By Sardar Khan Niazi

The Olympic boycott of apartheid South Africa remains one of the most powerful examples of principled global solidarity in modern history. When African nations, joined by partners across the Global South, refused to share sporting arenas with a regime built on racial domination, they demonstrated that moral clarity could transcend medals and politics. From the 1976 walkout at the 1976 Summer Olympics in Montreal to sustained diplomatic pressure within the United Nations, the message was unequivocal: normalization is complicity. Today, as Gaza endures relentless bombardment and humanitarian collapse, the African continent faces another defining test. The war unleashed by Israel following the October 7 attacks has devastated civilian life in the besieged enclave. Hospitals have been destroyed, aid convoys obstructed, and thousands of children killed. Yet, even as the death toll mounts, the United States continues to provide military, diplomatic, and political cover to Israel. The question confronting African capitals is not merely geopolitical — it is moral. The comparison to apartheid South Africa is not rhetorical excess. For decades, African states framed apartheid as a crime against humanity and demanded sanctions, boycotts, and diplomatic isolation. They did so not because it was convenient, but because it was just. The African Union — and its predecessor, the Organization of African Unity — anchored their legitimacy in anti-colonial struggle and solidarity with oppressed peoples. Palestine, as South Africa once did, has long occupied a central place in that moral imagination. To be clear, the horrors of October 7 must be acknowledged. The killing of civilians by Hamas was indefensible. However, collective punishment of an entire population cannot be justified as self-defense. Africa’s advantage may not be military, but it is not insignificant. The continent comprises 54 votes in the UN General Assembly. Its markets, diplomatic partnerships, and moral authority matter. In the past, coordinated African action helped tip the balance against Pretoria. A similar unity today — whether through diplomatic pressure, economic review of bilateral ties, or symbolic measures such as downgrading relations — would send a clear signal that impunity cannot be normalized. Critics will argue that Africa cannot afford to alienate Washington. The United States remains a key trade partner, security ally, and aid donor for many countries. Yet history teaches that dependence should not dictate silence. During the Cold War, many African states navigated superpower rivalry while maintaining principled stances on decolonization and racial justice. Strategic autonomy is not anti-Americanism; it is an assertion of sovereignty. Moreover, public opinion across Africa has been deeply sympathetic to the Palestinian cause. From Johannesburg to Dakar, protests have echoed calls for an immediate ceasefire. In Pretoria, the government has gone further, bringing a case before the International Court of Justice alleging violations of the Genocide Convention — a move reminiscent of its own liberation-era diplomacy. The deeper issue is consistency. If Africa’s anti-apartheid legacy means anything, it is that injustice cannot be opposed selectively. The continent cannot invoke its moral history in one breath and retreat into realpolitik in another. Solidarity must be more than a slogan deployed on commemorative anniversaries. None of this suggests that Africa alone can halt the war. However, it can refuse to legitimize it. It can demand a ceasefire, insist on unfettered humanitarian access, and support accountability mechanisms under international law. It can coordinate positions within multilateral forums and resist pressure to dilute resolutions condemning civilian harm. The Olympic boycott was not merely about sport; it was about drawing a line. It told the world that there are moments when participation equals endorsement. As Gaza’s suffering continues under the shadow of US backing for Israel, Africa must decide whether this is such a moment. History will remember who stood for principle.