The Thursday Briefing: Democracy in Code: How Digital Power Is Reshaping Sovereignty in Africa

 (Reflections on Zambia's 2026 general elections).

By Dr Blessing Vava

During the past month in Zambia, in the run-up to the country's 13 August general elections, I watched democracy unfold not only at rallies, campaign meetings and polling stations, but also on the screens of ordinary citizens.

A young voter in Lusaka could move from a WhatsApp conversation about the election to a Facebook campaign video, then to TikTok commentary, before checking a candidate's position on an issue. A Yango driver could follow campaign developments between trips, while a small-business owner in Kitwe could receive political messages while processing mobile-money payments on Airtel. On election day, citizens followed results, rumours and competing claims through their phones long before the official count had concluded.

Zambia's 2026 election, contested by fourteen presidential candidates alongside hundreds of parliamentary and local-government candidates, was fought not only through rallies, posters, television and radio, but across increasingly important digital spaces. This was not accidental. It reflected a broader transformation in democracy itself.

Elections, constitutions, parliaments, political parties and courts remain essential. But democratic life is now also mediated through smartphones, social platforms, algorithms, digital identities and artificial intelligence. The question is no longer simply whether technology can strengthen democracy. It is who controls and governs the technologies through which democratic participation increasingly takes place—a question at the heart of geosociotechnopolitics.

From the Ballot Box to the Digital Public Sphere: Zambia’s New Electoral Architecture

For much of Africa's post-independence history, political communication was relatively centralised. Governments, newspapers, radio, and television were the principal gatekeepers of information. My time in Zambia made these fundamental changes visible. Campaign messages moved constantly between physical and digital spaces: a rally generated content for Facebook; a television interview became a TikTok clip; a speech circulated through WhatsApp groups within minutes. Citizens were not simply consuming political messages; they were recording, remixing, and redistributing them.

Traditional broadcast media played a vital role in bridging this physical-digital divide. Established houses—the public broadcaster ZNBC alongside private networks such as Diamond TV, Muvi TV, Prime TV, and QTV—extended their reach well beyond television sets by live-streaming debates, breaking news, and interview clips on YouTube, Facebook, and X. Citizens inside and outside Zambia followed events as they unfolded. In this sense, the gatekeepers of the broadcast era were not displaced by digital platforms so much as absorbed into them.

The 2026 electoral field—spanning from the governing UPND to the NRPUP, Socialist Party, Citizens First, and smaller parties—depended heavily on this expanded digital architecture. Political leaders actively shaped, and were sometimes trapped by, it. President Hakainde Hichilema’s camp and the UPND used digital platforms to communicate policy, project continuity, and mobilise younger voters while bypassing traditional media. Opposition figures such as Brian Mundubile of the NRPUP adopted similar strategies to communicate directly with voters.

Yet the same platforms that expanded political communication also amplified volatility. This was starkly demonstrated when Mundubile claimed victory through online channels before the Electoral Commission of Zambia completed its official tally, accelerating competing claims of legitimacy and placing immense pressure on electoral institutions.

This volatility was compounded by the rapid circulation of unverified claims and synthetic disinformation. Fake GEN-20 forms purporting to show official election results spread across social media and messaging groups, giving misleading narratives a veneer of institutional authority. In an environment where citizens anxiously awaited outcomes, fabricated documents often travelled faster than institutional corrections.

Similarly, a false communication circulated online alleging that State House had instructed the Zambia Information and Communications Technology Authority (ZICTA) to shut down internet access and target critics. Although State House and fact-checkers quickly exposed it as a fabrication, the rumour generated deep anxiety. It succeeded not because it was true, but because it threatened the very digital infrastructure through which citizens were experiencing the election. The episode revealed a new reality of democratic politics: political leaders and institutions are no longer required only to communicate policies or official decisions; they are increasingly forced to expend political capital responding to entirely fabricated mandates and false narratives attributed to them.

The combination of premature victory declarations, fake GEN-20 forms, and false shutdown claims illustrates a fundamental tension of democracy in the digital age. Institutional procedures have deliberate timelines for establishing facts, but the digital public sphere refuses to wait for them. Political narratives can be declared, fabricated, shared, and believed long before the institutions responsible for establishing the truth have completed their work.

When Information Becomes a Political Weapon

The events surrounding the counting process demonstrated one of the clearest lessons of the campaign: misinformation and premature political claims can shape public perceptions before verified facts catch up.

iVerify Zambia documented a number of false and misleading claims circulating during the election period, including manipulated political content, allegations concerning electoral officials and fabricated documents. False claims about the outcome circulated before the Electoral Commission had formally completed the declaration process. The United Nations was itself forced to clarify its position after misleading social-media posts claimed that UN observers had congratulated a candidate.

The problem was not confined to one political camp, and that is precisely the point. Misinformation does not need to convince everyone to become politically significant. If one voter believes the election has already been stolen, another believes a candidate has already won, a third fears that the internet is about to be shut down, and a fourth believes an international institution has endorsed a candidate, the common informational foundation on which democratic disagreement depends begins to disappear.

That may be digital misinformation's most dangerous effect: not simply introducing false information, but weakening citizens' ability to agree on what counts as evidence at all.

This is compounded by the emotional pull of political content. A claim that an election has been stolen or that the internet is about to be shut down generates far more urgency than a routine official announcement. Algorithms do not necessarily reward what is true; they often reward what captures attention. In an election, what captures attention can quickly become what is believed.

Zambia had anticipated some of these dangers. In February 2026, UNDP and the Panos Institute Southern Africa relaunched iVerify Zambia 2.0 as a strengthened national mechanism to combat misinformation, disinformation and hate speech ahead of the general elections. The initiative specifically recognised emerging threats associated with artificial intelligence, deepfakes, synthetic media, algorithmic amplification and coordinated inauthentic behaviour.

Connectivity alone cannot sustain a healthy democratic public sphere. Citizens need reliable information, not simply more information. Electoral commissions need credible and timely communication. Journalists and fact-checkers need the capacity to respond at the speed of social media. Political parties have a responsibility not to exploit uncertainty for partisan advantage, while technology companies must recognise that their platforms have become part of democracy's infrastructure.

Citizens have a responsibility too. Forwarding a message is no longer an entirely private act. The first line of defence against digital manipulation is often not the state, but the citizen who pauses before pressing "forward."

Who Governs the Digital Public Sphere?

This raises a question that conventional democratic theory has not fully confronted: who governs the digital spaces in which citizens increasingly exercise political agency?

A Zambian voter may discuss politics on Facebook, communicate through WhatsApp, watch campaign material on TikTok or YouTube, and search Google for candidate information. Yet none of these platforms is a Zambian public institution. Their rules, algorithms and moderation systems are largely determined beyond Zambia's borders.

This does not make these companies inherently anti-democratic. It illustrates something more fundamental: an increasing part of Africa's democratic conversation now takes place within infrastructure whose governance extends beyond national borders.

This is the democratic dimension of digital sovereignty.

