace and conflict in Africa, as well as African Union law. We set out these three categories in a paper we published in 2023. In it we analysed unconstitutional changes of government in Africa between 2001 and 2022.
We found that there had been 20 coup d’états, six instances of constitutional manipulation and four attempts by incumbents to hang onto power after losing elections.
These patterns have persisted since the publication of our study. The most recent was the military takeover in Guinea-Bissau in late November 2025.
With the persistence of unconstitutional changes of government, particularly what has been described as a coup resurgence in Africa, we analysed the African Union’s stance on these three forms of regime change.
The African Charter on Democracy, Elections and Good Governance of 2007 prohibits unconstitutional changes of government. It prescribes sanctions to restore constitutional order when they occur.
We found that for the majority of coup d’états (17 out of 20 in our dataset), the AU was strict in enforcing the sanctions prescribed by the charter to restore constitutional order. However, its response to incumbents’ attempts to hang onto power after losing elections and constitutional manipulations to extend term limits has been mixed at best.
These findings led us to look at how the AU can strengthen continental democratic mechanisms to prevent the so-called African coup belt from widening further.
We conclude from our findings that the AU needs to do two things.
Firstly, avoid unconstitutional changes of government. The way to do it is to:
- foster a true democratic culture in African states
- set clear rules on matters such as constitutional changes that are often manipulated by incumbents to stay in power
- enforce these rules without fear or favour.
Secondly, the AU, the Economic Community of West African States (Ecowas) and other regional bodies must apply firm sanctions to civilian leaders who manipulate the law to stay in power, just as they do to military coup makers.
A history of coups
The euphoria that swept across Africa following independence from European colonial rule in the late 1950s and 1960s was short-lived.
Many African countries plunged into decades of political instability, socioeconomic crises and civil wars. One of the major factors that drove this period was the lack of strong systems of democratic participation and peaceful transfers of power.
With no meaningful space for inclusive political participation and peaceful transitions, military coups and countercoups, rebel movements and other violent means of ascending power became the norm.
Between 1956 and 2001, there were 80 successful coup d’états, 108 failed coup attempts and 139 coup plots in sub-Saharan Africa.
In 2000, African leaders decided at a summit in Togo to adopt the Lomé Declaration. This condemned coup d’états and other unconstitutional changes of government. It was the first continental instrument to lay out a framework for a collective African response to unconstitutional changes of government.
This was followed by the 2007 African charter on democracy and the Malabo Protocol on an African criminal court in 2014.
These three instruments provide for various sanctions targeted at African states and individuals complicit in breaching democratic principles.
Despite these, several African states have still recorded transitions of power that are unconstitutional. And the AU’s response has been mixed.
The AU’s mixed response
These are some of the examples we identified.
In 2010, the AU supported an international effort to remove Laurent Gbagbo after he refused to hand over power after losing elections in Côte d’Ivoire.
Yahya Jammeh’s refusal to step down from power after losing elections in 2016 in The Gambia was also met with a stern response from the AU. It said it “will not recognise” Jammeh. Ecowas considered “removing him using mililtary force” if he refused to hand over power peacefully.
But there have been some notable failures to take action.
For instance, Ali Bongo’s flawed electoral win in Gabon in 2016 did not attract concrete action from the AU. Nor was any action taken over the delayed elections in the Democratic Republic of Congo under Joseph Kabila in 2018.
The most glaring failure in building democratic principles in Africa has been the lack of sanctions from the AU when incumbents manipulate constitutions to extend term limits.
From Burundi to Côte d’Ivoire, through Togo to Zimbabwe, we found no evidence in our dataset where the AU has directly responded to instances of constitutional manipulations.
Yet, in recent history, constitutional manipulations have been the major precipitants of military interventions. Recent coups in Gabon, Guinea, Chad and Sudan were all preceded by constitutonal manipulation to extend or abolish term limits.
We found that when the democratic space shrinks and people feel they have no way to express dissent, the risk of popular uprisings increases. The military often seizes on these moments to intervene.
What needs to happen
The continental treaties on democracy and good governance require strict adherence to democratic principles and respect for the principles of democratic changes of government.
For them to be effective, the following steps need to be taken.
Firstly, democratic principles must be clearly defined. For instance, does amending a constitution to abolish presidential term limits to benefit an incumbent violate these principles? How about engineering the disqualification of opposition candidates through machinations like politically motivated prosecutions?
Secondly, clear rules must be established on matters like term limits.
