Digital Colonialism and the Role of Local Intermediaries: Examining Big Tech’s Impact on Data Sovereignty and Human Rights in Africa

Abstract

This article explores digital colonialism in Africa, focusing on how Big Tech and local intermediaries perpetuate data exploitation, infrastructure dependency and algorithmic bias. Applying a Third World Approaches to International Law (TWAIL) lens, it draws parallels between historical colonialism and the modern digital economy, highlighting persistent power imbalances in data control and tech sovereignty. Multinational firms from the Global North extract and monetise African data with little benefit to local communities, reinforcing dependency. Local actors (governments, tech elites and influencers) often enable this through policy gaps and cultural alignment with Western platforms. The article examines the impact on data sovereignty, human rights and economic autonomy, including risks of surveillance and silencing local voices. It calls for policy reforms, investment in African tech ecosystems, digital literacy and robust regional regulation. Ultimately, it advocates for digital justice and self-governance to reclaim Africa’s digital future.

I. Introduction

More than 95 per cent of African countries (52 out of the 54 African countries) were once colonies under the control of European countries. ¹ The two countries that were not formally colonised—Ethiopia and Liberia—experienced heavy external influences from European powers during the infamous scramble for African countries. ² Historically, colonialism (in its classical sense) is characterised by the physical domination of the geographical territory of the colonised state by a foreign country and the consequent control of the people and governance, as well as the exploitation of the resources within the colonised state. ³ Despite the supposed dissipation of traditional colonialism in the mid-twentieth century, the aftermath of the colonialist era continues to linger today and is reflected in the continued reliance by African states on Western civilisation. ⁴

While the idea of traditional colonialism is no longer prevalent in the global political landscape, colonialist practices have evolved into more nuanced and indirect forms, especially in African countries, thereby extending the roots of colonialism in the region. ⁵ Specifically, in today’s digital world, where human relations are significantly impacted and driven by data, a primary source of power is data control. This phenomenon, digital colonialism, is often used to refer to the extraction and control of people’s data, often without their consent, via communication networks owned by Western tech companies. ⁶ This phenomenon is best described as digital neocolonialism, where foreign tech firms exert economic and cultural dominance over African digital spaces, echoing Kwame Nkrumah’s definition of neocolonialism as a system where a nominally independent state’s economic system is controlled externally. ⁷

Unlike traditional colonialism, digital neocolonialism operates through data and infrastructure control, undermining African sovereignty. However, it is worth noting that there are manifestations of digital colonialism beyond the ‘traditionally’ understood control of data. It extends to areas of control and ownership of critical infrastructure by foreign entities and the reliance of the colonised regions on these infrastructures. ⁸ For example, most of the technology, equipment and systems that connect Africans are owned by Western big tech (“Big Tech”) companies, ⁹ thereby exposing many African countries to forms of digital colonialism. The other dimension (perhaps closer to that of data control) is algorithmic colonialism, where algorithms in artificial intelligence (AI)-based systems (e.g., predictive systems) are designed in a manner that encourages algorithmic oppression or fails to consider local contexts in their design. ¹⁰

These are scenarios where algorithmic tools could be used by foreign actors to dominate, control or even extract value from ‘less-powerful’ communities to maintain the asymmetry of actors within the digital space. ¹¹ However, while AI training data moderated by underpaid workers in developing regions may embed certain biases favouring non-Western perspectives, ¹² this does not inherently prevent powerful actors from weaponising algorithms to exploit vulnerable communities. Instead, such biases could be overridden or amplified through dominant entities’ fine-tuning to perpetuate digital asymmetries.

This article focuses more on the data control dimension of digital colonialism (data as a resource and its extraction), which is foundational to the other dimensions of control. Ideally, perhaps the reality would be that the digital resources and infrastructure of a sovereign state would be within the control of that state. However, in most African states, it has been found that heavy reliance on Western technology has resulted in a dynamic where these resources (in some of these African countries) are heavily controlled by external influences. ¹³ In most African states, heavy reliance on Western technology has created a dynamic where resources are controlled by external influences through foreign dominance in digital infrastructure, data extraction, technology transfers and investments. ¹⁴ These influences perpetuate economic dependency, erode national sovereignty, stifle indigenous innovation, exacerbate inequalities and increase vulnerability to exploitation, algorithmic biases and geopolitical manipulations.

The primary tools of colonialism have been external dominance, exploitation and control. ¹⁵ These three elements encapsulate the core mechanisms of historical colonialism, where an external foreign power imposes systemic subjugation over a territory’s people and resources, often through occupation and extraction, differentiating it from internal power imbalances like patriarchal structures within a single society, which lack the exogenous invasion and territorial control inherent to colonialism. This analytical framework isolates colonialism by emphasising its external origins, allowing parallels to be drawn with foreign tech entities’ dominance in Africa’s digital sphere without conflating it with endogenous inequalities. However, it begs the question of whether there are still instances of dominance, exploitation and control of the digital resources and the data economy in African countries. If the answer to this question is in the affirmative, then the idea of digital colonialism becomes a possibility, and the extent of its impacts on data sovereignty and human rights within the region can be investigated.

