The talk of Africa as a strategic ally has resurfaced, echoing the political rhetoric of the 1960s—a time when poets like Mahmoud Hassan Ismail were captivated by the wave of black resistance against white colonialism, writing:
‘The giant of the jungle has broken free… Open the gate, or he will shatter it.’
It was a movement that Gamal Abdel Nasser actively supported on multiple fronts, most notably in Ghana, where it culminated in the assassination of its leader, Kwame Nkrumah, who was also Nasser’s personal friend. Back then, Egypt’s ties with Africa ran deep, embodied by a leader whom African nations saw as a spiritual father, despite his different skin colour.
But that era of Egyptian-African relations is long gone. So why the renewed emphasis on Africa as an essential strategic dimension that must not be overlooked?
In principle, these ideas are commendable, but the real issue lies in how Egypt is approaching its ‘return’ to Africa—why is the economic aspect taking precedence over all others?
In recent days, there has been a flurry of reports on Egyptian investments in the continent, particularly the banking sector’s push into African financial markets. Egypt’s major banks—al-Ahli, Misr, al-Qahira, and the Export Development Bank—have agreed to establish a $150 million direct investment fund for projects in Nile Basin countries.
Meanwhile, al-Ahli Bank has announced plans to reclaim 250,000 acres in Ethiopia for agricultural projects. At the same time, the bank has applied to open a representative office in the country.
One expert suggested that the primary motivation behind this push is the need to find new investment opportunities beyond Egypt’s domestic market, which offers limited options despite the banking sector’s surplus liquidity, exceeding 800 billion Egyptian pounds. This follows a period of retreat into the local market.
But this raises two fundamental questions for macroeconomic experts. First, how can there be such a vast pool of ‘unused’ banking liquidity in a developing country of 80 million people, most of them young and in their productive years? How can a nation still decades away from achieving adequate infrastructure lag behind others that have successfully lifted themselves out of poverty through internal investment?
The second question, beyond the immediate profitability of providing banking services abroad, concerns the concept of direct investment—such as agricultural ventures in Ethiopia. Yes, Ethiopia has more abundant water resources, cheaper labour, and Egypt has an urgent need for agricultural products. But isn’t this essentially a case of funnelling Egyptian capital into a foreign economy, only for its output to be reimported as imports that disrupt Egypt’s trade balance? Would it not be more beneficial to invest those resources domestically, developing Egypt’s own agricultural sector and creating jobs?
Economists should be raising their voices now, clarifying for both policymakers and the public the advantages and drawbacks of this shift. It may well be that this entire strategy is, at its core, a political manoeuvre disguised as an economic initiative—one driven by Egypt’s ongoing struggles to secure its share of Nile water and its diminishing influence in Africa, particularly in contrast to Israel’s growing presence.
This article is originally published by AlBorsa in Arabic and later AI-translated by South Push.