Sunday 18 January 2026
In 1975, during a state visit to Uganda, Yasser Arafat was met at the airport by President Idi Amin in full military regalia, flanked by honour guards and parading schoolchildren waving Palestinian flags. This dramatic reception reflected more than just protocol; it was an important moment in the story of Afro-Palestinian solidarity. Amin was so fond of Arafat that he chose him as the best man for his wedding. Across the African continent, Arafat was received not merely as a diplomat but as an ally and friend whose cause resonated deeply with the continent’s own experiences of anti-colonial struggles.
At the time, Palestine stood as a kind of archetype of anti-colonial resistance with which many African leaders and liberation movements closely identified. In that regard, it served as a unifying force among many African leaders. I hope to tell that story, but also to explore how those deep moral and political ties gradually frayed. Today, it occupies a far more contested and fragmented space within the foreign policies of various African states and in public discourse. This begs the question: what happened to Palestine’s place in Africa’s political imagination?
The peak of Afro-Palestinian relations spanned from the 1960s into the 1980s. During this period, African states offered not only diplomatic recognition and political backing but also material support. In some cases, countries such as Libya, Algeria, and Uganda served as landing points or safe havens for Palestinian factions like the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP) during high-profile hijacking operations aimed at drawing international attention to the Palestinian cause.
Yet these ties extended beyond ideological alignment. They were also the result of relentless diplomatic engagement, led by Yasser Arafat, head of the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO). Arafat personally visited dozens of African countries—including Algeria, Tanzania, Uganda, Libya, Zambia, Nigeria, Ethiopia, Tunisia and others—cultivating strategic alliances with governments that viewed the Palestinian cause as intertwined with the broader global fight against apartheid and colonialism.
By the late 1980s, more than 30 African countries hosted official PLO representations, treating it both as a liberation movement and a future state project. The PLO also organised joint liberation conferences with African counterparts—such as the 1969 Pan-African Cultural Festival (PANAF) in Algiers—and succeeded in securing the African bloc’s support in UN General Assembly votes.
These strong ties yielded tangible results: Palestine was granted Observer Status at the United Nations in 1974, as well as at the Organisation of African Unity (OAU). African support gave Palestine a wide diplomatic presence across the continent, enabling coordinated political campaigns, cultural exchanges and, at times, military assistance, including training and arms support. For instance, the 1988 Palestinian Declaration of Independence was read in Algiers; Palestinian fighters trained alongside ANC cadres in Libya throughout the 1970s and 1980s. The Palestinian cause was even included in educational materials in countries like Tanzania. During this golden era, Africa was a critical political and logistical base for the Palestinian national movement.
Palestinian diplomatic disengagement began in the early 1990s, as the PLO shifted its focus towards negotiations with Israel and eventually signed the Oslo Accords in 1993. This marked a fundamental reorientation of Palestinian political strategy, centring on Western donors and the project of state-building as the PLO leadership returned to Palestine and sought financial support for its projects. In the process, the Global South—especially African countries—was deprioritised, based on the mistaken assumption that historical solidarity did not require active maintenance. Palestinian diplomats at the time underestimated the long-term consequences of this diplomatic neglect.
Much of the strong diplomatic network that Palestine enjoyed in Africa during the 20th century was built on deep personal relationships between Yasser Arafat and key African leaders. Figures like Julius Nyerere, Ahmed Ben Bella, Muammar Gaddafi, and Kenneth Kaunda saw in Arafat a fellow revolutionary and friend, and their support often extended beyond institutional diplomacy into genuine ideological alignment and shared perceptions of global powers and dynamics. For example, Nyerere invited Arafat to Tanzania as a comrade in struggle. He became the first African leader to grant the PLO an embassy in his country. Nyerere later said that the Palestinians had “been deprived of their own country” and that they “therefore deserve the support of Tanzania and the entire world.” Arafat described him as a leader who understood the true nature of the Palestinian struggle.
However, with leadership changes after Arafat’s death, regime collapses, and generational shifts—especially after the Arab Spring and broader political transitions across Africa—those personal alliances were not translated into lasting institutional ties. This marked the second biggest Palestinian diplomatic mistake in its relationship with the continent. Without a long-term Palestinian diplomatic strategy to sustain these relationships beyond Arafat’s era, much of the goodwill and cooperation gradually faded. As a Libyan colleague once remarked: “Arafat’s picture has faded in Libya—not just on the walls, but in our imagination and priorities.”