Digital sovereignty is often discussed in terms of data localisation, cybersecurity or national control over technology. But it also has a democratic meaning. If citizens' political communication increasingly depends on privately controlled digital systems, then questions of accountability, transparency and rights within those systems become questions of democratic governance.

The issue is not whether governments should control the internet. It is whether citizens have meaningful rights, protections and agency within the systems through which public life increasingly operates.

Artificial Intelligence Changes the Equation

The false GEN-20 forms and fabricated communication attributed to State House demonstrated how easily documents can be manipulated to acquire an appearance of institutional authority. Artificial intelligence threatens to take this problem much further.

What may today be a fabricated letter or manipulated document could tomorrow become a convincing video of a candidate saying something they never said, a synthetic audio recording of an election official, or a fabricated government communication almost indistinguishable from an authentic one.

What happens when an algorithm determines which political information becomes visible? When synthetic media becomes difficult to distinguish from reality? When citizens increasingly rely on AI systems whose training data, institutional assumptions and governance structures were developed elsewhere?

These are questions of cognitive and democratic sovereignty.

A democracy requires citizens who can access information, evaluate competing claims and make political choices. If technological systems increasingly mediate that process, then the capacity to understand, scrutinise and govern those systems becomes essential to democratic resilience.

Africa's AI debate cannot therefore be reduced to innovation and economic competitiveness. It must also ask who controls the production, distribution and interpretation of political knowledge.

Democracy Requires More Than Digital Access

Zambia also demonstrates why connectivity alone cannot be equated with democratic deepening.

The country has a vibrant media environment and an increasingly connected population, but the AU-COMESA preliminary election observation statement noted stakeholders' concerns about the application of cyber-related legislation. According to the mission, concerns were raised that the legislation constrained political communication, limited freedom of expression and contributed to self-censorship among journalists and citizens.

A citizen may have a smartphone but little control over the data it generates. A voter may encounter thousands of political messages without knowing why particular content was selected for them. A government may digitise public services while retaining weak systems of transparency and accountability.

Digital democracy therefore requires more than access. It requires rights, transparency, accountability and institutional capacity.

Governments must be able to protect freedom of expression while responding to genuine threats of disinformation. Regulators must have the capacity to engage powerful technology companies. Universities and researchers must be able to scrutinise algorithms and AI systems. Civil society must be able to monitor both governments and platforms.

Most importantly, citizens must not become passive users of systems they do not understand.

From Digital Dependence to Democratic Agency

This is where technomultipolarity matters. Africa sits between competing technological ecosystems: Chinese telecommunications infrastructure, American platforms and AI systems, European regulatory models, Indian digital public infrastructure, and emerging technological ambitions from the Gulf and elsewhere.

Zambia's experience makes this convergence tangible. A voter can carry a Chinese-made smartphone, communicate through an American-owned platform, consume content shaped by algorithms developed elsewhere, and participate in an election administered by a national institution.

The technology is global. The democratic consequences are local.

Africa does not need to choose a single technological camp. It needs the capacity to engage multiple technological powers strategically. That requires investment in universities, local technology companies, digital public infrastructure, cybersecurity and independent regulatory institutions.

Technological sovereignty and democratic sovereignty are increasingly inseparable questions. A country that cannot understand, scrutinise or influence the systems governing its data, information environment and AI capabilities will struggle to exercise meaningful democratic control over the societies those systems shape.

Conclusion

The struggle for democracy in Africa has long centred on who controls the state. Increasingly, it is also about who controls the technologies through which citizens interact with the state, access information and communicate with one another.

My month in Zambia reinforced this reality. The election was simultaneously physical and digital: rallies and WhatsApp groups, campaign posters and TikTok videos, television debates and Facebook livestreams, polling stations and smartphones.

The ballot box, constitutions, parliament, courts and civil society remain indispensable. But democracy is now also being written in code.

That is the central insight of geosociotechnopolitics: technology is not external to political power. It is becoming one of its principal infrastructures.

Africa's challenge is not to reject digital technology, nor simply to choose between competing technological powers. It is to build the capacity to understand, govern and democratise the systems through which digital life is organised—and to ensure that technological transformation strengthens rather than weakens citizens' political agency.

If previous editions of The Thursday Briefing examined sovereignty in relation to infrastructure, knowledge and technology, the next question follows naturally: what does sovereignty mean when democracy itself is increasingly mediated by code?

Africa's democratic future may depend on how it answers that.

Dr. Blessing Vava is a scholar, governance practitioner, and researcher whose doctoral work developed geosociotechnopolitics as a framework for understanding the intersection of technology, society, and political power in an emerging technomultipolar world. He spent a month conducting field research on elections and digital public spheres in Zambia.

Sources

1. Electoral Commission of Zambia, 2026 Presidential Election Results and candidate information.

2. iVerify Zambia fact-checking and information-integrity materials relating to the 2026 general elections.

3. UNDP Zambia and Panos Institute Southern Africa, UNDP and Panos Institute Re-Launch iVerify Zambia 2.0 to Safeguard 2026 Elections, 17 February 2026.

4. AU-COMESA Election Observation Mission, Preliminary Statement to the 2026 Zambia General Elections.

5. Electoral Commission of Zambia statements and official communications during the post-election counting process.

Zambia at a Crossroads: Preserving Democracy Beyond the Ballot

Image: President Hakainde Hichilema Facebook page

By Dr Blessing Vava

I warned on the eve of polling day that Zambia’s 2026 election was likely to face disputes once the votes were counted. The issue was never simply whether Zambians would vote peacefully, but whether political actors and electoral institutions would manage the inevitable contest over the results without allowing disagreement to become confrontation.

For much of 13 August, the country appeared to pass that test. I spent time moving around Lusaka, observing the voting process and speaking to citizens at different polling stations. What stood out was the patience of ordinary voters. People queued, voted and went home. There was a palpable sense that the ballot offered a peaceful way of settling political differences.

But that calm is now being tested.

Early figures circulating from polling stations appeared to give incumbent President Hakainde Hichilema strong momentum, suggesting that he could be on course for victory. This outcome aligns closely with the structural analysis we outlined in our pre-election PARI-Africa briefing. We postulated that Hichilema maintained a distinct electoral edge, driven by a severely fragmented opposition field, incumbent organisational advantages and recent electoral delimitation reforms that expanded constituencies in key bases. While cost-of-living concerns created friction, the lack of a unified opposition candidate meant Hichilema was consistently positioned as the likely victor.

Opposition presidential candidate Brian Mundubile, however, released a seven-minute video claiming victory based on his party’s Parallel Voter Tabulation (PVT). His claim was subsequently reported by several media outlets.

Such unilateral declarations, outside the official declaration process, risk creating confusion and unnecessarily raising political temperatures. Zambia’s electoral laws provide mechanisms for dealing with disputed electoral conduct, and those mechanisms should be allowed to work. The Electoral Process Act No. 35 of 2016 establishes the legal framework governing the conduct, counting and announcement of election results.

The more serious concern is what is happening around the counting and verification process.

The Electoral Commission of Zambia (ECZ) has suspended the counting and announcement of results nationwide. In a statement signed by ECZ Chairperson Mwangala Zaloumis (SC), the Commission cited reports of violence against polling staff in some districts and the theft of marked ballot papers from ballot boxes. It said the suspension would be reviewed within 24 hours. The suspension has also been independently reported by Reuters and the Associated Press.

