By Bertha Tobias
“If they don’t give us money, let’s not give them minerals.” This is the sentiment expressed by South Africa’s Mineral Resources Minister, Gwede Mantashe, in response to Donald Trump’s announcement of aid suspension to South Africa in light of the Expropriation Act.
The tit-for-tat geopolitical diplomatic strategy alluded to by Mantashe must not be easily dismissed.
As far back as 2009, legendary Zambian economist Dambisa Moyo warned that Africa’s mental and financial subscription to aid culture, rooted in “liberal sensibilities” which preach that the rich must, unequivocally help the poor, has underdeveloped the continent.
Institutionally, aid, as a mechanism, was charged with a post-war reconstruction mandate, a noble origin. But if Africa’s relative developmental progress is anything to go by, aid’s original mandate has either run its course, or it has dismally underdelivered.
It’s not particularly groundbreaking to propose that the United States has long used aid as a foreign policy tool for strategic influence. However, the most recent weaponization of aid, illustrated by the dissolution of USAID, reveals that aid can be withdrawn as easily as it is given, easily transmuting from a lifeline into a weapon of coercion.
African nations, historically framed as passive recipients, and dare I say, beggars, are now confronted with a question that demands serious contemplation: is there a world in which Africa could consider withholding its minerals in response? If aid can be weaponized, can critical resources be used in the same way?
As the race to net zero intensifies, few things are as fundamental to decarbonization as Africa’s mineral wealth. Over 30% of the world’s mineral reserves are found in Africa. According to the Policy Centre for the New South’s research on Africa’s mining potential, sub-Saharan Africa accounts for around 80% of global platinum production, 50% of manganese, two-thirds of cobalt, and a considerable proportion of chromium. Cobalt and lithium are needed to power increasing electric vehicle adoption in the Global North.
Namibia holds some of the largest uranium reserves globally, crucial for nuclear energy and defense. South Africa remains a dominant force in platinum group metals, essential for catalytic converters and hydrogen fuel cells. The future of energy, defense, and technology cannot exist without African minerals.
Yet, the continent has long played the role of happy-go-lucky supplier, shipping raw materials to industrial powerhouses that process and monetize them at exponentially higher value. The asymmetric nature of this trade dynamic persists, but does it have to?
It might be time to take a closer look at resource nationalism, the strategic assertion of control over natural resources. Historically, Indonesia’s nationalist industrial policy, which compelled importers to direct resources towards downstream investment with soaring nickel export revenues as a result, provides a case study of an alternative model.
Predictably, African economies have been strongly discouraged from adopting similar strategies, warning that restrictions on mineral exports might deter investment or destabilize supply chains. While developed economies are not afraid to withdraw aid to enforce a geopolitical agenda and effectively undermine the sovereignty of smaller countries, the high road does not seem to have served us well until this point.
China has long understood the power of securing critical mineral supply chains, positioning itself as a dominant force in rare earth processing and battery technology. Meanwhile, the U.S. and Europe are scrambling to reduce reliance on China’s supply chains, desperately seeking alternative sources of these indispensable resources. This presents Africa with a unique opportunity. Rather than continuing to act as a low-value raw material supplier,
African nations can negotiate from a position of strength, setting terms that ensure not just economic return but broader developmental gains.
There are, of course, risks to weaponizing minerals. Supply chain disruptions could lead to short-term economic shocks. Countries with diversified economies and strong industrial bases are better positioned to implement resource nationalism without severe consequences.
For many African nations, still struggling with industrialization, abrupt export restrictions might do more harm than good. This tit for tat diplomacy would require more assertion and control over mineral processing. Policies like Zambia’s recent efforts to bolster local copper processing or Namibia’s uranium value-addition strategy are steps in the right direction.
Ultimately, the effectiveness of any mineral leverage strategy will depend on Africa’s willingness to coordinate, negotiate, and execute policies that prioritize long-term sovereignty over short-term convenience.
The bloody conflict in DRC confirms that there is no question on whether Africa is indispensable to the global economy. Rather, the question is whether African nations will continue to play a passive role or assert themselves as equal partners in establishing mutually dignified terms of engagement.
Aid is not a developmental tool. If it can be weaponized, then resources must not be traded without strategic geopolitical forethought. The world needs Africa’s minerals. The time has come for Africa to decide how, and on what terms, it will supply them. If Africa must operate in a world where economic levers are pulled at will by stronger nations, should it not also develop its own levers?
Admittedly, this tit for tat diplomacy could be economically precarious and light years away. Even untenable…but a girl can dream.
*Bertha Tobias is a Rhodes Scholar pursuing a Master of Science in Environment, Enterprise & Sustainability at Oxford University. Connect on bertha.tobias@sant.ox.ac.uk