On this question, opinions are divided. On the one hand, some proponents of the concept of digital colonialism, such as Michael Kwet, argue that the concept captures the dynamics of power and asymmetries of control in the growing digital economies in African countries and the dependency of African nations on foreign technologies and corporations for the running of their digital economies. ¹⁶ The direct implication of this is a perpetuation of Western control in Africa through the operations of these Big Tech corporations and the aid of domestic authorities. On the other hand, some sceptics, such as Banla Samuel Fonyuy, argue that the idea of digital colonialism is a misnomer, ¹⁷ with the argument built on the voluntary nature of the relationship between these Big Tech corporations and national authorities in African countries. The most charitable interpretation of this voluntary stance is that African governments, businesses and individuals actively and willingly partner with foreign tech firms because these collaborations provide critical infrastructure, economic investment and access to global markets that would otherwise be unattainable due to resource constraints. Far from exploitation, this view posits that such relationships foster mutual benefits like job creation, technological transfer and enhanced connectivity while empowering African actors with agency to adapt and innovate within digital ecosystems, ultimately celebrating globalisation as an opportunity for self-determined progress rather than a one-sided imposition.

This voluntarism perspective, however, while highlighting important aspects of agency overlooks the profound structural inequalities that render ‘voluntary’ choices illusory: Big Tech’s monopolistic dominance, combined with Africa’s limited bargaining power and regulatory frameworks, often forces dependencies that extract data and value disproportionately, perpetuating asymmetries akin to historical colonialism despite the absence of overt coercion. For example, Mark Zuckerberg defended Facebook’s Free Basics program in India (with implications for similar initiatives in Africa) by emphasising its benefits and voluntary adoption, stating: ‘Free Basics is a bridge to the full internet and digital equality … This isn’t about Facebook’s commercial interests … Suppose people lose access to free basic services. In that case, they will simply lose access to the opportunities offered by the internet today’. ¹⁸ Similarly, Mark Suzman, on behalf of the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation, downplayed critiques of undue influence in African development projects, noting: ‘we work at the request of national governments and regional bodies like the African Union … We invest a lot to build up institutions, so that they can lead the work altogether’. ¹⁹ However, it is important to also note that the scholarship on digital colonialism is burgeoning and has not yet converged on a single definition, spanning critiques of data extraction versus infrastructure control.

This article supports the former position. Accordingly, in establishing its position, this article examines the concept of digital colonialism in Africa, adopting the TWAIL framework to draw a parallel with ‘traditional’ colonialism. This article attempts to show data resource and data control as a trigger for digital colonialism and how Big Tech and local intermediaries facilitate the perpetuation of digital colonialism in Africa.

Third World Approaches to International Law (TWAIL) is a good lens for analysing digital colonialism in Africa. On this topic, TWAIL scholars argue that existing international law, shaped by historical power imbalances, often serves the interests of the Global North. ²⁰ TWAIL perceives international law as a ‘predatory system that legitimises, reproduces and sustains the plunder and subordination of the Third World by the West’, ²¹ one which is characterised by domination exercised through its principles in this era of globalisation. ²² However, this critical perspective contrasts with TWAIL’s mission to believe in international law, which is both hegemonic and counter-hegemonic. ²³ Based on these foundations, the framework criticises the Eurocentric nature of international law, which often neglects the unique experiences and needs of African societies—a phenomenon that leads to the misapplication of legal norms, such as development models that prioritise Western-defined growth over local needs and priorities. ²⁴

While this article examines general trends in digital colonialism across Africa, the continent’s 54 countries exhibit significant variations due to differing colonial histories, regulatory frameworks and economic contexts, e.g., more acute in Kenya via foreign AI labour exploitation, less so in Rwanda through local tech initiatives. Examples from multiple nations illustrate these differences. Within this understanding, international trade agreements prioritise free data flow, mostly benefitting multinational corporations and potentially undermining African countries’ ability to regulate data and protect their citizens. It may prioritise economic growth and technological advancement as defined by Western standards while neglecting local social, cultural and environmental concerns. This can lead to the imposition of development models that are not sustainable or appropriate for the African context, potentially exacerbating technological inequalities and undermining local autonomy. ²⁵

II. Growth of Digital Colonialism in Africa

Studies have shown that the early development of the Internet was majorly concentrated in the Global North, particularly in the United States. ²⁶ This created a digital disparity, with Africa facing minimal technological access and a dearth of sound digital infrastructure. According to the International Telecommunication Union (ITU), internet penetration rates in Africa were significantly lower than global averages in the early 2000s. ²⁷ This limited access seriously slowed the development of local digital systems and restricted the ability of African countries to participate fully in the digital growth happening at the time. As a result of this polarity, African countries depended very heavily on technologies and platforms developed and controlled by foreign entities based in the Global North. ²⁸

As the era of mobile technology burgeoned, the rise of big data and AI only worsened the exploitation of African data. Studies show that, during the early 2010s, these multinational technology firms were already equipped with thoroughly advanced algorithms and vast resources. ²⁹ This made it very easy to collect and analyse massive amounts of data generated by African users, which was used for a variety of purposes ranging from targeted advertising to influencing political outcomes.

