The fall of Egypt’s African Association

In the wake of the 1952 Egyptian Revolution, Cairo cast itself as a champion of liberation across Africa and the Middle East. Determined to project influence beyond its borders, the new republic nurtured ties with movements fighting colonialism and racial domination. Central to this vision was the African Association, founded in 1956 to provide political, military, and material support to liberation struggles from Accra to Algiers.

The Association played a vital role in sponsoring and assisting young African leaders, enabling them to travel freely from Cairo—the main hub for freedom fighters—to countries in Asia, Europe, and Latin America, where they could boost their struggles against colonial and neo-colonial powers. But by the mid-1970s, mounting bureaucracy and shifting state priorities began to blunt its radical edge, foreshadowing a slow decline.

Once at the forefront of guiding African youth and radical elites toward the continent’s genuine interests, the Association shifted to promoting the goals of the African Union (largely in theory, given the AU’s limited performance) and serving as a center for thousands of African students studying in Egyptian universities.

The decline culminated in December 2024, when the Association officially closed its doors following a judicial ruling to return its headquarters to the original owners, who had filed a lawsuit as far back as the 1970s. The decision remained largely unknown until August 2025, when the Association’s spokesperson, Randa Khaled, revealed the news on her personal Facebook page. According to the South African researcher and author of several influential books, Leo Zeilig, these developments must be seen as “a serious attack”.

In the early post-colonial period, Egypt not only saw itself as culturally, economically, and politically part of the African continent but also embraced a self-appointed role as a leader in pan-African politics. During the 1950s and 1960s, solidarity with and practical support for national liberation movements across Africa—efforts in which the African Association played a vital role—was, in Zeilig’s words, “the heart and soul of Egyptian freedom itself”

Ibrahim Edris, The Eritrean freedom fighter and researcher now based in Denver, recalls his youth in Cairo and his encounters with the Association during and after the 1960s. Living in Helwan, a southern district shaped by Nasser’s industrialization and home to a growing working class population, he often journeyed to Zamalek, a district of the Egyptian elite and foreign residents, where the Association’s prestigious villa stood on Ahmed Heshmat Street.

Edris remembers the Association as a hub of African liberation, supporting leaders and their families across the continent. As he puts it, “it worked as a liaison office that coordinated and networked the activities of the representatives of the non-alignment bloc during the 1950s and 1960s, and contributed profoundly in supporting anti-colonial policies.” For him, the Association offered “the perfect formula to overcome many contradictions”—from the Cold War’s polarities to disputes within the Socialist world over anti-colonial strategy.

That energy faded quickly in the 1970s as the Egyptian president Anwar Sadat reoriented the country toward a closer relationship with the United States. The shift was keenly felt inside the Association.

Egypt has been the brutal incubator of neoliberalism in the region since the 1980s, the pressures to demolish this historical building, and its memory, have to be seen in this context: the total axing of Egypt’s radical and political past.

Matteo Grilli, Senior Researcher at the University of the Free State, South Africa, who studied Nkrumah and African liberation hubs, says that “US interference in Egyptian affairs, including its African policy, has been clear and undeniable since Sadat's time.”

Both Mohamed Fayek, Egyptian politician who held various cabinet posts from 1967 to 1971, and Helmi Sharawy, Egyptian academic and scholar, told Grilli that, since 1971, Egypt’s African Association and broader African policy suffered severe cuts in funding and government support. Sharawy recalls this period as “very frustrating,” both for his duties and for his feelings towards “Sadat’s stance on liberation movements.”

Grilli suggests that the dismantling of Egypt’s African policy—including the African Association and Afro-Asian Peoples' Solidarity Organization (AAPSO) in Old Cairo—began long ago, though the US’s role remains unclear.

On a recent visit with colleagues, Grilli found AAPSO’s (the Afro-Asian Peoples' Solidarity Organization) headquarters nearly abandoned, describing the organization as “dying a slow death.”

For Zeilig, the story is inseparable from broader neocolonial dynamics. “Egypt has been the brutal incubator of neoliberalism in the region since the 1980s,” he told Geeska. “The pressures to demolish this historical building, and its memory, have to be seen in this context: the total axing of Egypt’s radical and political past.”

Kribso Diallo, the Egyptian pan-Africanist and researcher who contributes on various African issues in Egypt, took the argument further, framing the closure as part of a deeper rupture. “It reflects a crisis in the modern Egyptian state’s relationship with its own liberationist legacy,” he says.

Cairo, once a hub of continental solidarity, had allowed its symbolic capital to wither. “Whereas in the 1960s continental belonging was a felt experience rooted in shared liberation, today it is framed by Western narratives that measure “Africanness” through the lens of the market or depict the continent merely as a space for migration or investment.” Diallo explains.

Grilli, however, was more cautious. “I am not sure if the U.S. or other ‘neocolonial’ powers might have exerted pressure,” he admitted. For him, the decline was as much about Egypt’s internal priorities as about external coercion.

If foreign pressures weakened the Association, internal decay hollowed it out further. Diallo pointed to a process of bureaucratization that stripped the institution of its original vitality. “These associations were deliberately emptied of their intellectual and cultural substance and replaced with bureaucratic functionaries who understood nothing about the liberation project,” Diallo told us. “Over time, they became empty spaces run with a routine mentality managed by minor employees whose tasks rarely went beyond filling out forms and closing files.”

We must be realistic, the influence of the Association and consciousness of Egypt’s role in the wider Pan-African struggle had long been waning. Our job is to remind people of Egypt’s previous leading position in the anti-colonial world.

Grilli echoed this view: “There was a significant problem with political backing and possibly corruption. The society was probably not deemed useful in any way. This reflects the lack of historical awareness coupled with the lack of interest that post-colonial states have in supporting Pan-African initiatives.” What had once been a hub of radical political imagination and liberation solidarity became, in both scholars’ accounts, a bureaucratic shell incapable of carrying forward its legacy.

The Association’s closure also exposes Egypt’s diminished position in Africa today. “It makes no sense,” says Grilli, “That Turkey—a country with no historic ties to Africa—has been vastly more active economically and politically than Egypt.” he adamantly stated that an African policy is not only economic “It is also cultural, helping African people work towards independence and a common plan.”

According to Zeilig, hard truths must be faced: “We must be realistic, the influence of the Association and consciousness of Egypt’s role in the wider Pan-African struggle had long been waning. Our job is to remind people of Egypt’s previous leading position in the anti-colonial world.”

On the other hand, Professor Hakim Adi offered a more hopeful perspective: “Of course the building is important, but even more important are the people.” he says reflecting on how he was struck by the diversity of the African students, from more than 10 different countries, at the launch of his book in Egypt. “The fact that there is now no official space to do that is lamentable, but it’s also an opportunity for everyone to get together and discuss all the challenges facing the continent.” he noted.

The African Association’s demise, then, is more than an ending. For some, it represents Egypt’s squandered symbolic capital. For others, it is a reminder that the Pan-African spirit cannot depend on state institutions alone. As Grilli concluded, “Perhaps a continental coordination initiative could exert more pressure than isolated protests”.