Wilfred Ukpong: Niger-Delta / Future-Cosmos @ Autograph ABP

‘Community history, ecology politics, indigenous environmentalism, extractive capitalism, and cultural evolution – these meditations on my homeland demonstrate how the art and film-making process can be employed to promote youth empowerment, challenge colonial narratives and disrupt systems of knowledge production.’
(Wilfred Ukpong)

Autograph ABP is a gallery dedicated to work by contemporary Black artists. It’s located just off Shoreditch High Street and is well worth a visit. It contains two gallery spaces, one on the ground, one on the first floor, and admission is FREE. The only slight snag is the opening hours which you need to check before you go (for example, it only opens at 12.30 on Saturdays).

But the thing about Autograph ABP is the work they display is always good and frequently outstanding. It has a case for being the best small gallery in London.

Strongly, We Believe In The Power of this Motile Thing That Will Takes Us There #2 by Wilfred Ukpong © Wilfred Ukpong. Courtesy of the artist and Blazing Century Studios

Niger-Delta/Future-Cosmos

Currently the downstairs gallery, gallery 1, is hosting a display dedicated to recent work by Wilfred Ukpong, titled ‘Niger-Delta/Future-Cosmos’.

The basic premise is an environmental one. Ukpong is protesting – as Nigerian artists, poets, playwrights and film-makers have been doing for decades – about the ruination of the Niger Delta by 70 or more years of ruthless and often careless oil extraction.

Nigeria and oil

Notoriously, Nigeria is a kleptocratic state in which various factions of the ruling elite vie with each other to gain control of the nation’s phenomenal oil revenues in order to steal them for themselves. See the relevant chapter of Tom Burgis’s searing 2015 exposé, The Looting Machine. So cynical is Burgis that he doesn’t bother referring to the president of Nigeria by his formal title but as ‘the captain of Nigeria’s looting machine’ (Burgis page 201) and quotes Nigerian analyst, Clement Nwankwo, describing the country’s largest political party, the People’s Democratic Party (PDP) as: ‘not a political party. It’s a platform to seize power and then share the resultant booty’ (Burgis p.203).

Oil was discovered in the delate of the river Niger in 1956 and the enormous wealth it generates for a small elite has been ruining the country for nearly 70 years. Oil currently accounts for 80% of Nigerian government revenue (Burgis p.63).

As a political economy took hold that was based on embezzlement and manipulating public office for private gain, government contracts for the upkeep of public goods that support industrialisation – a functioning electricity system among them – were diverted to the cronies of the rulers of the day. The pattern was the same [in Nigeria] as in Angola or Congo: the more the non-oil economy withered, the greater the impulse to embezzle, perpetuating the cycle of looting. (Burgis p.76)

Countries whose economies are largely reliant on oil production are commonly referred to as a petrostates. A country where the ruler entrenches power in himself and his clique, using authoritarian security forces against any form of protest, is called a petro-dictatorship. But so extreme is Nigeria’s corruption that Burgis coins the phrase petro-nightmare to describe Nigeria’s descent into universal corruption and an endless series of military coups.

To give a sense of the scale of the theft, in 2014 reforming banker Lamido Sanusi estimated that corruption at Nigeria’s national oil company, NNPC, was robbing the national treasury of $1 billion per month (Burgis p.205).

‘By and by,I Wil Carry this Burden of Hope, till the Laments of my Newborn is Heard #2’ by Wilfred Ukpong (2017) © Wilfred Ukpong. Courtesy of the artist and Blazing Century Studios

Niger Delta pollution

But not only has oil production corrupted and undermined Nigerian politics for over half a century, but it has had a catastrophic impact on the region where most of the oil extraction takes place, in the delta of the mighty river Niger, which covers 27,000 square miles and makes up 7.5% of Nigeria’s land mass. Beside the predictable impact of gas flares and burn-off into the atmosphere, the oil industry in the area has a long sorry history of disastrous oil spills, which has been compounded by a terrorist and insurgent attacks on pipelines from a variety of motivations, from siphoning off raw oil to sheer destructiveness.

The cumulative impact has been to make the Niger Delta one of the most polluted places on earth, and local activists, Nigerian writers and artists, and Western environmentalist groups have been publicising the issue for a long, long time.

Afrofuturism

How on earth can you, as an artist, respond adequately to such an enormous, ongoing, unstoppable social and environmental apocalypse? Ukpong’s response is simple and compelling – Afrofuturism.

