Achille Mbembe and Felwine Sarr’s edited collection, The Politics of Time, constitutes a rigorous and intellectually ambitious interrogation of Africa’s relationship with temporality, history, and futurity. By convening a constellation of critical voices from across the continent, the editors disrupt conventional, often Eurocentric, narratives that position Africa as existing “behind” or “outside” of history. Rather than accepting this static framing, the volume advances a conception of Africa as an active, generative space that continuously negotiates and redefines its temporal and historical position. In doing so, The Politics of Time resituates the continent within global intellectual discourse, portraying it as both an agent and architect of its own temporal imagination.

The organization of the volume reflects this intellectual ambition. Rather than adhering to a single, linear narrative, the collection adopts a deliberately nonlinear structure that mirrors the complexity and heterogeneity of African temporal experiences. The various contributions, drawn from disciplines such as philosophy, history, art, and sociology, are interwoven to form a textured and polyphonic dialogue on time and being. Through this interdisciplinary engagement, the volume challenges reductionist representations of Africa as a uniform cultural or historical entity. Instead, it foregrounds the continent’s multiplicity—its diverse rhythms, epistemologies, and modalities of existence. This multiplicity, as the editors suggest, constitutes not a deficiency but a strength: it enables the articulation of an African modernity that is at once internally grounded and outwardly dynamic.

In his contribution, “From Imagining Identity to Thinking African Becomings,” philosopher Suleimane Bachir Diagne offers one of the collection’s most compelling theoretical interventions. Diagne advocates for a decisive epistemological shift in African thought—from reactive “identity politics,” which defines Africanness primarily in opposition to colonial or Western frameworks, to a proactive orientation of “becoming.” This conceptual reorientation emphasizes creative possibility, openness, and relationality, positioning African thought not as a counterpoint to the West but as a productive site of philosophical innovation in its own right. Diagne’s argument invites readers to reconsider Africa’s temporal positioning: rather than being defined by its past traumas, Africa is envisioned as a space of continual emergence and self-fashioning. In this sense, the essay exemplifies the volume’s broader project of reimagining Africa’s temporal and intellectual agency.

“Circulations,” another central chapter in the volume, extends this argument by dismantling the persistent myth of a static or ahistorical Africa. The chapter underscores the extent to which African societies are characterized by circulation—of people, goods, ideas, and forms of expression. This dynamic mobility, Mbembe contends, destabilizes inherited conceptions of temporality and modernity. Far from existing “outside of history,” Africa participates in a continuous process of transformation that both influences and is influenced by global flows. Mbembe situates this condition within what he terms an “African modernity,” a mode of being that refuses linear temporal hierarchies and instead affirms simultaneity, interconnection, and renewal. The chapter thus repositions Africa not as a peripheral recipient of global modernity but as an originator of alternative maternities with their own distinct temporal logics.

The question of education emerges as a critical axis of discussion in several chapters, notably François Vergès’s “Un/learning: Rethinking Teaching in Africa.” These essays undertake a penetrating critique of educational systems that remain shaped by colonial legacies, often reproducing epistemological dependencies rather than fostering intellectual autonomy. Vergès calls for a fundamental reconfiguration of educational paradigms to ensure that learning is both contextually relevant and socially transformative. She argues that education in Africa must move beyond the instrumental logic of vocational preparation to cultivate a pedagogy grounded in local realities, cultural epistemes, and collective aspirations. Such an approach, she suggests, would not only empower individuals but also enable societies to articulate futures consistent with their own historical and existential trajectories. Education, therefore, becomes a site of decolonial praxis and a mechanism for reclaiming Africa’s temporal sovereignty.

In conclusion, The Politics of Time transcends the boundaries of a conventional edited volume. It stands as a foundational intervention in contemporary African thought, offering a comprehensive reappraisal of how temporality, history, and futurity are conceptualized on the continent. Through its interdisciplinary methodology and its insistence on Africa’s agency in producing knowledge, the collection challenges enduring hierarchies of time and representation that have long structured global discourse. Mbembe and Sarr, together with their contributors, propose a vision of Africa not as an object of history but as a subject that continuously shapes and redefines it. By bridging past, present, and future in a dialogic manner, The Politics of Time compels both African and global audiences to reconceptualize the temporal dimensions of modernity and to recognize Africa’s indispensable role in theorizing the human condition.