Andrea Ngombet

“To lead sound policy, it is imperative to know how to judge the era and to
embrace it or, if fortune permits, to usher in the advent of a new one. Faced
with the unraveling of the post-1945 consensus, Africa must determine its
place in this reconfiguration and thus ask itself: Are we at a Schmittian
moment or a truly Clausewitzian one in our history? This question is
essential; with the History of nations as our mirror, we must forge a
singular future, one that bears our values, regenerates our cultures, and is
universal in its project. For my part, I believe that Africa is at a
Bismarckian moment in its history. We must bring forth our new era, forged by
war if necessary, the unity without which we will all perish.”

— Andrea Ngombet

The Case for a Central African Union

From the perspective of Congo-Brazzaville’s national interest, the creation
of a larger Central African state is our sole strategic horizon. It carries
the pólemos, war (πόλεμος), beyond the oikos, our shared home (οἶκος). A
merged state incorporating Congo-Brazzaville, Gabon, Equatorial Guinea, São
Tomé, and Cabinda would control vast oil and gas reserves, significant forest
resources, and a coastline stretching along the Gulf of Guinea. Under threat
from giants like Cameroon, Angola, and the Democratic Republic of Congo, such
a union would gain, through immediate external pressure, the cohesion of
Greek city-states facing the perils of the Persian Empire.

With a combined GDP of around $50 billion, this union could diversify beyond
oil by becoming a global agro-industrial and technological powerhouse. Such a
union would wield greater leverage in negotiations with multinational oil
companies, have greater capacity to diversify its economy, and be better able
to withstand commodity price shocks.

Congo-Brazzaville currently plans to double its oil production from
260,000–280,000 barrels per day to 500,000 bpd by 2027–2030. Combined, the
region’s energy resources could support investments in infrastructure,
refining, and petrochemicals on a scale that would be impossible for each
state separately. One might even envision the creation of a Gulf of Guinea oil
price index separate from Brent or the Persian Gulf benchmarks.

Unified security forces, shared intelligence, and harmonized laws would
enable the tackling of trafficking networks that currently exploit Central
Africa’s fragmentation. A Central African union comprising eight to ten
million inhabitants and significant oil production would draw more attention
in international forums than any of its constituent parts — better positioned
to resist external pressures, whether from Washington, Paris, Beijing, or
elsewhere, and to negotiate on terms closer to an equal footing. Indeed, such
a union would form the heart of a new sovereign Equatorial Africa, with Congo
reasserting its imperium over the region.

The Principle of Intangibility and Its Limits

When African states emerged from colonial domination in the late 1950s and
early 1960s, they inherited a map drawn for imperial ends. The Scramble for
Africa, formalized in Berlin, produced long, straight borders cutting across
deserts and forests, as well as convoluted boundaries following rivers and
mountain ridges, without regard for local political realities. Many new
leaders recognized that these borders were neither natural nor just. Yet they
also feared that any attempt to redraw them would unleash endless conflict.

The newly independent countries thus adopted a powerful consensus: the
colonial borders must remain inviolable. This principle was viewed through the
prism of uti possidetis juris — a doctrine first applied in Latin America
stipulating that administrative borders within a colonial empire become
international borders upon independence. The International Court of Justice,
especially in the 1986 Burkina Faso/Mali boundary case, explicitly linked the
1964 Cairo Resolution to this doctrine, grounding the idea that the primary
source of African borders is colonial law and administrative acts.

However, conflating Africa’s principle with uti possidetis obscures important
differences. The African principle is broader and more political than the
classical uti possidetis juris. It prescribes neither the technical method by
which a border must be drawn nor how disputes should be resolved; it simply
forbids the forcible alteration of borders and obliges states to settle
disagreements peacefully. Moreover, only a minority of African borders
actually resulted from former internal administrative lines of a single
colonial power. Many were the product of bilateral treaties between different
European empires. In Central Africa, French, Belgian, German, British,
Spanish, and Portuguese claims intersected and overlapped.