Afrofuturism expresses notions of Black identity, agency and freedom through art, creative works and activism that envision liberated futures for Black life. (National Museum of African American History and Culture)

(I first encountered Afrofuturism at the Barbican’s 2017 science fiction show, Into The Unknown, where it was represented by the mysterious 2009 film Pumzi, directed by Wanuri Kahiu. Ukpoki’s vision has many things in common with Kahiu’s.)

Niger-Delta/Future-Cosmos

So Ukpong has taken his response to this disaster in his home region into an alternative reality and a strange and visionary future. The show consists of just eight photos and 2 videos but they are all riveting. All the photos are fantastic expressions of Ukpong’s vivid and striking Afrofuturism, very big, super-clear digital photos of Black people painted a deep shade of oil black and wearing strange curled headpieces, photographed in strange poses holding mysterious devices or artefacts.

‘The Advent of the Visionaries – A Screen To Behold’ by Wilfred Ukpong (2017) © Wilfred Ukpong. Courtesy of the artist and Blazing Century Studios

As the curators put it (and I apologise for the recap of the economic and social issues I’ve outlined above):

Once a major producer of palm oil for British colonisers, the Niger Delta is considered the mainstay of the Nigerian economy for its large oil reserves and its rich biodiversity due to the presence of rivers, mangroves, freshwater forests, and marine estuaries. In recent years, the region has been at the centre of environmental and social justice campaigns, challenging the pollution caused by major spills and flares at the hands of oil and gas industry giants.

The works in the exhibition are all set in the Niger Delta, Ukpong’s homeland. Driven by a profound desire to effect change, the artist worked with more than two hundred young people from marginalised, oil-producing communities to collectively address the historical and environmental issues in the oil-rich region.

The resulting photographs and film powerfully reference local rituals, ceremonial motifs, and symbols interwoven into a complex future cosmology.

All the photos are beautifully composed, beautifully clear, sunlit of strange objects, rituals, dress. I loved the weirdness and otherness of it. I loved the digital clarity of the images. I love science fiction so this pushed all my buttons right down to the great way all the photos are embedded in frames made from shiny black plastic folded into metal rods in such a way as to convey the sense of a rippling flood of black oil cascading around the alien future people captured in the photos.

Installation view of ‘Are My Dreams Too Bold for the Carbon Skin I Bear #1’ by Wilfred Ukpong (2017) Photo by the author © Wilfred Ukpong. Courtesy of the artist and Blazing Century Studios

They are so strong and clear and strangely imagined and beautifully designed and stunningly photographed. In their strong incomprehensibility they make perfect sense of mankind’s absurd destruction of the natural world. When reality is absurd, why not respond absurdly?

First film: FUTURE-WORLD-EXV

As well as the eight photos there are two films in this exhibition. The first, in the main room alongside the wonderful photos, is titled ‘FUTURE-WORLD-EXV’ and is 16 minutes long.

It is set in the year 2060 and follows a (Black) oil worker who is haunted by dreams of environmental disaster before coming to a grisly end on a wide smooth beach where his corpse is discovered by women members of a people who live in a watery environment and worship a water goddess. It is weird and it is absolutely wonderful.

In the particular scene I watched one particular woman covered in freckled white paint laments over the corpse, rubs and strokes it before climbing onto his body and then, lo, the body has also become white and speckled and the corpse animates, he gets up, they hold hands and walk into the waves. Sounds a bit clichéd but I found it genuinely strange and intense and riveting.

Installation view of ‘FUTURE-WORLD-EXV’ by Wilfred Ukpong, showing the final scene as the speckled man and woman walk into the waves, wearing the distinctive headgear of Ukpong’s futureworld. Photo by the author

Second film: Earth Sounds

The second film is set apart from the suite of 8 photos and the first film, which are linked by the vibrant colours and strange headgear of his science fiction futureworld. This one is titled ‘Earth Sounds’ and dates from 2021. It is 30 minutes long and less plotted and structured than ‘FUTURE-WORLD-EXV’.

It is the film of a performance in which Ukpong, again almost naked, flanked by two masked women carrying heraldic black flags, journeys on a wooden boat (a traditional canoe?) across a narrow waterway cluttered with mangroves or swamp plants, bushes and trees hemming them in. In this boat Ukpong is a shaman, performing obscure rituals, often involving a peculiar artefact, a yard-long circular wooden chest, painted red with yellow insignia of some sort, bound with heavy black metal clasps and with carved faces at each end.

Maybe the shaking of branches and the strange sounds he makes are invocations, designed to protect the Niger Delta from its dreadful despoliation. Whatever’s going on it is weird and wonderful up to the moment when the shaman kisses the wooden face on the chest and then, ritualistically, throws it into the polluted swamp water, and then dives in after it.

