New Imperialism and the “Weaponization” of Investment in Africa

By Al-Tijani Abdel Qader Hamid
(1) Introduction
In the years following the Berlin Conference (1848), the world witnessed what became known historically as the “Scramble for Africa,” during which the continent was carved into protectorates and colonies, each annexed to a major European power. Nearly two centuries have passed since that grand imperial rush—years marked by upheavals and wars—prompting us to ask: How did this happen? And what can we do to prevent it from happening again?
(2) The First Imperial Rush into Africa
It is worth recalling that the first wave of “runners” were chasing after foreign investments. Their economic claim was that their vast domestic savings could not find sufficiently “comfortable” opportunities within their own borders, and that they were therefore compelled to seek opportunities in distant lands. To this end, they aligned their private interests with broader national goals, arguing that it was in the country’s interest to open new markets and annex vast territories.
They maintained that—however costly or risky—this “annexation” was essential for the survival and progress of nations. Any country that failed to seize territories, they argued, would simply leave room for bolder powers to seize ports and markets, narrowing trade routes and perhaps blocking access to vital food and raw materials.
These imperial entrepreneurs were indifferent to the term “imperialism” being applied to their endeavors; they considered it necessary imperialism, believing their states should use diplomacy (and weapons) to secure and expand these markets.
Experience, of course, showed that war was one of the most direct ways to secure and develop markets—even if it meant turning African lands into protectorates or full-fledged colonies. Thus emerged the classical imperialism that evolved into outright colonial domination.
(3) The New Runners
If this explains how and why the first European rush into Africa occurred—and the grim results that followed—the pressing questions now are: Will the old runners return? Will there be new runners on the African stage? And whether old or new, will they come as uniformed colonial soldiers, or as suit-clad investors? Will Africa see an economic renaissance under their hands, or will its people sink deeper into poverty (given that one-third of Africans today live in extreme poverty, according to World Bank reports)?
This article will not attempt to comprehensively address the phenomenon of modern capitalist expansion into Africa, nor to catalogue the many states and companies seeking easy investments, precious minerals, and cheap labor. They are too numerous, varied in nationality, and divergent in aims and methods. Instead, we will take the United Arab Emirates (UAE) as an example of a small, newly emerged state racing others in the dash into Africa—one that has gained a prominent position in the global trade balance.
Our discussion of the UAE’s turn toward Africa is not meant to deny its right to plan and work diligently to maximize its economic interests in Africa or elsewhere. Rather, it is an attempt to understand the nature of the new role it is playing through its investment policies on the continent, and the extent of their impact on African realities.
The Army’s Strategic Retreat from El Fasher: A Tactical Pause or a Calculated Move?
The withdrawal of Sudanese Armed Forces (SAF) units from their positions in El Fasher on July 29, 2024, has sparked widespread debate among observers and analysts. Was this a forced retreat under battlefield pressure, or a calculated strategic move within a larger military plan?
The SAF’s departure came after months of fierce fighting with the Rapid Support Forces (RSF) and their allied militias, who had been pressing to seize control of El Fasher—the last government stronghold in Darfur. In the eyes of many, the withdrawal was not an isolated battlefield event but a maneuver within a broader strategic calculus.
Between Necessity and Choice
Military sources close to the SAF leadership suggest that the withdrawal was a deliberate choice, aimed at consolidating defenses, preserving manpower, and avoiding unnecessary attrition in a battle with no immediate prospect of decisive victory. This, they argue, aligns with the army’s current doctrine of flexible defense—trading space for time to regroup and prepare counteroffensives.
On the other hand, RSF-aligned media outlets celebrated the move as a clear victory, framing it as the collapse of the army’s defensive lines. Neutral observers caution, however, that such narratives ignore the army’s long-standing strategy of operational withdrawals in protracted conflicts, designed to stretch enemy supply lines and sap their momentum.
The El Fasher Equation
El Fasher’s significance is not merely geographic—it is a political and symbolic center. The city has been the administrative and logistical hub for government operations in Darfur. Losing it entirely would carry both military and diplomatic consequences. For the SAF, the decision to reduce its footprint while maintaining a presence in strategic locations within the city reflects an attempt to balance military pragmatism with political imperatives.
Lessons from the Battlefield
The events in El Fasher illustrate a core reality of the Sudanese conflict: both sides are engaged in a war of endurance rather than decisive, large-scale victories. The SAF’s ability to retreat in an orderly manner, without a total collapse, suggests a disciplined force that is adapting to a war of attrition. Yet, the RSF’s growing territorial control in Darfur remains a pressing challenge for the army’s strategic planners.
Conclusion: A Battle Deferred, Not Lost
Whether the withdrawal from El Fasher proves to be a masterstroke of military foresight or a costly concession will depend on the next phase of the conflict. If the SAF uses this pause to regroup, reinforce, and eventually retake lost ground, history may judge the decision as prudent. If not, it may be remembered as a turning point that accelerated the RSF’s advance in Darfur.
For now, the city remains a contested space—a microcosm of Sudan’s wider war, where tactical withdrawals may yet serve a larger strategic end.