The practical effect, nonetheless, was to freeze the colonial map. African
governments may complain about the arbitrary nature of their borders, but they
accepted them in law, and regional and global institutions reinforced this
acceptance. Stability was purchased at an exorbitant price: 54 dysfunctional
rump states. Borders that split ethnic groups created permanent minorities
whose loyalty was always suspect. Landlocked states have depended on the
goodwill of neighbors for port access. And infrastructure networks designed to
extract resources toward imperial metropoles (with Beijing supplanting Paris
and London) often run parallel to borders rather than across them, fragmenting
regional economies. According to the World Bank, these divisions cost Africa
up to 2% of annual growth — a burden magnified by climate shocks and
migratory pressures.

The Zollverein: Economy Before Politics

The German case is not a model to be mechanically replicated in Africa. Still,
it offers a set of comparative lessons on how economic integration, diplomatic
maneuvers, and ultimately war can combine to transform a fragmented political
landscape into a single state. Before unification, the German world comprised
thirty-nine states, ranging from large kingdoms like Prussia and Bavaria to
tiny principalities and free cities. They shared a language and a cultural
heritage, but were divided by tariffs, currencies, legal systems, and distinct
dynastic loyalties.

The first step toward unity came not through political revolution but through
economic integration: the creation of the Zollverein in 1834. This customs
union, initiated by Prussia, abolished internal trade barriers and fostered a
common market. Crucially, most German states joined the union, but Austria —
the dominant German-speaking power at the time — remained apart to protect its
own markets. In our African context, think of Nigeria staying out of the
AfCFTA.

Over the next three decades, the Zollverein wove the economies of the German
states together, spurring industrial growth, railway construction, and the
emergence of a single market. This economic integration also bred a bourgeois
nationalism, as merchants and industrialists came to see themselves as actors
in one German economy rather than subjects of separate princes.

In Central Africa, CEMAC (the Economic and Monetary Community of Central
Africa), with its CFA franc and shared infrastructure projects, could play a
similar role. Yet its sluggish progress — economic growth of only 2.8% in
2025 — underscores the challenges of coordination.

This economic union laid the groundwork for subsequent political steps,
illustrating how commerce can precede and facilitate unity. In Africa, the
African Continental Free Trade Area (AfCFTA), operational since 2021, aims to
raise intra-African trade from 18% to 52% by 2040. But non-tariff barriers
persist, slowing the pace of regional integration.

Bismarck and the Policy of “Blood and Iron”

The decisive figure in the German saga was Otto von Bismarck, who became
Prussian Minister-President in 1862 — the very man who would later convene
the imperial powers in Berlin to partition Africa. Bismarck famously declared
that the great questions of his time would not be decided by “speeches and
majority decisions” but by “blood and iron.” His strategy was threefold:
isolate Prussia’s enemies diplomatically, modernize the Prussian army, and
wage short, decisive wars against carefully chosen adversaries. This
unsentimental Realpolitik approach — pragmatism without scruples — should
resonate with African realities.

The challenge by Ethiopian leader Abiy Ahmed Ali to the Anglo-Egyptian Treaty
of 1929, which granted Egypt a veto over the control of the Nile’s waters and
any upstream construction projects, was a profoundly Bismarckian moment.
Through this act, materialized by the construction of the Grand Ethiopian
Renaissance Dam (GERD), begun in 2011 and whose filling started in July 2020
despite Egyptian protests, Ethiopia chose, at the risk of war, the supreme
interest of its country. Thanks to this dam more than to any hearted charity
pop song, Ethiopia ensures an end to the droughts that caused terrible famines
there, even if it comes at the expense of Egypt, which, now in a position of
need, will have a heightened interest in cooperation.

However, Abiy would sign an agreement with Somaliland in January 2024 for
access to the port of Berbera — an encouraging first step toward an East
African Zollverein under Ethiopian hegemony. One should not hesitate to pursue
the unification of the Horn of Africa under Ethiopian hegemony, as it would
safeguard peace and prosperity for all.

Bismarck’s first conflict, the War of the Duchies in 1864, saw Prussia and
Austria join forces against Denmark over the duchies of Schleswig and
Holstein. The second, the Austro-Prussian War of 1866, was carefully
orchestrated by Bismarck. Isolated and facing a reformed, rearmed Prussian
army, Austria was defeated at the Battle of Königgrätz in only seven weeks —
a lesson for Africa, where protracted wars (as in the DR Congo) drain
resources and lives.