A. Then vs Now: The Evolution of the Idea of Colonialism

The crux of colonialism is the establishment and maintenance of control by one country over another. ³⁰ Such control is usually evident in the political, economic and cultural facets of the dominated country. It is also heavily accompanied by the exploitation of resources and the loss of local autonomy. African scholars provide a critical lens for understanding digital colonialism through neocolonialism. Nkrumah defines neocolonialism as external economic control, paralleling tech firms’ dominance over African data markets. ³¹ Bedjaoui advocates for economic sovereignty, relevant to data ownership, ³² while Touré emphasises self-reliance, informing resistance to digital dependency. ³³ Voluntarists claim tech partnerships drive economic growth, ³⁴ but these often entrench foreign control, reinforcing dependency.

Digital colonialism (even though the description fits more closely with data colonialism, a subset of digital colonialism) ³⁵ involves the collection and exploitation of users’ data by multinational tech companies, often without adequate consent from users or fair benefit-sharing with the data source. ³⁶ This phenomenon is best described as digital neocolonialism, where foreign tech firms exert economic and cultural dominance over African digital spaces. This echoes Kwame Nkrumah’s definition of neocolonialism as a system where a nominally independent state’s economic system is controlled externally. Unlike traditional colonialism, digital neocolonialism operates through data and infrastructure control, undermining African sovereignty. These companies profit tremendously from such data extraction and sometimes provide almost zero benefits to the communities from which the data emanates. For instance, Mercy Mutemi (a Kenyan lawyer who made 2023’s TIME 100 list) sued Meta and OpenAI, claiming that the Kenyan government’s relationship with Big Tech companies is exploitative. ³⁷ This practice perpetuates technological dependence on technologies and digital institutions controlled by foreign entities. Available research suggests that this kind of reliance heavily limits the growth of indigenous technological strengths and prevents the establishment of a sovereign technology ecosystem within developing nations. ³⁸ Additionally, it is difficult to ignore the cultural homogenisation associated with the dominance of Western-centric online platforms and content. In 2024, it was alleged by a study that such cultural bullying not only marginalises local cultures, languages, and perspectives but also leads to a gradual digital erosion of experiences and suppression of values in the technologically dominated nation. ³⁹

Traditional forms of colonialism and digital colonialism are distinct in their manifestations. However, both systems of colonialism share basic similarities. ⁴⁰ The two systems heavily rely on the uneven power relations between dominant and subordinate entities, with the dominant entity siphoning the resources of the subordinate for its interest. Even though both systems are also characterised by the end goal of gaining significant control over the subordinate entity, traditional colonialism leveraged brute military force and political control, while digital colonialism operates through more wily and often invisible means, such as data collection, algorithmic bias and control over digital structures. ⁴¹ The nature of the resources exploited also differs. The European powers of the nineteenth century could be said to be primarily interested in the abundant natural resources of the colonies. However, the tech giants present today seem to be primarily after the data resources in developing nations. The almost invisible nature of these data structures and technologies is the hallmark of this type of colonialism. The subtlety of the scheme shrouds the entire process in mystery, making the situation hard to detect and address. Digital colonialism is more acute in Kenya, where low-wage content moderation for firms like Sama exploits workers for Western AI training, ⁴² compared to South Africa, an outlier with the Protection of Personal Information Act (POPIA) enforcing local data storage. ⁴³ In Ghana, this kind of digital colonialism has been described as the ‘cyberisation’ of African life. ⁴⁴ Rwanda counters this through the ‘Made in Rwanda’ campaign promoting indigenous tech production. ⁴⁵

B. Data as a Trigger for Digital Colonialism in Africa

The advancements of the twenty-first century have placed immense value on data. Multinational technology companies based in the Global North aggressively amass vast amounts of personal data from African users. Recent studies show that over 91 per cent of companies outside Africa achieve immeasurable value from data and analytics. ⁴⁶ This data usually encompasses various aspects of lives, including location, browsing history, social media activity and financial transactions. Generally, these companies claim to use the data for purposes such as product improvement and other personalised services. ⁴⁷ However, critics argue that these companies are, by themselves, the primary beneficiaries and utilise this data for a number of goals, other than those disclosed, ranging from profit to influencing political outcomes. ⁴⁸ While these companies claim to use data to improve services and user experience, critics highlight that their practices may also involve undisclosed objectives, such as maximising profits through targeted advertising or leveraging data analytics to shape political narratives. Such data exploitation usually occurs without proper user consent or transparency mechanisms. Users are treated as commodities rather than as active participants in the digital economy because of the potential data they embody.