These developments closely reflect the structural analysis outlined in our pre-election PARI-Africa briefing. Our analysis anticipated that while voting day itself would be orderly, the collation phase would be the primary flashpoint because of institutional fragility and deep-seated political mistrust. We also highlighted how procedural delays by the ECZ could create an information vacuum, leaving the process vulnerable to social-media claims and competing tallies—a dynamic now playing out following Mundubile’s online announcement.

The ECZ is right to take threats against its staff and the security of electoral materials seriously. Yet the blanket suspension also carries its own danger.

Reports and allegations are now emerging from places including Mufulira, Chawama and Matero, as well as parts of North-Western and Northern provinces, involving alleged interference with ballot boxes, Gen 20 forms and the movement of electoral materials. These allegations were raised by Mundubile in his statement and should not be treated as established facts without independent verification. They do, however, require prompt and transparent investigation.

This is precisely where the ECZ’s communication becomes critical.

In my assessment, the Commission had, until this point, done a commendable job in managing a complicated national election. But it now risks tarnishing some of the credibility it has built if the public is left without regular and credible information about what is happening.

Information vacuums rarely remain empty. They are quickly filled by rumours, misinformation, competing party tallies and claims of electoral manipulation.

That is already becoming evident.

Having spoken to people in Lusaka during and after polling day, I was struck by how little ordinary citizens are asking for. They are not necessarily demanding that the ECZ announce a winner immediately. They simply want to know what is happening. They want to know whether their votes have been counted, where the results are coming from and why the process has stopped.

As we noted in our recent PARI-Africa briefing, the success of this election hinged not just on voting-day logistics, but on the ECZ’s capacity to maintain institutional resilience and transparent communication during high-pressure tallying. The current information vacuum illustrates precisely those structural risks.

The ECZ should therefore release verified results progressively as they come in. Where particular results cannot be released because of security concerns, discrepancies or the need for further verification, the Commission should explain this clearly.

Transparency and electoral integrity should not be presented as competing objectives. Transparency is part of protecting electoral integrity.

Political leaders also have a responsibility.

President Hakainde Hichilema has so far adopted a measured tone, describing the early figures as encouraging while urging Zambians to remain calm, patient and peaceful. His call for restraint is welcome.

But it must be matched by all political parties and their supporters.

Political leaders must stop inflammatory rhetoric and avoid language that can incite their supporters. They have a responsibility to lower political temperatures, not raise them. A disputed election must be contested through evidence, electoral procedures and the courts—not through threats, mobilisation or violence.

This is particularly important given the inflammatory rhetoric witnessed before polling day, including statements attributed to Binwell Mpundu, a senior figure in Mundubile’s political camp. Reports circulated of a Facebook video in which Mpundu made remarks interpreted as threatening violence. Because this concerns a politically sensitive allegation, the original material and its context should be independently verified before drawing definitive conclusions.

Such rhetoric, however, has no place in a democratic contest.

The warning signs from elsewhere in the region should not be ignored. Recent experiences in Tanzania and Mozambique illustrate the risks that can arise when electoral disputes, political mistrust and inflammatory rhetoric combine. Zambia should not assume that its reputation for peaceful political transitions makes it immune to such pressures.

Zambia must not go down that road.

I therefore believe the ECZ should urgently reconsider the blanket suspension of results. Where results have been verified, they should be released progressively. Where there are genuine disputes, those disputes should be identified and investigated transparently. Every ballot box and electoral record must be accounted for, and political party agents must be allowed to perform their lawful functions.

The solution to uncertainty is not more uncertainty.

Zambians have voted. They deserve to know what they voted for. The ECZ must provide credible and timely information; political leaders must exercise restraint; and every legitimate dispute must be resolved through lawful and peaceful means.

The election was peaceful at the polling stations. The challenge now is to keep it peaceful after the votes have been cast.

That is the responsibility of the ECZ, political parties, security institutions, the media—and ultimately all of us.

The credibility of Zambia’s democracy, and the peace of the nation, depend on it.

Ends/

About the author: 

Dr. Blessing Vava is a Zimbabwean scholar, researcher, and political commentator specialising in the intersection of technology, power, politics, and society across Africa. During his recent research placement in Lusaka, Zambia, during the pre-election period, together with Dr Tamuka Chirimambowa, he co-authored a strategic PARI-Africa analysis examining the key electoral challenges, governance trends, and democratic trajectory leading into the 2026 Zambian general election. He can be contacted on blessingvava@gmail.com

A Mirror Across the Zambezi: Why Zambia’s August 13 Vote Matters to Zimbabwe and SADC

By Blessing Vava

              Image: President Hakainde Hichilema Facebook page

On August 13, 2026, Zambians will walk into voting booths across the country, but the quiet moment when a voter marks their ballot in Lusaka or Kasama will resonate far beyond Zambia’s borders. From the bustling Chirundu border post to the streets of Harare, Pretoria, and Gaborone, this election is a watershed moment for all of Southern Africa. The outcome will shape not only Zambia's future but also the political and economic trajectory of the wider region.

The election is more than a contest for political office. It is a test of whether Southern Africa can consolidate democratic governance, sustain economic reform, and build resilience in the face of mounting debt, climate change, and geopolitical competition. For us in Zimbabwe, Zambia is far more than a neighbouring state; it is our mirror, reflecting both our shared struggles and our possible futures.

Our connection runs deep into history. We share a common colonial past bound together during the days of the Federation of Rhodesia and Nyasaland—when Zambia was Northern Rhodesia, and Zimbabwe was Southern Rhodesia. Beyond shared administrative borders, Zambia served as the bedrock of Zimbabwe’s liberation struggle. During our darkest days under minority rule, Zambia opened its arms and sheltered Zimbabwean freedom fighters. Training camps such as Mkushi, Freedom Camp, and Solwezi remain enduring symbols of Zambia's contribution to Zimbabwe's liberation struggle. Because of that shared history and destiny, what happens in Zambia will always matter deeply to Zimbabwe.

Yet at the state-to-state level, diplomatic relations between Harare and Lusaka have hit their lowest ebb in decades. The rift opened when President Hakainde Hichilema’s UPND defeated the Patriotic Front (PF)—a party with deep ideological and political ties to ZANU-PF. Relations deteriorated sharply when President Hichilema, acting as SADC Organ Troika Chairperson, appointed Dr. Nevers Mumba to head the SADC Election Observer Mission (SEOM) for Zimbabwe’s 2023 harmonised elections. When the SEOM preliminary report cited significant irregularities and declared the polls inconsistent with regional standards, ZANU-PF launched a fierce campaign against Hichilema and Mumba, labelling them Western puppets seeking to destabilise Zimbabwe and the subcontinent. State media narratives routinely targeted the UPND administration, while reports surfaced of ZANU-PF backing the political comeback of the late President Edgar Chagwa Lungu. ZANU-PF even attempted to mobilise former liberation movements across SADC to isolate Zambia diplomatically. This election has therefore become a geopolitical contest over the future direction of SADC—whether regional politics will continue to be shaped primarily by liberation movement solidarity or increasingly by institutional accountability, constitutionalism, and democratic norms.