In the aftermath, Bismarck created the North German Confederation under
Prussian leadership. The final act came with the Franco-Prussian War of
1870–1871. This unification, achieved in under a decade, transformed Germany
into an industrial power with a per capita GDP rivaling that of England.

The Lesson: Diplomacy, Economy, Force

What emerges from this history is a pattern: economic integration created
underlying structures and shared interests; diplomacy ensured each enemy was
isolated before conflict; war then removed the remaining political obstacles.
In other words, unification was not the product of nationalism or abstract
pan-Germanism alone, but of a strategic combination of market-building,
alliance management, and force.

In Africa, the AfCFTA could serve as an African Zollverein, but its slow
implementation — by 2026, only 47% of eligible states had submitted
tariff-reduction offers — limits its potential.

For Central Africa, the lesson is twofold. On the one hand, functional
integration through trade, infrastructure, and monetary policy can lay the
groundwork for a political union without immediately confronting the legal
obstacles of border revision. On the other hand, if the resistance of certain
actors — whether regional neighbors or external powers — cannot be overcome by
negotiation, then resorting to force must become a strategic necessity,
uncomfortable as that may sound.

Partition and River Treaties

The history of Congo-Brazzaville’s boundaries shows how colonial competition
and metropolitan priorities, rather than local preferences, created the
territorial framework within which our subjugation still unfolds. In the late
19th century, three European actors proved decisive in the Congo Basin:
France, King Leopold II of Belgium, and Portugal. The Berlin Conference,
convened by Bismarck to regulate the “Scramble for Africa,” ratified its
arrangements, extending Leopold’s holdings and isolating Cabinda — an enclave
rich in petroleum that today produces 60–70% of Angola’s oil.

France secured its grip on the right bank of the Congo River through treaties
negotiated by Pierre Savorgnan de Brazza with local rulers in the early 1880s.
These agreements established French “protectorates” over territories that
would later become known as French Congo and, later, Middle Congo. Leopold II,
acting through the International Association of the Congo, staked claim to the
lands of the left bank and much of the interior — recognized at Berlin as the
Congo Free State, his personal fiefdom. Portugal, for its part, retained
control of Cabinda thanks to treaties such as the 1885 Treaty of Simulambuco,
signed between Portuguese representatives and the “princes and notables” of
Cabinda. These colonial treaties still undergird the claims of Cabinda’s
separatist movement, the FLEC.

This partition, driven by economic interests, ignored the ethnic Kongo ties
that transcended those borders, and which fuel ongoing separatist tensions
today.

French Equatorial Africa and Brazzaville

In 1910, France reorganized its Central African possessions into French
Equatorial Africa (AEF) — a federation comprising the territories of Middle
Congo, Gabon, Oubangui-Chari (today’s Central African Republic), and Chad.
Brazzaville was chosen as the federal capital, anchoring the city in a web of
administrative circuits and infrastructure oriented toward Europe. The
Congo–Ocean Railway, completed in the 1930s, linked Brazzaville to the
Atlantic port of Pointe-Noire, making Middle Congo a key transit corridor for
goods from across the federation.

During World War II, Brazzaville’s political importance grew when French
Equatorial Africa rallied to General de Gaulle and became the anchor of Free
France in Africa. The Brazzaville Conference of 1944 marked the beginning of
the end of the colonial empire and raised expectations among African elites
for postwar reforms. For Congolese political actors, this era reinforced a
feeling of their territory’s centrality in regional and even global affairs.

Independence and the Freezing of Borders

Constitutional reforms in the 1950s transformed this landscape. The Loi-cadre
(Framework Law) of 1956 devolved power to territorial assemblies, and the
1958 referendum on membership in the French Community led to the dissolution
of the AEF federation. Middle Congo became an autonomous republic within the
Community and, on August 15, 1960, the fully independent Republic of Congo.