Within the African context, this practice thrives because the data ecosystem in most African countries lacks comprehensive laws and regulations. For example, in Nigeria, it is alleged that 55 per cent of the recurring cyber challenges are a result of the country’s poor legal infrastructure for cybersecurity and data protection. ⁴⁹ Such absence of strong legal frameworks, stemming from fragmented and sector-specific regulations across jurisdictions, rapid technological advancements (such as AI), and powerful lobbying by tech giants, and the enticing nature of the collected data motivate multinational tech companies to operate with limited accountability and collect user data without adequate safeguards. For instance, Google faced nearly US$3 billion in fines in 2024 and paid a US$1.4 billion settlement to Texas in May 2025 for unauthorised data collection. These penalties often equate to less than a few weeks’ cash flow for such firms, allowing questionable data practices to continue largely undeterred. ⁵⁰

This research does not suggest that these practices are solely driven by the Global North but rather acknowledges the role of local influences in shaping and sustaining them. Previous research has shown that there are persons, agencies or even institutions within the Global South that serve as intermediaries towards the promotion and execution of this colonialist ideology. ⁵¹ This presents similar attributes to the engagements in traditional colonialism. For instance, Portuguese colonisers and their French counterparts often manipulated and relied heavily on African administrators, middlemen or even private companies, to pursue colonial aspirations. ⁵²

Digital colonialism is also fuelled by the active or passive participation of local middlemen or institutions, some of whose actions are because of structural dependencies, economic incentives or political alignments that tie them to dominant global tech powers. These actors may facilitate the adoption of exploitative digital policies, data extraction practices or surveillance measures, often under the guise of modernisation or development. For instance, in several African countries, local governments have partnered with Google on initiatives like Project Loon, which uses high-altitude balloons to deliver internet access to remote areas, ostensibly to bridge the digital divide and promote economic growth. However, this enables Google to expand its data collection on users’ online behaviours, interests and habits for targeted advertising and algorithmic control, with the primary benefits accruing to the company rather than fostering genuine local data sovereignty or equitable development.

Just as traditional colonial intermediaries were instrumental in maintaining imperial control, today’s local enablers of digital colonialism may help sustain asymmetric power dynamics in the global tech ecosystem. Whether through regulatory complacency, corporate partnerships or policy decisions that prioritise foreign interests over local digital sovereignty, their involvement highlights the complexity of contemporary digital exploitation, a subtlety often overlooked in existing literature on digital colonialism, which predominantly frames power dynamics as unidirectional from the Global North to the South. By highlighting these local intermediaries, this analysis refines the diagnostic framework and sharpens policy prescriptions for addressing asymmetric tech ecosystems. This focus on local intermediaries offers a novel lens for understanding digital colonialism, challenging the conventional Global North-South narrative.

III. The Role of Local Intermediaries in Digital Colonialism

Local intermediaries play a significant role in the ongoing dynamics of digital colonialism in Africa. Admittedly, their roles may be overlooked. However, their actions and omissions always have a tangible effect on the digital ecosystem in Africa. These intermediaries often include governments, tech leaders and social influencers, for example.

A. Governments

Government contribution in this context is primarily driven by partnerships with Big Tech, such as collaborations between several African governments and Facebook on the rollout of its Free Basics program, which offers free but limited internet access to users in developing regions ostensibly to expand connectivity and digital inclusion. This model also enables Facebook to harvest metadata on users’ habits, interests and behaviours through proxy servers, extracting valuable data for commercial purposes while creating a segregated ‘poor internet’ that benefits the company far more than local populations, often with minimal regulatory oversight from the partnering governments.

The need to experience economic growth and realise technological progress is the major reason many African governments seek to collaborate with multinational companies. ⁵³ These partnerships usually involve agreements encompassing infrastructure development, data sharing, etc. As a recent example, Chinese influence in Africa—besides the already mentioned large-scale importation of tech products—has been enhanced via the Digital Silk Road (DSR) initiative, ⁵⁴ and many others. China’s DSR, launched in 2015, builds digital infrastructure in Africa but raises data sovereignty concerns. ⁵⁵ In Senegal, Huawei’s $79 million data centre may shift data control from Western to Chinese servers, risking surveillance and dependency, reflecting neocolonial control despite China’s lack of historical colonial ties. These collaborations typically result in certain benefits to the local community, such as improved connectivity and access to technology. However, they may also raise serious concerns about data sovereignty, privacy and the potential for exploitation. ⁵⁶ A classic example is the Kenyan government’s partnership with Safaricom, a major telecommunications company. ⁵⁷ Safaricom, 40 per cent owned by German Vodafone, reported $620 million in profits in 2019, largely directed to foreign shareholders, mirroring colonial resource extraction. ⁵⁸ Its M-Pesa platform collects extensive user data, raising privacy concerns due to foreign control. ⁵⁹ Local and regional telcos like Safaricom (partly owned by a foreign entity) serve as pivotal intermediaries by managing mobile networks and data services, facilitating Big Tech’s entry while extracting local user data for global monetisation; for instance, in Ethiopia, the government collaborates with state-owned Ethio Telecom to deploy Huawei-backed 5G infrastructure under the Digital Ethiopia 2025 strategy, yielding connectivity gains but raising sovereignty risks through Chinese data access protocols.