In the early 2000s, the PLO retreated further and became mired in internal factional divisions. Israel, on the other hand, stepped into the vacuum, launching a systematic campaign to expand its presence on the continent. Under the “Return to Africa” strategy, led by Benjamin Netanyahu, Israel positioned itself as a valuable partner to African states in key sectors such as security, agriculture, water management, and technology—all vital to the development agendas of many African nations. This strategy was not merely economic or developmental; it aimed to break Africa’s historic voting bloc in support of Palestine at the UN and to normalise Israel’s image among African governments.
The success of this approach became visible between 2016 and 2020, during which Netanyahu made multiple high-profile visits to African countries. From attending the East Africa Summit in Uganda to engaging with leaders from Kenya, Rwanda, Ethiopia and others, Israel pushed for stronger relations with Africa. A planned Africa–Israel Summit in 2017 in Togo—intended to showcase growing ties—was only cancelled after pushback from countries still committed to the Palestinian cause. “Various pressures have been placed on the Togolese president to cancel the conference,” Netanyahu said of the cancellation. The move was welcomed by the PLO which said it was “a strong message that the world will not give Israel a free hand to infiltrate the continents of Africa and South America”.
Israel also capitalised on its advanced military and surveillance technology to deepen security cooperation across the Horn of Africa and Sahel regions. Over the years, countries such as Ethiopia, Kenya, Nigeria, and Rwanda became regular and reliable customers of Israeli weapons, cyber tools and spyware. These security partnerships helped transform Israel’s role from a distant actor into a strategic ally in the eyes of many African states.
Israel’s renewed strategy of engagement with Africa has contributed to a notable shift in the position of several African countries towards the Palestinian cause, its leadership, and the broader relationship. This shift has led to a fragmentation of what was once a relatively unified African voting bloc in support of Palestine. Countries such as Rwanda, Uganda, and Ethiopia have grown closer to Israel, expanding cooperation across sectors including agriculture, security, and technology.
Over the years, the number of African countries recognising Israel and hosting Israeli diplomatic representation has steadily increased. Currently, 44 out of 54 African countries recognise Israel, and 30 maintain official diplomatic missions in Tel Aviv. This deepening of bilateral ties has become evident on the global stage, particularly through divergent voting patterns at the UN general assembly on resolutions concerning Palestine.
This split was most visible during the escalation of violence in Gaza starting in late 2023, where African states took opposing positions. Countries like South Africa and Algeria strongly condemned Israel’s occupation and ongoing violations of Palestinian human rights. In contrast, Kenya, Zambia, Ghana and the Democratic Republic of the Congo expressed support for Israel and endorsed its actions calling it self-defence.
It is important to note that this shift at the official state level is not necessarily mirrored among the general public or civil society. Despite growing ties between some African governments and Israel, grassroots organisations, university student groups, trade unions and other segments of civil society continue to express strong support for the Palestinian cause.
This disconnect is reflected in public protests, solidarity marches, campaigns, and statements calling for boycott, divestment and sanctions (BDS) against Israel. For example, in 2023, civil society groups filed legal petitions urging the South African government to downgrade ties with Israel. This grassroots pressure contributed to South Africa taking Israel to the ICJ in 2024, accusing it of genocide in Gaza. Egypt and Namibia support the case. A large civilian convoy also took off from North Africa aiming to break the siege of Gaza. The resilience of Afro-Palestinian solidarity at the popular level serves as a counterbalance to the evolving diplomatic landscape and allows us to insist that restoration of stronger ties at state level is not only possible but also necessary. The former Palestinian Prime Minister, Mohammad Shtayyeh, spoke at the African Union’s 37th summit in 2024 — an important decision both symbolically and politically. But engagement between Palestine and Africa needs to go further than that.
Diplomatic relationships don’t vanish overnight—they decay quietly. In the case of Palestine and African countries, what was once a forceful expression of solidarity has been replaced by silence that is as political as it is telling. The absence of Palestine from many African foreign policy agendas today is not just about geopolitics; it reflects the consequences of years of detachment, hesitation, and missed moments of engagement.
There is no shortcut to mending this gap. But there is space—still—for a different kind of diplomacy from Palestinians. One that listens more than it declares, that shows up even when there’s nothing to gain, and that reclaims solidarity not as nostalgia, but as a living political choice.
In 2023, during a student gathering at a university in Accra, a young Ghanaian activist stood up after a talk on global liberation struggles and said: “My father fought apartheid in South Africa. My generation is watching apartheid in Palestine and being told to stay neutral. But neutrality is just the accent of power.”
That moment didn’t make headlines, but it captured something essential: that the language of liberation still resonates, still cuts through, and still matters.
Africa carries the memory of struggle—not as a relic, but as a call to action. It’s not about looking back, but about standing together today, with honesty and resolve, to rebuild connections that can strengthen the fight for justice everywhere.