The borders inherited at independence were largely those that had served as
internal administrative lines within the federation. In this administrative
carve-up, Middle Congo lost the mineral-rich region of Haut-Ogooué (with the
city of Franceville) to the new nation of Gabon, and the former German
Cameroon lost the Sangha River corridor, which had given it access to the
Congo River.

Four years later, the Cairo Resolution of 1964 transformed those contingent,
historically specific lines into sacrosanct borders under African international
law. Congo-Brazzaville, like its neighbors, accepted the compromise: borders
arbitrarily drawn in the 1880s and fixed by colonial administrative logic
would become the non-negotiable framework of the new nation’s existence.

The CEMAC Framework: Promises and Paralysis

At present, Congo-Brazzaville is a member of two overlapping regional bodies:
the Economic and Monetary Community of Central Africa (CEMAC) and the broader
Economic Community of Central African States (ECCAS). CEMAC comprises
Cameroon, the Central African Republic, Chad, Gabon, Equatorial Guinea, and
Congo-Brazzaville, all of which share the CFA franc — a currency pegged to
the euro and guaranteed by the French Treasury. ECCAS extends membership to
include Angola, the DR Congo, Burundi, Rwanda, and São Tomé and Príncipe.

In theory, these organizations aim to promote economic integration, peace and
security, and the free movement of people. In practice, integration in Central
Africa has been slower and more uneven than in other parts of the continent.
Cameroon, the regional heavyweight in population (28 million) and GDP (around
$45 billion), has not consistently assumed a leadership role, due in part to
internal conflicts. Equatorial Guinea and Gabon have at times prioritized
national control of oil wealth and strict immigration policies over regional
obligations, frequently expelling citizens of neighboring countries despite
treaty commitments.

Despite these difficulties, the region is crisscrossed by potential vectors
of integration. Congo-Brazzaville, Gabon, and Equatorial Guinea are all oil
producers and members of OPEC, with significant reserves and shared offshore
basins. The 2026 projected regional growth of around 3%, according to the
World Bank, is hindered by high debt and external shocks.

The Weaponization of Mobility: Travel Bans and “Unite or Perish”

Upheavals in global governance are now undermining the stability of this
regional order. Development assistance — whether funneled through bilateral
agencies or multilateral institutions — comes with ever-stricter
conditionalities (a new form of vassalization), migration controls, and
security cooperation requirements. Travel bans and visa restrictions have been
deployed as instruments of foreign policy, constraining entire populations’
ability to move, study, and work abroad.

On December 16, 2025, the Trump administration extended its travel ban to 20
additional countries, including Mali, Burkina Faso, Niger, South Sudan, and
Congo-Brazzaville. In response, some African states began imposing reciprocal
restrictions on Western nationals. Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger announced
they would apply “in reciprocity” the same measures to U.S. citizens — a
decision hailed by some as an assertion of dignity and sovereignty, but in
reality a bravura gesture akin to a clay pot challenging an iron pot.

Fragmentation as Vulnerability

For small resource-dependent states like Congo-Brazzaville, these dynamics
lay bare a structural vulnerability. With populations ranging between two and
five million, narrow economic bases reliant on oil exports, and currencies
tied to the euro through arrangements contingent on French goodwill, such
countries have limited leverage in dealings with great powers. They can be
punished, but cannot credibly punish in return.

Here is where the German analogy acquires real force. Just as the pre-1871
German states could not individually shape a European order dominated by
Austria, France, and Russia, today’s Central African states are caught in an
international system where decisions made in Washington, Brussels, Beijing, or
Paris critically shape their economic and political fate. The unity of all the
Germans transformed a collection of objects in European diplomacy into a
single powerful subject. For Central Africa, political union is likewise the
only path from vulnerability to real sovereignty.

The call to “unite or perish” will thus cease to be mere rhetoric. It will
reflect a pragmatic assessment of power in a world of large blocs — the
European Union, a potentially unified and ascendant Eurasia, a continental
China, and the North American market — where small states survive mainly as
appendages and clients unless they integrate into larger political projects.
In 2026, with the AfCFTA beginning to boost intra-African trade, such unity
could serve as a counterweight to post-Trump American tariffs.