This isn’t high-budget Hollywood production values, there’s an obvious amateurishness to the camerawork and the sound quality, but this makes it all the more vivid and immediate, in all its mysterious, hypnotic power. Strange, compelling.

Summary

All this, all these ideas, designs, visions, images, sounds and movements, all of it happens in just one medium-sized gallery, but I came out reeling from the brilliant conception and luminous enactment of Ukpong’s brilliant vision.


Related links

Nigerian corruption

Nigerian fiction

Environmental art reviews

More Autograph ABP exhibitions

The Trouble With Nigeria by Chinua Achebe (1983)

Political and biographical background

Nigeria attained independence in 1960. Twenty-three years later author, poet and essayist Chinua Achebe published this extended essay briskly summarising the problems his nation faced. Before we get to the text, there’s some interesting biography to point out. Achebe had published his last novel, A Man of The People in 1966, so what had he been doing between 1966 and this publication 16 years later?

Soon after the publication of A Man of The People Nigeria experienced the 1966 military coup. This in turn led to the Nigerian Civil War, triggered when the region of Biafra broke away from Nigeria in 1967.  In fact some in the military thought the ending of A Man of The People so closely paralleled the real-life coup that he must have had some foreknowledge so he had to flee to Biafra to escape arrest. Achebe supported Biafran independence and acted as ambassador for the new state, travelling to European and North American cities to drum up support. He helped draft a declaration of principles for the new country. The Achebe family narrowly escaped disaster several times during the war, including a bombing of their house. The general disruption favoured the form of poetry and in 1971 he published the collection ‘Beware, Soul Brother.

With the end of the war, he returned to the family home in Ogidi only to find it destroyed. His passport was revoked. He took up a teaching post at the University of Nigeria. In 1971 he helped set up two literary magazines. In 1972 he published a collection of short stories, ‘Girls At War’.

In 1972 he took up a teaching post at the University of Amherst, later adding a visiting professorship at the University of Connecticut. It was at Amherst in 1975 that he gave his famous lecture accusing Joseph Conrad of being a ‘racist’.

Achebe returned to the University of Nigeria in 1976, where he held a chair in English until his retirement in 1981. He edited the literary journal Okike and became active with the left-leaning People’s Redemption Party (PRP). In 1983, he became the party’s deputy national vice-president and it was now, after 17 busy, traumatic, and globetrotting years, that he published the pamphlet under review, ‘The Trouble with Nigeria’. Its publication was timed to coincide with the upcoming elections i.e. it was a direct and controversial intervention in Nigerian politics by someone who was, by now, a veteran of political commentary.

The Trouble with Nigeria

In this brief pamphlet Achebe set out to enumerate Nigeria’s many problems and suggest solutions. His stated aim was to challenge the resignation and negativity of his fellow Nigerians ‘which cripple our aspiration and inhibit our chances of becoming a modern and attractive country’. He aimed to inspire them to reject the old habits which, in his opinion, prevented Nigeria from becoming a modern country.

The book became famous because it attributed the fundamental failure of Nigeria on its disastrously bad leadership. With the right leadership he thought the country could resolve its many problems such as: tribalism, lack of patriotism, social injustice, the cult of mediocrity indiscipline and, of course, corruption. The essay is divided into ten parts.

Rather than give a long conclusion at the end I’ll comment on the points he raises chapter by chapter.

1. Where the problem lies (3 pages)

The trouble with Nigeria is simply and squarely a failure of leadership. There is nothing basically wrong with the Nigerian character. There is nothing wrong with the Nigerian land or climate or water or air or anything else. The Nigerian problem is the unwillingness or inability of its leaders to rise to the responsibility, to the challenge of personal example, which are the hallmarks of great leadership. (p.22)

Change is possible but it requires ‘a radical programme of social and economic reorganisation’.

I believe that Nigeria is a nation favoured by Providence. I believe there are individuals as well as nations who, on account of peculiar gifts and circumstances, are commandeered by history to facilitate mankind’s advancement. Nigeria is such a nation…the fear that should haunt our leaders (but does not) is that they may already have betrayed Nigeria’s high destiny. (p.24)

I find it hard to take this overblow rhetoric seriously. There is no Providence. There is no guiding hand. ‘History’ is not a force in the world, it is just the record of what we’ve done. There is no ‘high destiny’. There is no God or law saying mankind will ‘advance’ in any particular direction – what a ridiculous idea.

Throughout his career Achebe railed against Western misconceptions about Africa and yet here he is spouting just such 19th century, positivistic rhetoric about the forward march of humanity etc etc. Population growth is out of control. We are burning the world and destroying the habitats we rely on for our survival. Russia bombs maternity hospitals. Israel bombs refugee camps. The Sudanese massacre each other. Famine is coming in Ethiopia. What advancement of mankind?

