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On July 9, 2025, I was overwhelmed by a profound sense of despair and disappointment upon reading a report from Oxfam International, a globally recognised NGO, revealing that just four of Africa’s richest billionaires hold a combined wealth of $57.4bn. According to Oxfam, this figure exceeds the total wealth of approximately 750 million Africans, roughly half of the continent’s population.
Moreover, the top 5 percent of Africans now control nearly $4 trillion in wealth, more than double the combined assets of the remaining 95 percent.
Titled Africa’s Inequality Crisis and the Rise of the Super‑Rich, the report profiles the four wealthiest individuals on the continent. At number one is Aliko Dangote of Nigeria, estimated to be worth $23.3bn. Next is Johann Rupert and his family from South Africa, with about $14.2bn in wealth. Following them are Nicky Oppenheimer and his family, also South African, with a fortune of $10.2bn. Finally, Egyptian Nassef Sawiris holds approximately $9.4bn in net worth.
I find myself among the bottom 95 percent, the hopeful yet under‑resourced individuals who have laboured for modest incomes while yearning for socioeconomic transformation. At the dawn of the 21st century, in 2000, Africa had no billionaires. Today it is home to 23 billionaires, predominantly male, whose combined wealth has soared by 56 percent over the past five years, reaching an astounding $112.6bn.
Today, no two nations better illustrate Africa’s stark wealth disparity and oligarchic dominance than Nigeria and South Africa, and no business leader exemplifies the rise of crony capitalism on the continent more than Aliko Dangote.
Here is why.
Twenty‑five years ago, Dangote was simply an ambitious multimillionaire businessman. Then, on February 23, 1999, he made a substantial donation to General Olusegun Obasanjo’s presidential campaign. That seemingly benign investment proved decisive for his business trajectory.
A year later, the Obasanjo administration embarked on a sweeping privatisation of state‑owned enterprises, aiming to liberalise the economy, attract private investment and foster domestic entrepreneurship under the Backward Integration Policy (BIP). Dangote acquired Benue Cement in 2000 and Obajana Cement in 2002, laying the foundations for Dangote Cement, now Africa’s largest cement producer.
Between 2010 and 2015, Dangote Cement reportedly paid an effective tax rate of less than 1 percent on profits of approximately 1 trillion Nigerian naira (about $6bn at 2015 exchange rates). Dangote himself became Nigeria’s richest entrepreneur in 2007, attaining billionaire status amid the company’s rapid expansion.
Since then, the quid pro quo strategies between Dangote and the Obasanjo administration have become a conventional aspect of Nigerian politics and business, albeit a controversial one.
Critics argue that the BIP has stifled competition and fostered monopolistic practices in key sectors like sugar and cement, disproportionately benefitting politically connected elites – including Dangote – at the expense of smaller enterprises and ordinary Nigerians.
Nigeria is richly endowed with natural resources and possesses world-class human capital. Nevertheless, more than 112 million people, nearly half of Nigeria’s population, live in poverty, based on the most recent population estimates of around 227 million. At the same time, the country’s five wealthiest individuals, dominating sectors such as oil and gas, banking, telecommunications, and real estate, have amassed a combined fortune of $29.9bn.
The dysfunctional system that has enabled Nigeria’s “big five” entrepreneurs and fostered oligarchic patterns is not unique to Nigeria. South Africa, Africa’s most industrialised nation, confronts similar but distinct challenges in its post-apartheid era.
After apartheid ended on April 27, 1994, the African National Congress (ANC) introduced Black Economic Empowerment (BEE) and Broad-Based BEE initiatives (BBBEE). These policies aimed to advance the effective participation of Black people in the economy, achieve higher growth, increase employment and ensure fairer income distribution.
However, over time, the ANC itself acknowledged that these affirmative action programs have not appreciably benefitted most Black South Africans, especially Black women. In the 31 years since apartheid, economic conditions have only marginally improved. While a few Black business leaders have emerged, they continue to succeed within a system engineered to favour a narrow elite.
One such example is Patrice Motsepe, a mining magnate and among Africa’s richest individuals, with an estimated net worth of approximately $3bn. Supporters view him as a tangible beneficiary of post-apartheid economic transformation, but critics, including economist Moeletsi Mbeki, argue that his wealth reflects crony capitalism rather than broad-based entrepreneurship. Motsepe, who is also the brother-in-law of President Cyril Ramaphosa, remains a rare exception in a system marked by elite capture.
By April 2025, South Africa’s official unemployment rate stood at 32.9 percent, equating to about 8.2 million people actively seeking work, while the broader rate, including discouraged jobseekers, rose to 43.1 percent. Around the same time, approximately 34.3 million South Africans, or more than half the population, were living in poverty.
Meanwhile, the Oppenheimer family, whose immense fortune in diamond mining has deep historical roots tied to South Africa’s colonial past, continues to expand its wealth. A Harvard Growth Lab study published in November 2023 concluded that three decades after the end of apartheid, the economy is defined by stagnation and exclusion, and current strategies are not achieving inclusion and empowerment in practice.
Unsurprisingly, the most prominent beneficiaries of BEE initiatives have been ANC insiders and aligned business elites, including President Ramaphosa, former Gauteng Premier Tokyo Sexwale, Saki Macozoma, a former ANC MP, and Bridgette Radebe, sister to Motsepe and wife of ANC stalwart Jeff Radebe.
This distinct class of elites starkly contrasts with BEE’s intended beneficiaries, everyday South Africans. Instead, these individuals are grappling with the lingering consequences of oligarchic state capture, widespread corruption, poor service delivery, and sustained cuts to education and health budgets.
Nigeria shares this pattern. At the very least, Dangote’s vast wealth should represent the pinnacle of success in a thriving African economy. Instead, he exemplifies Africa’s most prominent and wealthiest oligarch, demonstrating how proximity to political power can create controversial paths to fortune. Regrettably, almost every African country has its own Dangote or Motsepe whose influence hinders fair and inclusive economic development.
Crony capitalism is a sharp break from free market ideals, where political connections override merit and innovation. This distortion breeds corruption, economic inefficiency and social inequality. It also weakens democratic norms by allowing private interests to gain excessive influence over public policy.
A 2015 study by Columbia University concluded that wealth accumulated by politically connected oligarchs has a strongly negative impact on economic growth, while the fortunes of unconnected billionaires have little effect. This finding suggests African economies could grow more rapidly if the enormous influence of politically connected elites was curtailed.
Now is the time for meaningful reform.
African nations must implement a wealth tax on high-net-worth individuals and direct the revenue towards essential services in impoverished areas.
According to Oxfam, a modest tax increase consisting of a 1 percent levy on wealth and a 10 percent income tax on the richest individuals could generate $66bn annually, equivalent to 2.29 percent of Africa’s gross domestic product, and help close critical funding gaps in education and electricity access.
Above all, African countries must adopt economic policies focused on equity to reduce poverty and improve wellbeing.
We, the neglected and disenfranchised 95 percent, stand against oligarchy.
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.
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