Cabinda: Oil, Law, and the Limits of the Status Quo

Cabinda is an exclave province of Angola, separated from the rest of that
country by the mouth of the Congo River and by a narrow strip of territory
belonging to the Democratic Republic of Congo. Under the 1885 Treaty of
Simulambuco, the Kongo chiefs of Cabinda accepted Portuguese protection, but
the territory was legally distinct from Angola. When Portugal withdrew in
1975, Cabinda was effectively incorporated into independent Angola without a
separate act of self-determination — a move long contested by Cabindan
separatists. Various factions of the Front for the Liberation of the Enclave
of Cabinda (FLEC) have fought for independence or autonomy, waging a
low-intensity insurgency. Clashes reported in 2025 have resulted in dozens
of deaths.

Cabinda’s significance is magnified by its oil. The enclave produces a vast
share of Angola’s petroleum — estimates often place it at 60%–70% of national
output, making it the fiscal heart of the Angolan state. Major multinational
companies operate offshore blocks there, and the revenues from Cabinda sustain
Angola’s budget, military, and foreign policy. With the new N’Dola Sul field
adding 25,000 barrels per day in 2025, and the Cabinda refinery producing
30,000 bpd (with a target of 60,000), the enclave’s economic role is only
growing.

For Congo-Brazzaville, Cabinda poses both historical and strategic stakes.
Geographically, the enclave borders Congo’s Kouilou region; ethnically and
culturally, there are bonds between populations on either side of the border,
rooted in the precolonial kingdoms of Loango and Kakongo. Historically,
Cabinda’s enclavement — by extending Leopold’s Congo Free State to the
Atlantic — was a decision made by European powers, not African communities.
From an African perspective, one could argue that this enclave represents
unfinished business in the decolonization of Central Africa.

In June 1997, leveraging his marital alliance with Gabon’s President Omar
Bongo and his friendship with Angola’s President Eduardo dos Santos, Congolese
President Denis Sassou-Nguesso ignited a civil war against his rival, the
democratically elected President Pascal Lissouba. In October of that same
year, it was from Cabinda that the Angolan army invaded Congo-Brazzaville,
tipping the civil war in favor of Sassou-Nguesso’s faction. Angola became,
de facto, an occupying force in Congo for nearly five years. This painful
episode underscored how Cabinda can be a fulcrum of regional power dynamics.

Legal and Political Obstacles

Any attempt by Congo-Brazzaville or a future Central African Union to claim
Cabinda would run into significant obstacles. The African doctrine of respect
for borders at independence would immediately be invoked against any
territorial revision. Angola, a regional power with a battle-hardened army,
would fiercely resist any loss of sovereignty over the enclave. External
powers with oil interests in Cabinda — especially the United States, France,
and China — would oppose instability in such a crucial production zone.

Yet these obstacles are not insurmountable. If a new Central African union,
incorporating Congo-Brazzaville, Gabon, Equatorial Guinea, and São Tomé,
could demonstrate genuine regional legitimacy and significant economic clout,
it might negotiate a settlement with Angola. Such a deal could involve shared
development zones, revenue-sharing agreements, demilitarization of the
enclave, or even an autodetermination referendum for Cabinda’s inhabitants.

If diplomacy were to fail, however, the Bismarckian option remains.

The Diplomatic Path

The preferred path to the Central African union is, of course, diplomatic.
Economic integration within CEMAC can be deepened, with Congo-Brazzaville
taking the initiative to propose a political federation. Shared infrastructure
projects — pipelines, railways, and power grids — would create
interdependence, making political union feel like a natural progression rather
than a forced imposition. Harmonizing laws on citizenship, residency, and
labor would allow populations to circulate freely, building the social
foundations of a common identity. The African Union Border Program could even
help redefine internal borders to accommodate a new federation.

São Tomé and Príncipe, as an observer in CEMAC and a full member of ECCAS,
could be integrated into the union through negotiation. The archipelago’s
small population (~220,000) and limited economy make it dependent on external
support; joining a larger bloc would offer security guarantees and development
opportunities. Gabon and Equatorial Guinea present more complex challenges.
Both enjoy higher per capita incomes than Congo-Brazzaville and have pursued
autonomous development strategies. Their elites may resist any arrangement
that dilutes their sovereignty or redistributes their oil wealth.