Thirdly, the AU, Ecowas and other regional bodies must stop coddling pseudo-democrats whose conduct invites coups. They must stop supervising and endorsing sham elections that keep these leaders in power.
Finally, the AU can demonstrate its commitment to democracy and good governance by refusing to reward autocrats. This could mean not appointing autocrats to important bodies, such as the AU Peace and Security Council (which is charged with monitoring democracy and good governance on the continent), or awarding them chairmanship positions.
—
By Richard Fosu, Lecturer in International Relations, Monash University
Dr Christopher Nyinevi, who works with the Ecowas Court of Justice in Abuja, Nigeria, is a co-author of this article.
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
Commentary
Authentic Voices, Foreign Narratives and the Fortune Madondo Case | By Joseph McCarthy
This article by Joseph McCarthy, an analyst and researcher focusing on governance, security, and political transitions in the Sahel, argues that modern influence in Africa often spreads not through propaganda but through credible African voices that carry narratives aligned with the interests of external powers. Read the full article below.
Authentic Voices, Foreign Narratives and the Fortune Madondo Case
How Russian narratives are travelling through authentic African voices, and what the Fortune Madondo case reveals about it
By Joseph McCarthy
For years, the word disinformation conjured a familiar picture: troll farms, fake accounts and automated bots flooding the internet with crude propaganda. Those methods still exist, but influence operations have matured. The most effective messenger today is rarely an anonymous account. It is a real person, with a real name, a credible public profile and convictions he appears to hold sincerely.
The case of Fortune Madondo illustrates the shift. He is no online provocateur hiding behind a pseudonym; he is a Zimbabwean teacher and the founder of a youth organisation, with a documented life in his community. He writes under his own name, identified in his byline only as an “African Teacher,” with no institution given, and his views seem consistent with his stated beliefs. What matters is less who he is than what he carries. Across more than fifty articles in twelve months, most of them on Pan-African platforms, the line never wavers: praise for the military juntas of the Sahel, attacks on Western governments and on AFRICOM, condemnation of France’s role in Africa, and the celebration of resource sovereignty against foreign plunder. Whether by design or by conviction, these themes closely align with the narratives Moscow has sought to amplify across the continent.
That alignment, not the man, is the point. Influence no longer requires recruitment, payment or instruction. A foreign power’s objectives can be served just as well by people who believe every word they write, because the force of the message lies in its local authenticity. A reader will trust an African voice discussing African problems far sooner than a communiqué from Moscow. So the useful question is not whether Fortune Madondo is a Russian agent; there is no public evidence that he is. The question is who benefits when local voices, sincere or not, repeatedly reinforce narratives that happen to serve a foreign strategy.
Consider how this interacts with Pan-Africanism. Russia has spent years presenting itself as a champion of African sovereignty and an enemy of colonialism, language that resonates because it draws on real historical wounds. Madondo’s writing sits comfortably within that tradition, and many African intellectuals share his instincts. Yet the scrutiny runs in only one direction. The West is relentlessly interrogated; Moscow, despite its expanding military, mining, and political footprint, is almost never asked the same questions. If Pan-Africanism is the defence of African sovereignty against all external control, the principle must apply evenly. When French deployments are called neo-colonial, Russian military contractors deserve the same examination; when Western extraction is condemned, so should Russian mining concessions. When he co-signed an appeal in late 2024 demanding both that Russian troops leave Ukraine and that French troops leave Africa, the false symmetry itself did Moscow’s work. A Pan-Africanism that suspects only one power risks sliding from a doctrine of independence into an instrument of another’s ambition.
The Madondo question also points to a place: Ghana. Over the past two years, the country has drawn growing attention from foreign actors keen to enter its media space, and the reason is structural. Ghana is one of Africa’s most respected democracies and a heavyweight in anglophone media; what is published in Accra travels across West Africa and beyond. In December 2025, Ghanaian journalists attended a SputnikPro seminar co-organised by the Russian Embassy and the Ghana-Russia Centre, led by Vasily Pushkov of Rossiya Segodnya, the state group behind the Sputnik news agency. Other moves followed, among them a cooperation agreement with Ghana’s main journalism university and the opening of a Russian cultural centre. None of this is illegal. But influence secured in Ghana enjoys a multiplier effect that few other markets offer.