That historical mirror has become strikingly clear following Zimbabwe’s enactment of the Constitution Amendment (No. 3) Act. By extending President Emmerson Mnangagwa’s term with two more years and replacing direct popular elections for the presidency with selection by Parliament, Zimbabwe deepened a regional trend toward executive consolidation and the erosion of civic power. The contrast across the Zambezi River could not be sharper. As ordinary Zimbabweans watch their right to directly elect a head of state legislated away, Zambia’s election stands out as one of the few remaining direct presidential ballots in our immediate neighbourhood where voters still hold the ultimate power to keep or change their leadership through the ballot box.

That shared reality is visible in the daily lives of ordinary citizens. When water levels at Kariba Dam fall, households and businesses on both sides of the Zambezi feel the impact. The lights go out in a barber shop in Kalingalinga, Lusaka, just as they do in a salon in Glen View, Harare. A welder in Ndola confronts many of the same challenges as a manufacturer in Southerton: unreliable electricity, climate-induced droughts, rising food prices, and youth unemployment.

In 2021, Zambia chose a difficult but disciplined path of debt restructuring, fiscal transparency, and engagement with international creditors. Rather than remaining an abstract macroeconomic exercise, these reforms freed up resources for the Constituency Development Fund (CDF), supporting the construction of maternity wards in rural clinics, the purchase of school desks in communities such as Choma and Chipata, and helping to restore investor confidence.

For Zimbabweans, the contrast is instructive. Communities from Binga to Chipinge continue to struggle with deteriorating roads, under-equipped clinics, and unreliable electricity. While the contexts differ, both countries face the same question: how can limited public resources be managed to deliver visible improvements in citizens' lives?

Today, the opposition under Brian Mundubile and the National Reconciliation Party for Unity and Prosperity (NRPUP)  promises a return to the policies of the late President Edgar Lungu. Such a course would mean a return to non-transparent borrowing, unpaid local contractors, default, and a crushing US$17 billion debt crisis. If Zambia abandons fiscal reform now, international lenders may question the durability of economic reform in the region, increasing borrowing costs for neighbouring governments and businesses seeking investment.

Beyond economics, this election tests the strength of democratic transfer in a region where political space is rapidly shrinking. In 2021, Zambia reminded SADC that a peaceful transfer of power to an opposition party was entirely possible without plunging a nation into violence. August 13th is the re-election test of that model. If Zambians vote based on policy and track records rather than anger or political rhetoric, it solidifies democratic norms across the entire region. For Zimbabwe, Malawi and Mozambique, Zambia's election offers an important regional benchmark. As countries across Southern Africa continue to debate electoral reforms, institutional independence, media freedom, and democratic accountability, a credible election in Zambia strengthens regional expectations that political competition should be peaceful, transparent, and constitutional. Conversely, instability or disputed outcomes would weaken democratic norms across SADC.

 

Cross-border traders travelling through Chirundu, Victoria Falls, Livingstone and Beitbridge understand this interdependence better than anyone. Exchange-rate volatility, customs delays, rising fuel costs, or policy uncertainty in one country quickly affect prices, profits, and livelihoods across the border. For many informal traders and transport operators, regional integration is not an abstract policy objective—it is the difference between making a living and going home empty-handed. Campaigning on emotion rather than credible policy proposals creates uncertainty that ultimately hurts businesses and households on both sides of the border.

Beyond economics and elections lies a deeper question of dignity and political culture. The mortal remains of former President Edgar Lungu have tragically become the centrepiece of the campaign trail. Key figures among former Patriotic Front ranks, including Brian Mundubile and Makebi Zulu, have actively capitalised on this unfortunate circumstance. Even after a South African court ruled that the Lungu family holds the legal right to lay the former head of state to rest at a place of their choice, there appears to have been a concerted effort by some political actors to use his burial to mobilise political sympathy and electoral support for the NRPUP.

President Hakainde Hichilema and the Zambian government indicated their willingness to accord the former head of state full military honours in keeping with regional custom. Yet when a family's loss becomes an electoral weapon, statecraft loses its dignity.

When personal grief becomes a campaign strategy, democratic politics is diminished. Zimbabwe offers its own lesson. The disputes surrounding former President Robert Mugabe's burial in 2019 illustrated how the legacy of national leaders can become entangled in contemporary politics. Such episodes remind us that democratic maturity is measured not only by how societies elect leaders, but also by how they honour them after they leave office. How a society honours its past leaders reflects directly on how it values its living citizens.

Ultimately, this election poses three fundamental questions for voters in Zambia and citizens across SADC: Will we choose credible plans over temporary anger, recognising that while anger fills rallies, only a clear strategy builds a country? Will we choose credible solutions over nostalgia, recognising that yesterday's politics cannot solve today's challenges? And will we protect hard-won progress, understanding that while economic reform is demanding, reversing course is far more painful?

Zambia's election reminds us that in an interconnected Southern Africa, no democracy exists in isolation. The choices citizens make in one country inevitably influence the opportunities and challenges facing its neighbours.

On 13 August, Zambians will choose their next government. They will also send a message about the future of governance, economic reform, and democracy in Southern Africa. For Zimbabwe, the election is a reminder that our destinies are intertwined. Our rivers, power stations, trade corridors, and shared history bind our futures more closely than national borders sometimes suggest. Political choices made in Lusaka inevitably shape realities in Harare. Zambia's vote is therefore not merely a national event but a regional moment. When Zambia succeeds, Southern Africa is stronger. When Zambia falters, its neighbours inevitably feel the consequences.

About the Author

Dr. Blessing Vava is Executive Director of the Southern Africa Coalition for Democracy and Accountability (SACDA) and a public policy researcher specialising in African democracy, digital governance, and political economy. He writes in his personal capacity and can be contacted at blessingvava@gmail.com

The Thursday Briefing: The New Digital Scramble for Africa: Geosociotechnopolitics and the Contest for Africa's Future

By Dr Blessing Vava 

A university student in Lusaka, Zambia begins the day with a Huawei smartphone, submits an assignment through Microsoft OneDrive, searches Google Scholar, pays for lunch using mobile money and later asks ChatGPT to summarise a research paper. In Mbare, Zimbabwe, a young entrepreneur advertises products on Facebook, sources goods from Chinese online marketplaces, receives payments through EcoCash and relies on Starlink to stay connected. In Gokwe, a farmer checks satellite weather forecasts before deciding when to plant.

None of these actions appears geopolitical. Yet together they reveal one of the defining realities of the twenty-first century: Africans increasingly live, work and transact through digital systems designed, financed and governed beyond the continent's borders.

This is the new scramble for Africa—less visible than its nineteenth-century predecessor, but no less consequential.

Unlike the nineteenth-century scramble, the contest is no longer centred on territorial conquest. It is increasingly about control over data, artificial intelligence, cloud computing, satellite connectivity, digital infrastructure, critical minerals and the standards that govern them. In the digital age, control over these systems is becoming as strategically significant as control over land, railways and ports once was.