Home state governments also exert significant influence through their regulatory frameworks and control over critical infrastructure. ⁶⁰ Weak data protection laws and limited regulatory oversight can create an enabling environment for data exploitation by multinational tech companies. While 37 of 54 African countries have data protection laws, enforcement is weak due to resource constraints. Kenya’s 2019 Data Protection Act lacks robust enforcement, allowing firms like Facebook’s Free Basics to restrict internet access, reinforcing dependency. ⁶¹ On the other hand, strong regulatory frameworks can protect user privacy, promote data sovereignty and encourage the development of local digital ecosystems. An example is Nigeria’s National Information Technology Development Agency (NITDA), which has made efforts to strengthen data protection regulations through the Nigeria Data Protection Regulation (NDPR) and the recent enactment of the Nigeria Data Protection Act 2023. ⁶² Unfortunately, poor enforcement measures have failed to curb the aggressive colonialist tendency exerted by these Big Tech companies. For instance, in Kenya, Cambridge Analytica harvested Facebook data to influence presidential elections in 2013 and 2017, yet enforcement measures failed as the company filed for bankruptcy and dissolved before facing full accountability or sanctions. ⁶³ Government roles vary; Nigeria’s weak enforcement of the Nigeria Data Protection Act enables exploitation, while Rwanda’s government invests in local AI hubs like Kigali Innovation City, ⁶⁴ reducing dependency, making it less acute. Benin and Togo are outliers with national data centres for sovereignty. ⁶⁵

B. (Local) Tech Leaders

Some local tech leaders strive for innovation and digital inclusion in their nations and host African countries. However, their actions can sometimes inadvertently contribute to the dynamics of digital colonialism. Many African tech startups rely heavily on technologies and platforms developed by foreign companies. This results in a severe limitation of the technological and digital sovereignty of the concerned countries. ⁶⁶ In addition, the need to grow and get funding from credible sources often tempts local tech companies to look towards developing solutions that may cater to international markets. ⁶⁷ This need makes them neglect the specific challenges faced by local communities. Such indirect manipulation leads to a situation where local technology environments serve the interests of global or foreign markets instead of local needs.

Furthermore, this reliance on foreign-developed technologies and funding sources often dictates the direction of innovation, shaping it to align with external priorities rather than grassroots demands. As a result, African tech ecosystems become mere extensions of larger global networks, where the rules, infrastructure and even revenue streams are controlled by entities beyond the continent. This not only reinforces economic dependency but also limits the capacity for homegrown, contextually relevant technological solutions. The dominance of foreign platforms in Africa’s digital space means that local developers and entrepreneurs must conform to externally imposed standards, data policies and algorithmic biases, further deepening the cycle of digital colonialism. Without deliberate efforts to build self-sustaining, locally driven tech industries, Africa risks remaining a consumer rather than a creator in the digital revolution. South African startups leverage POPIA for local innovation, contrasting Kenya’s reliance on foreign funding. Regional tech companies and telcos further complicate this landscape as intermediaries: Nigeria’s Andela, a talent accelerator, partners with U.S. giants like Google to train developers but channels talent towards global platforms, perpetuating dependency; similarly, pan-African telco MTN Group (headquartered in South Africa) dominates mobile money via MoMo, integrating with foreign fintech companies like Visa, which boosts inclusion but funnels transaction data offshore, stifling truly autonomous local innovation ecosystems.

C. Social Media Influencers

Social media influencers in Africa tend to promote Western ideologies and technology. ⁶⁸ This is a major reason for the amplification of Western narratives and ideologies and the subsequent marginalisation of local voices and perspectives. This is, besides the fact that most influencers actively encourage the consumption of foreign technologies. This action severely affects the development of local economies and deepens the economic dependence of these developing countries. ⁶⁹ In 2021, a study found that 70 per cent of female university students in Accra were dissatisfied with their natural hair. ⁷⁰ The study further revealed that most of these students were heavily persuaded by social media influencers who mainly advertised European hair brands and styles.

Distinct from the amplification of Western ideologies, social media platforms have been known to spread misinformation. This can be easily manipulated by digital colonialists to disseminate false or misleading information, which can have significant social and political consequences. A classic example is the 2019 Nigerian general elections, where social media contained numerous rumours and propaganda aimed at causing political unrest. ⁷¹

The pervasive promotion of Western ideologies and technologies by these influencers does not merely shape consumer preferences; it fundamentally alters cultural self-perception and economic agency. When local voices are drowned out by an incessant reinforcement of foreign ideals, it erodes indigenous innovation, creativity and perhaps even self-worth. The psychological impact of this digital neo-colonialism may be profound, as seen in the internalisation of Western beauty standards, language preferences and even political leanings. Beyond cultural implications, the unchecked influence of social media also presents an avenue for external actors to manipulate public opinion and destabilise governance structures. The spread of misinformation (whether through algorithmic bias, coordinated disinformation campaigns or influencer-driven narratives) can sway elections, incite division or reinforce neocolonial economic policies that favour foreign interests over national sovereignty.