The Role of War

If diplomacy fails, the Bismarckian lesson is that war might be necessary to
overcome the resistance of rival powers or reluctant states. German
unification entailed three wars over seven years — against Denmark (1864),
Austria (1866), and France (1870–71). Each was short, decisive, and designed
to isolate the adversary before striking.

For Congo-Brazzaville, the principal obstacle to union is neither Gabon nor
Equatorial Guinea, but Angola — more specifically, Angola’s control of
Cabinda. A war to reclaim Cabinda would be the Central African equivalent of
Bismarck’s war against Denmark: a limited conflict over a specific territory,
designed to demonstrate resolve and to reconfigure the regional balance of
power.

Such a war would require meticulous preparation. The mere prospect of conflict
would compel urgent modernization of the army (mastery of nuclear, space, and
cyber technology), improvements in governance, and the forging of new external
alliances. War, undesirable as it is, can be a driver of innovation and an
imperative for efficiency in the service of the people.

The risks would be very real. Angola is a larger and more powerful state, with
a military honed by decades of civil war and regional interventions. Yet the
risks of inaction are also stark. Without Cabinda, a Central African union
would lack the economic heft needed to survive; it would remain dependent on
the goodwill of external powers and vulnerable to the same pressures — travel
bans, cuts to American aid, economic coercion, unequal contracts, and odious
debts — that currently afflict African states individually. The choice may
ultimately be between calculated risk and permanent marginalization.

Beyond the Colonial Map

Africa’s borders were drawn by others, for purposes other than our own. In
the early 1960s, African elites chose to stabilize those borders because the
alternative seemed chaos. Six decades on, that choice has brought both
benefits and costs. Major interstate wars over territory have been relatively
rare, but internal wars, fragmentation, and vulnerability remain defining
features of the continent’s place in the world.

The unification of Germany shows that fragmented political entities can, under
certain conditions, transform into a single state capable of shaping its
environment rather than being shaped by it. It also shows that such a
transformation is rarely the fruit of good intentions alone. Economic
integration, skillful diplomacy, and, in the last resort, war all played a
role. The map of Germany in 1815 did not dictate the map of 1871; it was a
starting point, not a destiny.

For Congo-Brazzaville and its Central African neighbors, the colonial map
should likewise be seen as a starting point. It structured decades of politics
and law, but it need not determine the future indefinitely. The combination of
external pressures — the end of U.S. aid, travel bans, odious debts, unequal
contracts, great-power rivalries, internal challenges, economic
vulnerabilities, security threats, and demographic shifts — calls for bold
strategic rethinking.

The strategy explored here is to make Congo-Brazzaville the leader of a
Central African union that would include Gabon, Equatorial Guinea, São Tomé
and Príncipe, and ultimately Cabinda. The road to such a union would ideally
be diplomatic, gradual, and consensual. Still, preparation for a high-
intensity conflict must linger in the background, just as it did in 19th-
century Europe. Whether the region chooses speeches and resolutions, blood and
iron, or some combination of the two will determine not only the fate of its
borders but also the extent of its sovereignty in a world where power is
increasingly exercised on a continental scale.

For now, the principle of the inviolability of inherited borders remains in
force, and any deviation from it would be fiercely contested. But principles
in international life endure only as long as they serve the interests of those
who uphold them. As Central Africa faces the 21st century, the profound
question is no longer whether the colonial borders are arbitrary, but whether
clinging to them as unalterable still serves the long-term interests of its
peoples. For Congo-Brazzaville, the experience of the Angolan invasion of
October 1997 inclines me to answer in the negative.

We stand at a Bismarckian moment in our history. Unity will come neither from
willpower alone nor from words alone. It will come, if it comes, through
patient economic integration, skillful diplomacy, and, if necessary, through
blood and iron. The alternative is death by fragmentation, perpetual
vassalization, and the gradual erasure of any real sovereignty — in short, a
return to colonial status, to being an object of history rather than a subject.

“We need the unity of all Germans!”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:
Andrea Ngombet is a political analyst and activist writing on Central African
geopolitics, sovereignty, and strategic affairs.