Over the past five editions of The Thursday Briefing, I have argued that this transformation cannot be understood through conventional geopolitics alone. Through the framework of geosociotechnopolitics, I have explored how technology is reshaping power, sovereignty and governance across Africa. This week's briefing extends that argument by asking a broader question: What does the new scramble for Africa look like, and how should the continent respond?

From Territory to Technological Systems

The first Scramble for Africa, formalised at the Berlin Conference of 1884–1885, was driven by the pursuit of territory, minerals and trade routes. Railways, ports and telegraph lines were built primarily to facilitate extraction and imperial administration.

Today's contest follows an entirely different logic—one in which technological systems have become the new infrastructure of power.

No foreign power is redrawing Africa’s borders. Instead, governments and technology companies are competing to build and shape the digital systems that increasingly underpin economies, governance and everyday life. Fibre-optic cables, cloud infrastructure, satellite internet, artificial intelligence, payment systems, digital identity platforms and data centres have become the strategic infrastructure of the digital age.

Viewed individually, these investments appear to be ordinary commercial initiatives. Taken together, however, they reveal a profound shift in the geography of power. Influence no longer rests solely on controlling territory. It increasingly depends on who controls data, algorithms, cloud infrastructure, digital platforms and the standards that govern them.

The shift is already visible across Africa. In Zimbabwe, debates that once centred on mobile coverage and internet access now focus on cybersecurity, artificial intelligence, digital payments, biometric identity and data governance. Zambia, Kenya and South Africa are following similar trajectories as governments and global technology firms reshape the continent's digital landscape.

These developments illustrate why geosociotechnopolitics departs from classical geopolitics. Traditional geopolitics asks who controls territory. Geosociotechnopolitics asks who controls the technological systems through which societies communicate, transact, govern, innovate and increasingly think. In the digital century, these questions are becoming just as consequential as the ownership of territory or strategic minerals.

Why Africa Matters

Africa’s strategic importance is often explained by its market potential. With the world’s youngest population, rapid urbanisation and expanding internet access, the continent represents one of the largest future markets for digital services.

Yet Africa is far more than a market. It is becoming indispensable to the global digital economy because artificial intelligence depends on high-performance computing, reliable energy, sophisticated data centres and the critical minerals used to manufacture semiconductors and advanced technologies.

The Democratic Republic of Congo supplies much of the world’s cobalt. Zambia’s copper is essential to electrical systems and telecommunications. Zimbabwe has emerged as a major lithium producer, while Mozambique and Madagascar contribute significant graphite reserves. These resources are no longer merely commodities; they are strategic assets in the global AI economy.

At the same time, the competition extends well beyond minerals. Chinese firms continue expanding telecommunications infrastructure through the Digital Silk Road. American companies are investing in AI, cloud computing and digital services. Europe is shaping global digital regulation and standards. Gulf states are financing AI infrastructure, while India is exporting digital public infrastructure. Africa has become one of the principal arenas where these competing technological ecosystems converge.

This reality is experienced every day. A student may use a Chinese smartphone, Google’s search engine, Microsoft’s cloud, Meta’s social platforms and locally developed mobile money—all within a single day. These routine interactions place millions of Africans within overlapping digital ecosystems governed by different companies, jurisdictions and geopolitical interests.

The new scramble is not simply about who sells Africa technology. It is about who designs, owns and governs the technological architecture through which Africa's future will be organised.

Beyond Competition: Building African Digital Power

History’s lesson is not that Africa should fear global competition. It is that the continent must engage it from a position of capability rather than dependence.

Infrastructure alone will not achieve this. Fibre-optic cables, mobile networks and data centres are essential, but they are only the foundations of digital transformation. Africa’s long-term competitiveness will depend on whether it can build the institutions that create technology, produce knowledge and shape innovation.

Governments must treat digital infrastructure, artificial intelligence and cloud computing as strategic national assets. Universities should become centres of AI research, innovation and policy experimentation. The private sector should be supported not only to develop digital applications but also to build platforms, cloud services and advanced technologies that generate value within Africa.

Regional cooperation is equally important. The African Continental Free Trade Area provides a unique opportunity to harmonise digital standards, strengthen cybersecurity, facilitate trusted data governance and create integrated digital markets capable of competing globally.

None of this requires Africa to reject international partnerships. Cooperation with China, the United States, Europe, India and others will remain essential. The challenge is to ensure that these partnerships build African capability, deepen local innovation and strengthen institutional resilience rather than reinforce technological dependence.

This is the central insight of geosociotechnopolitics: technology is never merely about innovation or commerce. It is about power—who exercises it, who benefits from it and who writes the rules that govern it.

Conclusion

The nineteenth-century Scramble for Africa sought to control territory. The twenty-first-century scramble seeks to shape the digital systems through which economies function, governments govern, and societies increasingly think.

History, however, need not repeat itself.

Africa enters this era with immense strategic advantages: a youthful population, expanding digital markets, abundant critical minerals, growing research capacity and a vibrant innovation ecosystem. Whether these become the foundations of prosperity or simply fuel the ambitions of others will depend on the choices African leaders, businesses, universities and citizens make today.

The challenge is not to resist technological change or choose between competing global powers. It is to build the institutional capacity, technological capability and intellectual confidence to engage the world on Africa's own terms.

If previous editions of The Thursday Briefing argued that Africa must rethink sovereignty in the digital age, this article advances the argument further: Africa must also help shape the technological order rather than merely adapt to it.

The digital revolution has already arrived. The question is no longer whether Africa will participate in it, but whether it will remain a theatre of digital competition or emerge as a co-architect of the technomultipolar world. The answer will depend not on the ambitions of Beijing, Washington or Brussels, but on the choices Africans make today.

 That is the defining geosociotechnopolitical question of our time. ENDS

Previous editions in this series

• From Zhing Zhong to Technomultipolarity: Geosociotechnopolitics and the Future of China–Africa ICT Relations 

• The Constitution of Code: A Geosociotechnopolitical Perspective on Digital Constitutionalism in Africa 

• Beyond Infrastructure: Digital Sovereignty and the Politics of Ownership in Africa's Technomultipolar Age 

• Who Thinks for Africa? Artificial Intelligence, Cognitive Sovereignty and the Battle for Africa's Future

About the Author

Dr Blessing Vava is a communication scholar, researcher and governance practitioner. He holds a PhD in Communication Studies from the University of Johannesburg, where his doctoral research developed the concept of geosociotechnopolitics as a framework for understanding the intersection of technology, power and society in an emerging technomultipolar world. He writes The Thursday Briefing, a bi-weekly series exploring digital governance, artificial intelligence, geopolitical change and Africa's place in the evolving global technological order.