Right here, right at the start of the pamphlet, Achebe reveals that he is more attached to high-sounding rhetoric than any kind of detailed analysis of the geography, agriculture, resources or economy of Nigeria, and this tone of lofty generalisation characterises most of the essay.

He is closer to reality when he says Nigeria benefited from an oil boom which should have been invested to modernise the country but instead Nigeria’s leaders have stolen or embezzled huge sums, and squandered the rest on importing expensive fancy foreign goods.

2. Tribalism (4 pages)

Achebe dates the triumph of tribalism in politics, and the death of a pan-Nigerian dream, to the moment in 1951 (when the country was still nominally owned and run by Britain) when Chief Obafemi Awolowo stole the leadership of Western Nigeria from Dr Nnamdi Azikwe (aka Zik). This is interesting to readers of his novels because it seems to be the basis for the similar cabinet coup described at the start of A Man of The People.

Achebe blames the fact that the national anthem was written by a British woman for perpetuating the idea of tribe and goes on to describe how, after 1966, another national anthem was adopted.

Achebe skims through a work of academic discussion and defines tribalism as ‘discrimination against a citizen because of his place of birth’, gives examples of how this discrimination operates at the time of the essay. He points to the American example where, in the specific example of filling out forms to apply to university, specifying a person’s state of origin is forbidden precisely to eliminate discrimination. Nigeria should do the same.

And that’s it on the issue of tribalism, one of the most complex and difficult problems facing almost every African country. Not exactly a thorough analysis, maybe – and it’s so typical of a writer to think that the key to such a super-complex social and political issue can be found in a couple of poems, and an official form. It feels like he lacks the academic training or background in the subject to engage with it properly.

3. False image of ourselves (2 and a half pages)

One of the commonest manifestations of under-development is a tendency among the ruling elite to live in a world of make-believe and unrealistic expectations. (p.29)

In Achebe’s view, Nigeran leaders spout high-sounding rhetoric to inspire their auditors and make themselves sound big by, for example, going on and on about Nigeria being a great country. Whereas Achebe, being an ordinary (albeit literary and articulate) citizen, is able to tell the truth.

Nigeria is not a great country, it is one of the most disorderly nations in the world. It is one of the most corrupt, insensitive, inefficient places under the sun…It is dirty, callous, noisy, ostentatious, dishonest and vulgar. In short, it is among the most unpleasant places on earth. (p.30)

Achebe is straight-talking like this throughout the essay and it’s fun. Even if he then ruins the effect with the empty, hackneyed phrases of his ‘solution’:

Nigeria is not absolutely beyond redemption. Critical, yes, but not hopeless. But every single day of continued neglect brings her ever closer to the brink of the abyss. To pull her back and turn her around is clearly beyond the contrivance of mediocre leadership. It calls for greatness. (p.31)

Greatness? Unfortunately much of his argumentation consists of a rhetorical exaggeration of Nigeria’s plight, so that he can then propose surprisingly windy and rhetorical solution.

Achebe’s negativism about Nigeria is a kind of mirror image of its leaders overblown boosterism: both are just fine-sounding words, both fail to engage with the horribly complex realities on the ground.

4. Leadership, Nigeria-style (1 page)

Achebe accuses the founding fathers of Nigeria of lacking intellectual rigour, of a tendency to ‘pious materialistic woolliness and self-centred pedestrianism’. As you’ve read, I detect exactly that kind of ‘woolliness and lack of intellectual rigour in Achebe’s own discourse. He is himself part of the problem he claims to be finding a solution for.

On Unity and Faith (one and a half pages)

Leaders call loudly for unity. The word is on the Nigerian coat of arms. But Achebe says unity is only valuable if it’s for a good purpose. The mafia is united. Also on the Nigerian coat of arms is the word Faith. So he also asks, faith in what? Answering these questions:

calls for a habit of mental rigour, for which, unfortunately, Nigerians are not famous. (p.33)

(You can’t help thinking this is the kind of sweeping statement about an entire people that Achebe can make, but any white author would be cancelled for.)

Anyway, the really interesting question is why the founding fathers chose Unity and Faith at all, given that they are such vague and ill-defined terms, rather than, say Justice and Honesty and Truth, which are for more clear and definable. Is it because the founding fathers didn’t think Nigerians could live up to those harder ideals?