The mechanism is quieter than propaganda and more durable. People do not trust propaganda; they trust outlets they already consider credible. A publication earns that trust through genuine local reporting, and the reader then assumes that everything on the page has cleared the same editorial bar. That is where credibility is transferred: from the newsroom’s real work to syndicated columns, opinion pieces and, on some platforms, verbatim Russian state material set at the same level as a story on local agriculture. Repetition completes the effect. Ten near-identical articles across ten outlets read as an independent consensus; the reader concludes that everyone is saying this, when in truth, the same viewpoint is simply circling back. Influence here comes not from proving a claim, but from normalising it.
The significance of the Madondo case, then, is not the unmasking of an operative; the evidence does not support that, and the chase would miss the point. It is the growing difficulty of telling sincere conviction apart from narratives engineered to serve someone else’s strategy, in an environment where influence travels through authentic voices, trusted platforms and ideas that genuinely resonate. The defence is not a hunt for enemies but the slower work of critical thinking, editorial transparency and media literacy. The question is no longer simply who is speaking. It is whose interests are served when the same narrative is amplified, again and again, across the continent.
Joseph McCarthy is an analyst and researcher focusing on governance, security, and political transitions in the Sahel. He writes on geopolitics, development, and African diplomacy. Email: joecarthy30@gmail.com
Commentary
5 Reasons Ghana’s Floating Dock Could Reshape West Africa’s Maritime Economy
Ghana has inked a £215 million ( $287. 5 million) deal with the United Kingdom, anchored by a £101 million ($135.05 million) floating dock in Takoradi.
If successful, it will become the Gulf of Guinea’s first modern, commercially operated ship repair facility.
Here is what is at stake.
1. The Gulf of Guinea Loses Millions While Ships Sail Elsewhere for Repairs
The Gulf of Guinea is one of Africa’s busiest shipping corridors, crowded with oil tankers, cargo vessels, and offshore support ships. Yet almost all major repairs happen outside the region, often in Namibia, Spain, or beyond. Every vessel that bypasses West Africa carries away not just steel but also jobs, technical knowledge, and national revenue. The region pays the repair bill elsewhere and receives none of the associated economic ripple effects.
2. A Floating Dock Is Only the Beginning – The Real Prize Is a Maritime Services Cluster
The dock itself is just hardware. The true opportunity lies in building a complete ecosystem around it: logistics, steel fabrication, waste management, security, crew training, catering, and port-side supply chains. Without these supporting industries, the dock becomes an isolated asset rather than an engine of local employment.
3. Ghana Already Has Indigenous Firms Ready to Scale
Homegrown players such as Rigworld have proven capabilities in marine and industrial services. The pivotal question is whether this project allows those firms to grow or whether foreign operators will absorb the most valuable contracts. Local-content policies will determine the answer.
4. Success Depends on Transparent, Proactive Government Measures
Infrastructure alone guarantees nothing. Authorities must publish tender opportunities clearly and early, establish a centralized supplier portal, offer certification support to local businesses, and ensure that Ghanaian small and medium enterprises can access affordable working capital. Without deliberate rules, international firms may capture the entire supply chain while domestic companies watch from the shore.
5. If Ghana Succeeds, Takoradi Becomes a Blueprint for African Value Retention
Should Ghana get this right, the floating dock could become a template for how African economies retain more value from their own geographic advantages. If it fails, the region will simply have acquired another expensive piece of imported equipment with little local benefit. The Gulf of Guinea offers no shortage of ships. Whether Ghanaian businesses—not just foreign firms—will profit from them remains the only question that truly matters.
Commentary
Africa Forward: Is Europe Finally Learning to Treat Africa as an Equal Partner?
Did the Africa Forward Summit in Nairobi mark the end of Europe’s paternalism toward Africa? With €23 billion in new commitments, joint chairing on African soil, and business at the centre of talks, analyst Joseph McCarthy argues the old script may finally be changing—but warns that partnership without concrete industrialization remains just rhetoric.
Read the full analysis below.
Africa Forward: Is Europe Finally Learning to Treat Africa as an Equal Partner?
By Joseph McCarthy
For decades, Africa’s summits with external powers have followed a familiar script. African leaders fly to Paris, Brussels, Washington, Beijing, Moscow or New Delhi; their hosts roll out the red carpet, deliver speeches about partnership, announce ambitious initiatives and pose for the customary family photograph. Communiqués are issued, declarations adopted, and everyone returns home—yet little changes. Investment gaps stay wide, trade stays lopsided, industrialisation crawls, and Africa keeps exporting raw materials while importing finished goods.