The Thursday Briefing: Who Thinks for Africa? Artificial Intelligence, Cognitive Sovereignty and the Battle for Africa's Future

By Dr Blessing Vava

Hardly a month passes without an African government unveiling an artificial intelligence strategy, commissioning a data centre or announcing a partnership with a global technology company. Zimbabwe is no exception. From the digitisation of government services to the growing use of AI in universities, banks, newsrooms and even Parliament, artificial intelligence has firmly entered our national vocabulary. Across the continent, Kenya is consolidating its position as a technology hub, Rwanda continues to champion digital innovation, Nigeria's technology ecosystem is attracting global investment, while South Africa remains home to some of Africa's leading AI research institutions according to recent assessments by the World Bank, UNESCO, and the Oxford Insights Government AI Readiness Index. On the surface, these developments suggest that Africa is finally claiming its place in the global digital economy.

Whereas beneath this optimism lies a more fundamental question that receives far less attention: whose intelligence are we actually adopting? More importantly, who determines how that intelligence understands African societies, interprets African realities and increasingly shapes African decision-making?

These are not abstract philosophical questions. Artificial intelligence is becoming the invisible infrastructure of the twenty-first century. As Mustafa Suleyman (2023) argues in The Coming Wave, AI is becoming a general-purpose technology comparable to electricity and the internet. It increasingly influences how governments deliver public services, how businesses allocate resources, how financial institutions assess risk, how news is produced and consumed, and how citizens interact with the digital world. If electricity powered the industrial age, artificial intelligence is powering the age of intelligent decision-making. As The Coming Wave argues, artificial intelligence is emerging as a general-purpose technology comparable to electricity and the internet—one that will reshape virtually every sector of society.

For that reason, the global contest has moved well beyond debates about internet connectivity or digital infrastructure. The strategic question is no longer simply who owns fibre-optic cables or data centres. It is who develops the algorithms, controls the data, trains the models and establishes the rules that govern artificial intelligence. In short, the struggle is shifting from ownership of infrastructure to ownership of intelligence.

In my previous Thursday Briefing, I argued that digital sovereignty cannot be reduced to the ownership of technological infrastructure. The concept has also gained prominence in European Union digital policy debates and UNESCO's work on digital governance.  A country may host its own data centres yet remain dependent on foreign software, foreign platforms and foreign algorithms. Ownership without agency is simply another form of dependence. Artificial intelligence extends that argument even further. If digital sovereignty concerns control over digital infrastructure, then the next frontier is what I describe as cognitive sovereignty—the capacity of societies to produce, shape and govern the intelligence that increasingly mediates political, economic and social life.

This idea builds directly on my doctoral concept of geosociotechnopolitics, which argues that technology, society and political power have become inseparable. In today's world, power is exercised not only through territory, military capability or economic strength, but increasingly through algorithms, platforms, data and artificial intelligence. AI is therefore more than another technological innovation; it is becoming a geopolitical and governance instrument that quietly redistributes power from public institutions to the technological systems shaping everyday life.

Zimbabwe already provides important examples of this transformation. Banks use machine learning to detect fraud, newsrooms rely on AI-assisted transcription and translation, universities are grappling with generative AI in teaching and research, while farmers increasingly access AI-powered weather and agricultural applications. These innovations undoubtedly improve efficiency, but they also reveal a deeper reality: much of the intelligence driving these systems is designed elsewhere, trained on datasets that seldom reflect African realities and governed by priorities that are rarely African. Similar trends have been documented by UNDP Zimbabwe and Zimbabwe's National ICT Policy. These trends are consistent with Zimbabwe's National ICT Policy and recent assessments by UNDP Zimbabwe, which identify artificial intelligence and digital transformation as increasingly important components of the country's development agenda.

This should concern us not because foreign technology is inherently problematic, but because history demonstrates that technological dependence often produces economic and political dependence. During colonialism, Africa exported raw materials while importing manufactured goods. Today, the continent increasingly generates vast quantities of digital data—from mobile money, healthcare, agriculture, satellite imagery and social media—yet much of the intelligence derived from that data is processed elsewhere before being sold back to African societies as commercial AI services. Scholars such as Nick Couldry and Ulises A. Mejias describe this phenomenon as data colonialism—a new form of extraction in which data, rather than land or minerals, becomes the principal resource from which value is generated.

Africa's strategic importance in the AI age extends beyond data. According to the International Energy Agency (IEA), the United States Geological Survey (USGS) and the African Development Bank (AfDB), Africa occupies a central position in global critical mineral supply chains that underpin the digital economy. The continent is the world's principal supplier of many of the minerals essential to artificial intelligence and advanced computing. The Democratic Republic of Congo dominates global cobalt production; South Africa and Gabon supply much of the world's manganese; South Africa and Zimbabwe hold some of the largest platinum group metal reserves; Mozambique and Madagascar are major graphite producers; Zimbabwe has emerged as one of Africa's leading lithium producers alongside Namibia, while Zambia remains indispensable to global copper supply chains. Several African countries also possess significant rare earth deposits. Together, these minerals underpin semiconductors, batteries, smartphones, electric vehicles, telecommunications equipment, data centres and the advanced computing infrastructure on which artificial intelligence depends. Yet, as in previous eras of resource extraction, Africa continues to export the raw materials while importing the high-value technologies they make possible.

The implications are profound. In the industrial age, those who controlled factories accumulated wealth. In the information age, those who controlled data accumulated influence. In the age of artificial intelligence, those who control cognition itself—the ability to generate knowledge, process information and automate decision-making—will increasingly shape the international order. Africa is therefore no longer simply competing to digitise. It is competing to ensure that its understanding of itself is not outsourced to algorithms developed elsewhere.

Universities, Constitutional Governance and Africa's Search for Cognitive Sovereignty

If Africa is serious about shaping its place in the age of artificial intelligence, then the conversation must extend far beyond ministries of ICT and technology start-ups. AI is not simply an engineering challenge; it is a governance challenge. It raises fundamental questions about who produces knowledge, whose values are embedded in digital systems and who ultimately exercises power in an increasingly algorithmic society.

One of Africa's enduring development mistakes has been to prioritise acquiring technology over producing knowledge. Governments have celebrated new digital platforms, fibre-optic networks and smart government programmes, yet invested far less in the universities, research institutions and innovation ecosystems that generate indigenous technological capability. The result has been a continent that consumes technology more rapidly than it creates it.

Artificial intelligence exposes the limits of this model. AI systems are not built overnight; they emerge from decades of investment in universities, scientific research, computing infrastructure and public policy. Silicon Valley grew out of research institutions such as Stanford and Berkeley as much as venture capital. As documented by Margaret O'Mara in The Code. China's advances in AI reflect decades of sustained investment in higher education, national laboratories and strategic industrial policy, a trajectory documented by AI Superpowers and reinforced by China's subsequent national AI strategy consistent with analyses by Kai-Fu Lee in AI Superpowers. Even Europe's growing influence stems less from producing dominant AI companies than from shaping global rules through scholarship, law and regulation.

The lesson is simple: digital transformation without knowledge production is unsustainable.