Such interference tactics are employed globally, even among Global North powers in mutual rivalries; they often exacerbate existing asymmetries rooted in colonial legacies, allowing dominant actors to perpetuate control over formerly colonised regions. In Ghana, influencers amplify Western beauty standards, marginalising local voices more than in Egypt, where state media counters via digital nationalism. Telcos and regional tech firms amplify influencer impacts by providing the digital infrastructure: In Kenya, Safaricom (as a telco intermediary) collaborates with influencers to promote its locally developed M-Pesa mobile wallet, which integrates with global systems like PayPal, fostering financial inclusion yet embedding foreign algorithmic controls; a 2023 study by the African Digital Rights Hub highlighted how such promotions in Uganda via MTN’s networks inadvertently prioritise Western apps, marginalising indigenous content creators.

IV. Consequences of Digital Colonialism in Africa and the Role of Big Tech

A. Impact on Data Sovereignty

Digital colonialism in Africa may be said to mirror a modern-day ‘Scramble for Africa’, where Western tech giants exploit, control and commercialise African data to consolidate market dominance and economic power. ⁷² One primary consequence of this trend is the loss of control over national and personal data. For instance, in the 2010s, Facebook’s Cambridge Analytica scandal highlighted how the personal data of millions of users, including many Africans, was harvested without their knowledge or consent and used for political manipulation. ⁷³ Moreover, Cambridge Analytica’s involvement in Kenya exemplifies the tangible dangers of digital colonialism, as it drew developing nations with emerging infrastructures into the core of global politics through a British firm’s unchecked political experimentation amid weak digital protection laws. This reflects de Sousa Santos’s critique of linear time where dominant core-country knowledges prevail, and raises the possibility that earlier inclusion of such countries in technology dialogues could have averted the rise of right-wing extremism, surprises like Trump and Brexit and the overall turmoil of 2017. ⁷⁴ This incident underscored the vulnerability of African and Global South citizens to data exploitation by global tech companies. Additionally, and recently, concerns have been raised in Kenya about security lapses in Chinese-powered surveillance technology, which may provide Chinese state-owned entities with unauthorised access to sensitive data. ⁷⁵

Big Tech companies often have very advanced technologies and a broad reach. Such global reach often operates outside the regulatory framework of African countries. ⁷⁶ This allows them to pull large amounts of personal user data without adequate oversight, checks or consent. Essentially, this presumptuous and unchecked data collection undermines national data sovereignty, as many African governments now have limited control over how their citizens’ data is collected and used. ⁷⁷ A 2022 study argued that digital colonialism not only strips governments of their oversight powers but also drags them into a new form of subjugation, one likened to digital enslavement, where control and autonomy are ceded to foreign tech giants. ⁷⁸ Loss is acute in Kenya (e.g., Huawei’s 4G dominance), but mitigated in South Africa via the POPIA.

Digital colonialism could also be quite subtle in that sometimes even the local governments facilitate and exacerbate such digital subjugation with the policies they support. The unchecked influence of foreign tech companies can also undermine democratic processes and political stability. ⁷⁹ This is typified by the manipulation of data and the spread of misinformation through social media platforms as an avenue to influence elections, fuel social unrest and undermine public trust in institutions.

B. Business and Human Rights Concerns

The growing influence of Big Tech in Africa must be critically examined through the lens of Business and Human Rights (BHR) principles as enshrined in international frameworks such as the United Nations Guiding Principles on Business and Human Rights (UNGPs), the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights and the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR), as this will be a step or rather framework for decolonisation. These instruments affirm the responsibility of businesses to respect human rights and in some circumstances to remedy human rights abuses. The unchecked data exploitation by foreign tech companies in Africa directly contradicts these commitments, which many tech companies have embraced. ⁸⁰

The mass collection, processing and commercialisation of personal data by foreign entities not only erodes individual privacy but also strips African governments of their digital sovereignty (a modern-day parallel to historical economic and territorial domination). ⁸¹ The right to privacy, recognised as a fundamental human right in international law, is routinely violated through opaque data practices that lack transparency, oversight and meaningful consent. In international law, fundamental human rights are defined as universal, inalienable entitlements essential to human dignity and codified in core instruments such as Article 12 of the UDHR and Article 17 of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), setting them apart from ordinary human rights that may not enjoy the same elevated, binding status across jurisdictions; these opaque practices infringe upon the right to privacy by permitting arbitrary interferences with individuals’ personal lives and data without lawful justification, necessity or proportionality as mandated by these treaties. ⁸² A 2019 study revealed that 86 per cent of privacy rights infringements on African digital users went unchecked by African governments, regulatory authorities and telecommunications companies due to insufficient independent oversight, weak enforcement of data protection laws and compliance with state surveillance directives without adequate safeguards, highlighting the deep structural gaps in accountability. ⁸³

