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Patriotism and class: The politics of loyalty and exploitation in Africa

By Prince of Mthwakazi โ€“ Bongani Mazwi Mkwananzi

Patriotism, by definition, is devotion to and vigorous support for oneโ€™s country, a noble ideal that assumes a shared interest between the state and its people.

Yet, in Africa, where colonialism fractured identity, capitalism entrenched deep class divisions, and the ruling elite exploits the land for personal gain, patriotism is anything but simple. It is not just a sentimentโ€”it is often a demand, an obligation, a weapon used to suppress dissent or an excuse for personal and political enrichment.

The question of who benefits from patriotism and who suffers under it is central to Africaโ€™s ongoing struggle with national identity.

Patriotism has never been neutral; it has always been shaped by class. The patriotism of the worker is not the same as that of the capitalist. The poor are told to sacrifice for their country while the wealthy treat the nation as a marketplace, extracting resources and hoarding wealth. This dynamic plays out across the continent, where the working class is expected to endure hardship in the name of national unity while the elite sells out their countryโ€™s future for personal gain. The contradiction is starkโ€”those who demand patriotism the most are often the least patriotic themselves.

In Zimbabwe, patriotism has been codified into law through the Patriotic Act, criminalising dissent under the guise of national loyalty. The poor are expected to be patriotic while suffering economic despair, while the ruling elite dictate the terms of patriotism from a position of wealth and impunity. The very leaders who brand critics as traitors are the same ones siphoning the countryโ€™s resources to China, traveling abroad for medical treatment while the healthcare system crumbles, and sending their children to private Western schools while public education deteriorates.

The Shona nationalist elite entrenched within ZANU-PF have shaped patriotism as an allegiance to party and ethnicity rather than a collective commitment to national well-being. They invoke the Munhumutapa mythos to frame Shona hegemony as Zimbabwean identity itself, erasing Ndebele and other marginalized histories in the process. The Mutapa Investment Fund, marketed as a patriotic initiative to manage national wealth, is little more than an elite-controlled vehicle for consolidating economic power. Just as land reform was meant to empower ordinary Zimbabweans but instead benefited politically connected individuals, the sovereign wealth fund serves those in power while the majority remain impoverished. Zimbabweโ€™s ruling class weaponizes patriotism to demand loyalty from those they continue to betray.

The Mthwakazi people understand this contradiction intimately. Under a state that demands their loyalty while denying them full belonging, their place in Zimbabwe is that of perpetual outsidersโ€”expected to assimilate but never fully included. The ruling eliteโ€™s version of patriotism requires erasure: silence on Gukurahundi, acceptance of economic marginalization, and submission to an exclusionary national identity. This exclusion has fueled Mthwakazi nationalism, a movement seeking historical justice and autonomy. Yet within it, class contradictions emerge. While the cause is just, a new faction has begun shaping patriotism as a tool for ideological conformity rather than a vehicle for economic liberation. Historically, Mthwakazi itself was built on a structured system of assimilation, where Amanguni formed the dominant class while integrating other ethnic groups into governance structures. This historical complexity has influenced contemporary movements, where ideological purity often takes precedence over practical solutions.

Within Mthwakazi nationalism, the challenge is to avoid replicating the exclusivist tendencies of those they oppose. A movement rooted in justice risks becoming a vehicle for new hierarchies if it defines legitimacy solely through historical grievances rather than an inclusive vision of the future. Alienation and factionalism emerge when political discourse is reduced to rigid camps of โ€œtrue nationalistsโ€ and โ€œsellouts,โ€ stifling meaningful engagement and economic problem-solving. Classism, too, finds space in this division, where some activists assert intellectual dominance, dismissing others as uninformed or less committed to the cause. This further deepens economic and social rifts, marginalizing voices that call for pragmatic strategies.

A movement that embraces dialogue and economic upliftment, rather than exclusionary narratives, has the potential to forge a more effective path forward. Resistance should not become a mirror of the oppressive structures it seeks to dismantle, but rather a framework for building a sustainable and equitable society. If Mthwakazi nationalism is to be truly liberatory, it must resist the tendency to entrench power in new hands rather than uplift the people.

In South Africa, patriotism is similarly twisted to serve class interests. AfriForum, the Afrikaner lobby group, claims to represent persecuted white South Africans but truly serves the economic elite, not the working-class Afrikaners left behind by apartheidโ€™s collapse. Their version of patriotism is about preserving privilege, not unity. The irony is sharpโ€”Afrikaners were once marginalized under British rule, but through apartheid, they seized control of the state and entrenched economic dominance. Today, AfriForum erases this history, presenting themselves as eternal victims while enjoying generational wealth. Meanwhile, black working-class frustrations manifest as xenophobic nationalism, misdirecting economic grievances toward immigrants rather than the capitalist elite who continue to exploit them. South African right-wing movements like Operation Dudula fuel this exclusionary rhetoric, blaming migrants for unemployment while the real culpritsโ€”corporate profiteersโ€”remain untouched. Here, patriotism is wielded to protect existing hierarchies rather than to uplift the dispossessed.

In eSwatini, patriotism is entangled with cultural preservation and royal power. The monarchy presents itself as the guardian of Swazi traditions, equating opposition to its rule with betrayal of national identity. This makes it difficult for democracy activists to separate cultural pride from political submission, creating a divide where many Swazis fear reform may erode their traditions rather than liberate them. The monarchyโ€™s grip on economic assets further complicates the struggleโ€”many rural Swazis remain economically dependent on the royal system, making opposition feel risky. Yet within opposition movements, a new form of coercion emerges, where activists demand absolute ideological alignment, mirroring the monarchyโ€™s own authoritarian tactics. The true challenge for Swazi nationalism is to reclaim culture from political exploitation, ensuring tradition serves the people, not power.

In Uganda, patriotism is monopolized by the Bahima aristocracy, entrenched in military and political structures. Yoweri Museveni, ruling for nearly four decades, presents himself as the guardian of Ugandaโ€™s sovereignty while selling the nationโ€™s resources to multinational corporations. The Lake Albert oil reserves, instead of uplifting Ugandans, were handed to French and Chinese companies, replicating the colonial model of resource extraction. Land grabs displace farmers, opposition figures are labeled unpatriotic, and corruption ensures economic hardship is shouldered by the poor. Just as in Zimbabwe, patriotism here is not about national progress but about silencing dissent and securing elite wealth.

Nigeriaโ€™s elite apply the same formula, cloaking self-interest in nationalistic rhetoric while hoarding oil wealth. Despite being Africaโ€™s largest producer, fuel shortages and economic collapse define daily life, while politicians stash billions in offshore accounts. The same leaders who proclaim Nigeriaโ€™s greatness evade taxes, launder money abroad, and send their children to foreign universities while the masses struggle. When Nigerians protest, they are met with police brutality and accusations of treason, exposing patriotism as a means of oppression rather than unity.

Laws like Zimbabweโ€™s Patriotic Act reflect a broader trend across Africa, where governments criminalize dissent under the guise of national sovereignty. Across the continent, patriotism serves the ruling class, not the people. It is a carefully crafted illusion, a narrative weaponized to suppress accountability while ensuring power remains consolidated at the top. If Africa is to break this cycle, then patriotism must be reclaimedโ€”not as blind allegiance to the state, but as a collective commitment to justice, economic equity, and democratic governance. True patriotism should empower the people, not silence them, and serve as a force for liberation rather than a mechanism of control. Only when patriotism is tied to the well-being of the most marginalized can it become a unifying force rather than a tool of division and subjugation.

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