Zimbabwe illustrates both the challenge and the opportunity. Despite years of economic hardship, the country continues to produce highly skilled graduates in engineering, computer science, law, economics and the social sciences. Zimbabwean professionals continue to occupy influential positions across global technology, business and academia. Dr James Manyika serves as Senior Vice President for Research, Technology and Society at Google. Ralph Mupita leads the MTN Group as President and CEO. Strive Masiyiwa built one of Africa's most successful telecommunications companies, while Professor Arthur Mutambara serves as Director of the Institute for the Future of Knowledge at the University of Johannesburg. The problem is not a shortage of talent, but the inability to retain, finance and strategically deploy that talent in support of national development.

The same story can be told across Africa. South African universities remain continental leaders in AI research. Kenya's innovation ecosystem continues to develop globally recognised digital solutions. Nigeria's technology sector has produced companies with international reach, while Rwanda has deliberately positioned itself as a laboratory for digital governance. These examples demonstrate that Africa possesses the intellectual capacity to compete. What has often been lacking is sustained investment, policy coordination and long-term political commitment.

This is precisely why geosociotechnopolitics insists that technology cannot be separated from society or governance. A society that neglects research inevitably becomes dependent on knowledge produced elsewhere. Conversely, societies that invest in research acquire not only technological capability but also strategic autonomy.

The African Union has recognised this reality through its Continental Artificial Intelligence Strategy (2025), which seeks to ensure that AI advances African development while reflecting African priorities, values and governance principles. That is an important beginning, but strategies alone will not secure cognitive sovereignty. Governments must treat research and development as strategic investments rather than discretionary expenditure. Universities require modern computing infrastructure, competitive research funding and stronger partnerships with industry. Equally important, Africa must create conditions that encourage its brightest researchers to innovate at home rather than abroad. The challenge is not only economic; it is constitutional.

Throughout this series, I have argued that constitutions are not simply legal texts governing elections or state institutions. They are frameworks for organising power and protecting citizens from its abuse. As artificial intelligence becomes embedded in governance, constitutionalism must evolve alongside technological change.

Consider a future in which AI assists governments to allocate social welfare, identify tax fraud, assess procurement risks or support judicial administration. Such systems may improve efficiency, but they also raise profound constitutional questions. Who is accountable when an algorithm makes a flawed decision? How do citizens challenge automated decisions? How should principles such as equality, transparency and due process apply when decisions are influenced by machine learning systems that even their developers cannot fully explain? These concerns are no longer confined to academic debate. They are reflected in international governance frameworks such as the OECD AI Principles, UNESCO's Recommendation on the Ethics of Artificial Intelligence (2021) and the European Union's AI Act, all of which emphasise transparency, accountability, human oversight and the protection of fundamental rights in the development and deployment of AI systems.

 These trends are consistent with Zimbabwe's National ICT Policy and recent assessments by UNDP Zimbabwe, which identify artificial intelligence and digital transformation as increasingly important components of the country's development agenda. These concerns are increasingly reflected in international governance frameworks, including the OECD AI Principles, UNESCO's Recommendation on the Ethics of Artificial Intelligence (2021) and the European Union's AI Act, all of which emphasise transparency, accountability, human oversight and the protection of fundamental rights in the design and deployment of AI systems.

These are no longer theoretical concerns. Governments around the world are already experimenting with AI-assisted public administration. Africa has an opportunity to ensure that these technologies strengthen democratic governance rather than undermine it.

Zimbabwe's constitutional experience offers an important reminder. The 2013 Constitution emerged from an extensive consultative process intended to anchor governance in constitutionalism, accountability and citizen participation. Those same principles should guide the governance of artificial intelligence. Technology must remain subordinate to constitutional values—not the other way around.

This is why I argue for digital constitutionalism: the application of constitutional principles to emerging digital technologies. Building on the work of legal scholar Giovanni De Gregorio, digital constitutionalism seeks to ensure that constitutional values continue to govern the exercise of power in digital environments. It does not seek to obstruct innovation. Rather, it ensures that technological progress remains consistent with fundamental values such as human dignity, privacy, equality, freedom of expression and democratic accountability. Ultimately, cognitive sovereignty begins not with algorithms but with ideas. It is built in universities, research institutes, policy think tanks and innovation hubs long before it appears in software code. If Africa is to shape the future of artificial intelligence rather than merely consume it, it must first strengthen the institutions that produce knowledge itself.

From Digital Consumers to Architects of Africa's Future

The temptation when discussing artificial intelligence is to focus almost exclusively on technology. We debate algorithms, computing power, large language models and the latest breakthroughs emerging from Silicon Valley or Shenzhen. But history teaches us that societies are not transformed simply because they adopt new technologies. They are transformed because they build the institutions, develop the human capital and exercise the political imagination necessary to govern those technologies in ways that advance national development.

That is where Africa's conversation on artificial intelligence must now begin.

For too long, our digital ambitions have been measured by statistics that tell only part of the story. We celebrate the number of internet users, the kilometres of fibre-optic cable laid, the growth of mobile money and the arrival of another multinational technology company. These are important milestones, but they are not the ultimate measure of digital progress. Infrastructure is the foundation, not the destination.

The real question is whether Africa is becoming a producer of intelligence or merely a sophisticated consumer of intelligence produced elsewhere.

That distinction will define the continent's place in the twenty-first century.

Throughout Africa's post-colonial history, development has often been framed around natural resources, mining and agriculture. Zimbabwe has long been associated with gold, platinum, lithium, diamonds and its historic role as the region's breadbasket. Zambia by copper. Botswana by diamonds. The Democratic Republic of Congo by cobalt. Yet the strategic resource of the digital age is no longer found beneath the ground. It lies in the ability of societies to generate knowledge, produce innovation and govern technology. According to the International Energy Agency (IEA), the United States Geological Survey (USGS) and the African Development Bank, Africa occupies a central position in global critical mineral supply chains.

Artificial intelligence makes this reality unmistakable.

The countries shaping the future of AI are not necessarily those with the richest mineral deposits. They are those that have consistently invested in education, scientific research, computing infrastructure and innovation ecosystems. Their greatest asset is not simply technology; it is the institutional capacity to produce new knowledge continuously.

Africa possesses enormous potential. It has the world's youngest population and a growing generation of engineers, computer scientists, lawyers, economists and entrepreneurs. Innovation hubs are expanding across Lagos, Nairobi, Kigali, Cape Town, Cairo and Accra, while Zimbabwe continues to produce professionals whose expertise is recognised globally.

The challenge, therefore, is not capability. It is strategic coordination.

Too often, Africa exports its brightest minds just as it has historically exported its raw materials, with some examples of Zimbabweans mentioned earlier. The continent contributes talent to the world's leading universities and technology companies while struggling to create comparable research ecosystems at home. This intellectual migration mirrors older patterns of economic dependency, where value is created elsewhere from African resources—whether minerals or human capital.

Breaking that cycle requires a different political vision. Governments must begin treating universities as strategic national assets rather than simply teaching institutions. Research and development should be viewed as investments in sovereignty, not discretionary expenditure. If artificial intelligence is becoming the operating system of the global economy, then research capacity is as important to national security today as roads, railways and power stations were during earlier periods of industrialisation.