The vast data extraction ecosystem reinforces a new form of dependency, where African states and individuals unwittingly surrender control over their information infrastructure to foreign corporations. Google’s partnership with SubCom to construct the world’s largest private data network exemplifies this dynamic, underscoring the extent to which data collection remains a primary strategic objective for Big Tech, often at the expense of local rights and governance. ⁸⁴ This undersea cable initiative, which connects Google’s global cloud data centres to enhance internet connectivity and data transfer speeds, has sparked criticisms over heightened risks of government surveillance, corporate data monopolisation and geopolitical tensions that undermine local data sovereignty and privacy protections in affected regions. ⁸⁵ Beyond privacy concerns, unregulated data exploitation may fuel algorithmic discrimination, targeted misinformation and economic inequality, all of which contradict the principles of dignity, equality and self-determination that underpin international human rights law. Without stringent regulatory frameworks and enforcement mechanisms, Africa may risk becoming a data colony, where individuals are not only surveilled but also economically and politically manipulated. The unchecked power of Big Tech in the region demands urgent intervention from the state, ensuring that digital governance aligns with international human rights standards and that businesses operating in Africa are held accountable for their human rights impacts.

Studies have shown that several content moderation policies of some tech platforms are largely designed for Western audiences and may not wholly reflect the many cultural and linguistic realities of African societies. ⁸⁶ For instance, policies often misinterpret culturally specific expressions, such as traditional African attire or local political discourse, as violations, leading to the over-removal of content. ⁸⁷ This may lead to the suppression of local values and the marginalisation of certain groups, thereby inhibiting the free flow of information and ideas (a core right embedded in the ACHPR and UDHR). For example, the non-recognition of some African languages led to the removal of legitimate content and the silencing of local voices on some Big Tech platforms. ⁸⁸ Even online communication in African American English has been tagged as harmful content and removed, ⁸⁹ with algorithmic biases suppressing voices more in linguistically diverse Ghana than in regulated Rwanda.

Furthermore, the impact of digital colonialism is particularly acute for marginalised communities in Africa. These communities usually lack access to proper digital literacy and resources, and this makes them very vulnerable to data exploitation and digital exclusion. A 2024 UNESCO study showed that inhabitants of these communities are largely unaware of the risks associated with sharing personal data online. Business Day Nigeria reported that as of 2022, over 50 per cent of Nigerians (a country with a population of over 230 million people) lacked the necessary digital skills to fully understand the impact of data retention by online interfaces. ⁹⁰ These factors make them easy prey for data breaches and scams. ⁹¹ An earlier study alleged that some tech platforms deliberately design clickwrap and browsewrap agreements ⁹² in ways that subtly manipulate users into clicking the ‘accept’ button, often before they have the chance to read or fully understand the platform’s privacy terms and conditions. This exploitative design tactic disproportionately affects individuals with limited digital literacy or insufficient proficiency in the platform’s language, effectively coercing them into consenting to data practices they may not comprehend. Such user interface strategies undermine informed consent, a fundamental principle of digital rights and consumer protection. ⁹³ This research does not suggest that these practices are solely driven by the Global North but rather acknowledges the role of local influences in shaping and sustaining them, with variations: for instance, more pronounced in Nigeria due to regulatory gaps, but less acute in outliers like Benin and Togo whee there are national data centres. ⁹⁴

C. Resource Exploitation

Just as minerals were extracted for profit during traditional colonialism, African data is now regarded as a highly valuable commodity, sought after by Big Tech companies due to its sheer volume, diversity and untapped market potential. With a rapidly growing digital population, Africa provides a rich and dynamic data ecosystem that fuels algorithmic development, targeted advertising and AI training. However, much like past extractive industries, this data is often harvested without equitable compensation, transparency or local control, reinforcing a digital dependency that mirrors historical patterns of economic exploitation. This data (which ranges from user behaviour, social interactions and even biometric information) is often extracted, analysed and monetised with little to no benefit or control for the African nations or individuals. ⁹⁵

There are claims that the advancement of the Global North is largely driven by the deliberate underdevelopment of the Global South, whether through historical colonial domination of its people and resources or, more recently, through multinational control over technology. ⁹⁶ The fact that many African countries do not have the wherewithal to develop and maintain cutting-edge digital infrastructure compounds the situation. The result of this is heavy reliance on the same foreign multinationals for internet access, data storage and processing. ⁹⁷ Such dependence may be what grants tangible power to these companies, permitting them to control data flows and extract value from African markets. And such cycle of economic dependency and inequality threatens the development of self-sufficient digital infrastructure in Africa.

