For decades, global power shifts, interventions, and crises, from political turmoil in Venezuela to debates surrounding Greenland’s security, have demonstrated a blunt reality: no state thrives in isolation. Without robust collective security arrangements, even nations endowed with natural resources, strategic depth, or diplomatic weight remain vulnerable to external pressure, coercion, and interference.
The lesson from these global episodes is clear and increasingly unavoidable: security without solidarity is vulnerability.
At the centre of this debate stands the African Union (AU).
Is the AU’s current security architecture sufficient to protect Africa’s 54 member states, or does the continent risk being strategically revisited by external powers who perceive Africa’s fragmentation as opportunity?
Across Africa, this question is no longer theoretical. It is urgent and existential.
Since its transformation from the Organization of African Unity in 2002, the African Union has invested in institutional tools aimed at preventing conflict and protecting member states. Central among these is the African Peace and Security Architecture (APSA), anchored by the Peace and Security Council (PSC) and supported by mechanisms such as Early Warning Systems and Regional Standby Forces.
Yet, despite this institutional design, violent conflicts persist, most notably in the Democratic Republic of Congo and Sudan, raising uncomfortable but necessary questions about the limits of the AU’s security reach and enforcement capacity.
Can the continent realistically build a collective security mechanism capable of safeguarding its people and territories independently of external donors and geopolitical interests?
In contemporary geopolitics, a state facing internal conflict or external pressure rarely possesses the capacity to defend itself alone.
The cases of the DRC and Sudan are emblematic. Proxy wars fuelled by competition over natural resources, strategic influence, and regional rivalries continue to devastate communities and destabilise entire regions. Without continental-level coordination and protection, individual states struggle to contain these dynamics.
At the same time, African states face a structural dilemma: the AU’s peace and security apparatus remains chronically underfunded and heavily dependent on external donors. This dependency constrains autonomy, slows decision-making, and limits the AU’s ability to act decisively in defence of its member states’ security interests.
The absence of a fully operational, autonomous, and credible collective security system therefore leaves the continent exposed.
Put simply: when each state stands alone, Africa as a whole remains fragile.
The Peace and Security Council was designed to function as Africa’s continental collective security framework, with authority to anticipate, prevent, and respond to conflicts. In principle, it works in coordination with Regional Economic Communities (RECs) to manage crises closer to the ground.
In practice, however, persistent challenges remain:
Overlapping mandates between the AU and sub-regional bodies dilute authority and delay responses.
Funding gaps and donor dependency undermine strategic autonomy and operational readiness.
Limited deployment capacity of continental standby forces restricts rapid and coordinated intervention.
These are not merely bureaucratic shortcomings. They translate directly into delayed responses, prolonged conflicts, and human suffering on the ground.
When collective security mechanisms fail, the consequences are not evenly distributed.
The heaviest burden falls on women and girls. In conflict zones, they disproportionately endure displacement, loss of livelihoods, sexual and gender-based violence, trauma, and the collapse of essential services. Prolonged instability also fuels irregular migration, as young people risk their lives in search of safety and dignity, often with tragic outcomes.
Security failures are therefore not abstract policy debates; they are lived realities with generational consequences.
Too often, blame is directed at regions such as the Sahel (Burkina Faso, Mali, Niger) for democratic backsliding and governance disruptions. Yet this framing risks obscuring deeper questions:
If security and development are central to stability, why have decades of international engagement delivered such limited results?
And if collective security is the answer, why has it not been operationalised in ways that genuinely protect states and populations?
These are not academic questions. They are strategic questions about Africa’s sovereignty, agency, and future place in the world.
Until Africa is able to defend itself collectively, politically, economically, and militarily, the continent will remain vulnerable to external agendas, proxy conflicts, and strategic exploitation.
And when that happens, history shows us who pays the highest price.