That is why the Africa Forward Summit, held in Nairobi on 11 and 12 May 2026, deserves attention; not because Africa needs another summit, but because it signals a possible shift in how Europe, and France in particular, sees the relationship. The symbolism was hard to miss. For the first time, a summit between Africa and France was jointly chaired on African soil with an anglophone African state. President William Ruto of Kenya and President Emmanuel Macron of France stood not as host and guest, but as partners on the same platform. Africa was not summoned to Europe; Europe was invited to Africa. Yet symbolism is not changed. Nairobi will matter only if equality and genuine reciprocity outlast the communiqué.
The more telling shift was in the cast. Summits between Africa and Europe have long belonged to presidents, diplomats and development agencies, with the private sector seated politely at the back. This time, business sat at the centre. The Inspire and Connect forum gathered heads of state alongside scores of African and French company chiefs to discuss industrialisation, value chains, energy and human capital. The message was blunt: the future should rest less on aid and charity between states, and more on investment, entrepreneurship and industrial partnership. African governments no longer seek the role of recipients; they want capital, technology, expertise and market access. Where old summits asked what Europe could do for Africa, this one asked a sharper question: what can African and European firms build together?
There were numbers to match the rhetoric: roughly €23 billion, about $27 billion, in fresh commitments, comprising some €14 billion from French public and private actors and €9 billion from African investors, aimed at energy, digital technology, artificial intelligence, agriculture, health and industry. More striking than the figures was the emphasis. French and European firms voiced interest in investing and producing alongside African companies inside Africa, rather than merely selling into its markets. The most concrete example came from Nigeria, where Accor and the African energy and infrastructure group Shoreline signed a letter of intent for the country’s first national hotel platform: a $300 million project of ten hotels across eight cities, more than 1,200 rooms by 2030, with a training academy to build local skills.
If such partnerships multiply across manufacturing, agriculture, energy, health and digital technology, Africa could enter a new phase of competition. Unlike the scramble of the nineteenth century, driven by extraction and conquest, this one would turn on investment, production, and market opportunities, with Europe, China, the Gulf, India, and Türkiye all competing for a seat at the table. African governments may be better placed than ever to play these suitors against one another in their own interest. The question is no longer who claims to be Africa’s best friend, but who will invest, produce, transfer technology and create jobs.
Here lies the lesson Africa keeps relearning: a good partner is not the one you like most, but the one who brings you the most advantage. France’s history on the continent is singular, not because of a colonisation now decades past, but because the relationship that followed it never truly ended. Several capitals took the easy road, leaning on Paris for their security and quietly surrendering a slice of their sovereignty, while Paris was content to play suzerain. In 2013, Mali hailed France as its saviour when French troops drove back the jihadists closing on Bamako; a few years later, its junta cast that same France as worse than the seven plagues of Egypt. Such incestuous, melodramatic attachments had to end. External powers are neither saviours nor devils; they are partners pursuing their interests, as African states pursue theirs.
That is why Africa can no longer tolerate the old arrangements: military protectorates dressed up as protection; the abuses of foreign mercenaries in its conflict zones; or the economic colonisation that surrenders strategic assets, ports, airports, and railways to whichever state writes the cheque. The withdrawals from Mali, Burkina Faso and Niger were not merely a rejection of France; they marked the exhaustion of a framework inherited from colonial times that no longer fits African aspirations. If Nairobi means anything, it is that Paris may finally grasp that the age of the suzerain is over. France matters here for one further reason: it is a gateway to the wider European market. Should its approach shift from paternalism to brokering business between African and European firms, that would be welcome news for both continents.
Africa’s most urgent task is economic transformation. With millions of young people entering the labour market each year, the world needs productive capital, industry, technology transfer, and jobs; aid alone has never delivered these. What it seeks now is straightforward: investment without domination, cooperation without dependency, partnership without paternalism. Like Saint Thomas, Africans will believe what they eventually see rather than what they are promised. The elegance of its communiqué will not judge the summit, but by visible progress: in artificial intelligence, where Africa must become a creator and not merely a consumer; in infrastructure, the roads, railways, ports, power and connectivity that carry an economy; in food systems, through higher local output and lighter dependence on imports; and in industry, the move beyond raw exports toward manufacturing and value addition.
History will not remember what was promised in Nairobi. It will remember what was built, what was transformed, and what was delivered. Until then, Africa will watch carefully.
Joseph McCarthy is an analyst and researcher specialising in governance, security, and political transitions in the Sahel. He writes on geopolitics, development, and African diplomacy. Email: joecarthy30@gmail.com
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