V. Pathways Towards Digital Justice and Sovereignty

A. Promoting African Digital Governance

Reports have shown that African social media users generate significant advertising revenue for global platforms like Meta and X (formerly Twitter), yet these companies reinvest very little into local digital infrastructure or data protection initiatives. To counteract this imbalance, local communities must be empowered to develop and enforce their own data governance frameworks—systems that not only dictate how data is collected and used but also ensure that its benefits are equitably distributed. For example, in Nigeria, the BudgIT civic tech initiative enables communities to govern budget data transparently, using participatory platforms to decide data use and ensure public funds benefit local needs like healthcare and education. ⁹⁸ Researchers argue that such frameworks should function as socio-technical ecosystems, integrating technological tools, community-led governance structures and enforceable protocols that guide data usage. A well-designed framework, as suggested by experts, should be ‘clearly articulated, developed over time in consultation with all involved parties, and formally binding’. ⁹⁹

A key step in this direction is the establishment of community data banks, where locally generated data is stored, accessed and utilised under transparent and community-approved guidelines. For example, initiatives like community data trusts have demonstrated how local populations can collectively manage and leverage their data for economic and social development rather than surrendering control to foreign corporations. These banks ensure community control through participatory governance, where locals set rules, own data collectively and direct resource use (e.g., electricity and water for storage) towards shared benefits, regardless of physical location. By fostering localised data ownership and accountability structures, African communities can ensure that their data serves their own needs (supporting innovation, public services and economic growth) rather than being exploited for external profit.

B. Policy Recommendations

My primary policy recommendation is the development of measures to strengthen regional and international regulations for the digital economy. African states can counter digital neocolonialism by strengthening data protection laws, as seen in South Africa’s POPIA, establishing community data banks for local control, like Senegal’s data centre if locally managed, and promoting open-source technologies inspired by Ubuntu. Advocating for data sovereignty at the UN via the African Digital Compact empowers African agency. ¹⁰⁰ Essentially, a primary challenge is the absence of a properly defined and comprehensive framework that regulates the digital economy in most African countries. These regulations ought to address critical issues such as data protection, privacy, cybersecurity and the ethical use of AI.

To strengthen digital independence, African nations must collaborate to develop and implement sound, locally driven regulatory frameworks that safeguard citizens’ rights while fostering innovation and economic growth. A good example of such a framework is the African Union’s Convention on Cyber Security and Personal Data Protection, which provides an essential foundation for data governance, cybersecurity and digital rights protection. However, a major gap is its slow ratification; despite being adopted in 2014, only a handful of AU member states have ratified it, significantly limiting its impact. Additionally, the Convention lacks detailed implementation mechanisms, particularly in areas such as cross-border data flows, algorithmic accountability and enforcement of AI ethics standards. While it is a valuable starting point, Africa needs broader, enforceable regulations that address emerging digital challenges and ensure a unified, sovereign approach to governing its digital economy, such as cross-border data flows, algorithmic accountability and enforcement of AI ethics standards.

Africa needs broader, enforceable regulations, developed by pan-African bodies like the African Union, for a unified continental approach, complemented by harmonised national laws from individual governments to address local contexts, that tackle emerging digital challenges and ensure a sovereign governance of its digital economy. ¹⁰¹ For example, the AU’s Continental AI Strategy and Data Policy Framework provides regional guidelines on ethical AI and data protection, while national laws like South Africa’s POPIA and Kenya’s Data Protection Act enforce algorithmic accountability and cross-border data rules at the country level. ¹⁰² This requires greater political commitment, stronger enforcement structures and harmonisation with global digital rights frameworks to ensure Africa’s digital future is both competitive and rights-respecting.

The absence of measures for accountability for Big Tech multinationals operating in Africa is a key reason for their continued extraction and use of data generated in Africa. Research has previously indicated that dealing with restrictions of digital sovereignty will require (beyond countering power asymmetries) addressing potential harms via legislation. ¹⁰³ As a result, it is important to set up systems and structures that will render them accountable for their use of such data, including retroactively through reparations for past exploitation. For instance, scholars have proposed ‘algorithmic reparation’ as a framework to address structural inequalities perpetuated by Big Tech’s machine learning systems trained on historically biased and exploited data, such as Amazon’s recruitment tool that disadvantaged women by reflecting male-dominated past hiring patterns, requiring adjustments to prioritise underrepresented groups and rectify harms. Measures such as mandatory data disclosure requirements, independent audits of data practices and the establishment of effective processes for redress for users whose digital or human rights have been infringed.

VI. Conclusion

Digital colonialism poses a major threat to Africa’s technological sovereignty, economic independence and human rights. This article argues that Big Tech’s unchecked power, aided by local intermediaries, has created a system where African countries remain data-rich but power-poor. Like historical colonialism, foreign entities extract and monetise African data with little local benefit, reinforcing dependency and exclusion. Reliance on external tech infrastructure limits Africa’s capacity to innovate, compete and shape its digital destiny. Yet, the continent holds agency. Achieving digital sovereignty requires stronger regional regulation, investment in local tech ecosystems, Afrocentric data governance and civil society empowerment. Africa must shift from digital consumer to producer by asserting control over its data and infrastructure. Without this, it risks marginalisation in a global tech order dominated by external powers. While this analysis generalises, it acknowledges variation, e.g., Rwanda’s digital policies or Togo’s data centres, as key areas for deeper research and narrative nuance.