The private sector also has a critical role. Innovation rarely flourishes in isolation. It emerges where governments, universities, entrepreneurs and investors collaborate around a shared national purpose. Africa has already demonstrated this through mobile financial innovation. Kenya's M-Pesa transformed financial inclusion and inspired digital payment systems across the continent, including Zimbabwe's EcoCash. The next challenge is to replicate that success in artificial intelligence, ensuring that Africa becomes a creator of AI solutions rather than merely a market for them.

This also demands a broader understanding of sovereignty.

For generations, sovereignty was understood primarily in territorial terms. States protected borders, controlled natural resources and exercised authority within defined geographical boundaries. Digital technologies have fundamentally altered that understanding. Today, algorithms developed in California influence conversations in Harare. AI models trained in Beijing support business decisions in Lusaka. Data generated in Bulawayo may be processed on servers located thousands of kilometres away.

Geosociotechnopolitics argues that power is increasingly exercised through technological ecosystems that shape communication, commerce, governance and public opinion. Nations therefore compete not only over territory and resources but also over data, standards, algorithms and digital knowledge. Sovereignty in the digital age is therefore as much intellectual as it is territorial.

This is where cognitive sovereignty assumes its full significance. Cognitive sovereignty is not about technological isolation or digital nationalism. Africa cannot and should not withdraw from global scientific collaboration. Progress has always depended on the exchange of ideas. Rather, cognitive sovereignty means participating in those global networks from a position of confidence rather than dependence. It means ensuring that African societies retain the capacity to define their own priorities, generate their own knowledge and build technologies that reflect their own realities.

Artificial intelligence should increasingly understand African languages, legal traditions, health systems, agricultural practices and cultural contexts—not as afterthoughts, but as integral components of global knowledge production.

The emergence of technomultipolarity provides Africa with a rare historical opportunity. The rules governing artificial intelligence have not yet been settled. International standards remain contested, and competing powers continue to shape different models of digital governance. Africa therefore enters this debate at a moment when meaningful influence is still possible.

The challenge is to move beyond choosing between Washington, Beijing or Brussels. None of these choices, by themselves, constitutes a development strategy. Africa's long-term interests will be better served by building indigenous capability while engaging confidently with every centre of technological innovation.

Zimbabwe, like much of Africa, stands at this crossroads. The decisions taken today about education, research, digital governance and artificial intelligence will shape the country's development trajectory for decades. The question is no longer whether AI will transform Zimbabwean society. That transformation is already underway. The real question is whether Zimbabwe will simply consume it or actively shape it.

That responsibility extends beyond government. Universities must prepare graduates capable of leading AI research. Civil society must engage debates on digital rights, algorithmic accountability and data governance. Legislatures must ensure that emerging technologies remain subject to constitutional oversight.

Above all, African scholars must become more confident producers of ideas. We should not merely apply theories developed elsewhere to African realities. We must increasingly generate concepts capable of explaining our own experience while enriching global scholarship. That conviction lies at the heart of geosociotechnopolitics. It emerged from the recognition that existing frameworks no longer adequately explain the relationship between technology, society and political power in an increasingly digital world.

Ultimately, Africa's digital future will not be determined by the number of data centres it builds or the speed of its internet connections. It will be determined by whether the continent develops the confidence and capacity to become a producer of knowledge rather than merely a consumer of technology.

The struggle for Africa's future has always been about agency—the ability to define our own priorities, imagine our own future and shape the forces transforming our societies. Artificial intelligence has simply moved that struggle into a new arena.

The challenge before us is therefore not simply to build smarter machines.

It is to build smarter societies.

Because in the technomultipolar age, those who shape intelligence will increasingly shape history. The question Africa must answer is not whether it will participate in that future, but whether it will help write it.

Conclusion

Artificial intelligence is often presented as a technological revolution. In reality, it is a governance revolution, reshaping how power is exercised, knowledge is produced and societies make decisions.

For Africa, the challenge is no longer catching up with the digital world. It is ensuring that the continent helps define it. The transition to technomultipolarity provides a rare opportunity because the rules governing AI remain unsettled. African states, universities, innovators and policymakers still have space to shape that future.

That requires a different understanding of sovereignty. Digital sovereignty cannot end with fibre-optic cables, cloud infrastructure or data centres. Those are essential foundations, but the true measure of sovereignty is the ability to produce knowledge, govern emerging technologies and shape the intelligence that increasingly mediates political, economic and social life.

Zimbabwe illustrates both the promise and the challenge. It possesses the talent, entrepreneurial energy and constitutional foundations to become an active participant in Africa's digital future. What is needed is sustained investment in research, stronger collaboration between universities, industry and government, and the confidence to produce ideas rather than simply import them.

That is ultimately what geosociotechnopolitics seeks to explain. Technology is no longer separate from society or politics; it has become one of the principal arenas through which power is exercised. If Africa is to secure genuine cognitive sovereignty, it must become not merely a consumer of artificial intelligence, but a producer of the ideas, institutions and innovations that shape it.

Because in the technomultipolar age, those who shape intelligence will increasingly shape history. The question is not whether Africa will participate in that future, but whether it will help define it. End 

About the Author

Dr Blessing Vava is a communication scholar and governance practitioner whose research focuses on artificial intelligence governance, digital sovereignty, constitutionalism and Africa's evolving place in the global digital order. He holds a PhD in Communication Studies from the University of Johannesburg and developed the concept of geosociotechnopolitics to explain the intersection of technology, society and political power. He is the Executive Director of the Southern Africa Coalition for Democracy and Accountability (SACDA) and writes The Thursday Briefing, a bi-weekly commentary on governance, technology and public policy in Africa.

Author's Note

This article builds on ideas developed in my doctoral research on geosociotechnopolitics, which examines the relationship between technology, society and political power in an increasingly digital and multipolar world. It is part of an ongoing series exploring digital sovereignty, constitutional governance and artificial intelligence from an African perspective. The views expressed are my own and are intended to stimulate informed public debate on Africa's role in shaping the governance of emerging technologies. No generative artificial intelligence system was used to develop the article's original arguments, concepts, analysis, or conclusions. Any digital tools used during the research, editing, or publication process served solely as research and editorial aids.

 References

• African Union. (2025). Continental Artificial Intelligence Strategy. 

• Couldry, N., & Mejias, U. A. (2019). The Costs of Connection. 

• De Gregorio, G. (2022). Digital Constitutionalism in Europe. 

• International Energy Agency. (2024). Global Critical Minerals Outlook. 

• Kai-Fu Lee. (2018). AI Superpowers. 

• Mazzucato, M. (2013). The Entrepreneurial State. 

• O'Mara, M. (2019). The Code: Silicon Valley and the Remaking of America. 

• OECD. (2019). OECD Principles on Artificial Intelligence. 

• Suleyman, M. (2023). The Coming Wave. 

• UNESCO. (2021). Recommendation on the Ethics of Artificial Intelligence. 

• United States Geological Survey. (2025). Mineral Commodity Summaries. 

• World Bank. (2025). Digital Economy for Africa publications. 

• Oxford Insights. (2024/2025). Government AI Readiness Index. 

Note: The concepts of geosociotechnopolitics and technomultipolarity are drawn from the author's doctoral research on technology, governance and Africa–China digital relations.