5. Patriotism (3 and a half pages)

Nigerians are among the world’s most unpatriotic people. (p.34)

This is because patriotism requires trust or belief in a country’s leaders and Nigerians don’t have that. A patriot, he says, is someone who truly loves their country, who holds it to the highest standards and demands the best. Is that right?

Quite clearly patriotism is not going to be easy in a country as badly run as Nigeria. (p.35)

What Nigeria abounds in is the spurious patriotism of its ruling class. True patriotism can only exist when a country is ruled well by leaders who have the welfare of the majority at heart and not the material gain of the few. In other words, a country’s leaders have to give its population something to be patriotic about.

6. Social injustice and the cult of mediocrity (8 pages)

The worst impact of tribalism is injustice in awarding jobs to mediocre or incompetent candidates who come from ‘the right tribe’. It multiplies incompetence in the system and demoralisation among the victims. Thus Nigeria is a country where it’s difficult to point to even one job which is done by the best available candidate. Consistently picking a third or fourth eleven means Nigeria will never make it into the world league. This explains why the public services are so dire:

Look at our collapsing public utilities, our inefficient and wasteful parastatals and state-owned companies. If you want electricity, you buy your own generator; if you want water, you sink your own bore-hole; if you want to travel, you set up your own airline. (p.39)

But it’s not just the inefficiency and waste which promoting mediocrities to run everything badly leads to. The bigger issue is the enormous disparity between the class of people who manage things, in effect a managerial elite, who award each other huge pay packets and perks, and the vast majority of the population who remain dirt poor.

Even if the perks and luxuries and payoffs are a legacy of the colonial system, Nigerians have had two decades to reform them instead of which they’ve made the problem ten times worse.

What is the purpose of government? Surely there are two:

  1. to maintain peace and security
  2. to establish social justice, a sense of fairness and equality

Peace and stability depends on a sense of fairness. If people’s sense of unfairness and injustice is pushed to breaking point, you get revolution. All the talk about ministers and perks and chief executives ignores the fact of the tens of millions scraping a living from infertile soil, living under flyovers, scavenging on waste dumps, ‘the wretched of the earth’.

He is fully aware that most of the conversations of intellectuals or the political or business elite are incredibly aloof and disconnected from the great mass of the population.

7. Indiscipline (12 pages)

He defines indiscipline as:

a failure or refusal to submit one’s desires and actions to the restraints of orderly social conduct in recognition of the rights and desires of others. (p.45)

As a parent I know another way of saying this is acting like a grown-up and not a spoilt child. He himself says lack of self discipline is a sign of immaturity. He says lack of self discipline blights the majority of Nigerians and helps make the place a madhouse.

You can see it most clearly in the behaviour of the traffic on the roads, which Achebe has a real bee in his bonnet about. He comes back again and again to Nigerians’ terrible behaviour on the road and uses it as an example of the way Nigerians have given themselves entirely over to ‘rampaging selfishness’ (p.49).

Leaders are, among other things, role models. If a country’s leaders are selfish and greedy, lacking all restraint and self discipline, then it creates a climate of indiscipline in which millions of their countrymen think it’s OK to be like them.

Not only that but the leaders’ indiscipline also exacerbates the divide between the Big Man who has flunkeys and police and journalists falling over themselves to please him, and everybody else who has to get used to being browbeaten, insulted and extorted by every petty official (like the corrupt tax inspectors and police who victimise Odilo’s father in A Man of the People).

I don’t know any other country where you can find such brazen insensitivity and arrogant selfishness among those who lay claim to leadership and education. (p.53)

The siren mentality: he gives this name to the tendency of Nigerian officials of every rank to be accompanied everywhere by fleets of security and police cars all with sirens blaring to terrify everyone out of the way. Achebe says it is typical of Nigeria to have turned an invention of serious-minded people into:

a childish and cacophonous instrument for the celebration of status. (p.54)

‘Childish’ was the word I used to characterise the worldview and events of A Man of The People, feeling a bit nervous about accusing such an eminent author of dealing in such superficial characters and discussions – so I’m pleased to have the concept explicitly backed up by Achebe himself.

I also commented on the short temper, quickness to anger and general air of physical violence which soaks A Man of The People. Here, in the section about the siren mentality, Achebe associates the use of bombastic sirens broadcast by convoys of VIP’s cars with a kind of psychological violence, with:

  • the brutal aggressiveness which precedes a leader’s train
  • the violence of power
  • official thuggery

He calls Nigeria a ‘mentally underdeveloped’ country which ‘indulges in the celebration and brandishing of power’. Its leaders have created a mystique around themselves when a) they’re such fools they’re hardly worthy of it and b) this only creates a yawning divide between the elite class and everyone else, cowering and quivering by the side of the road as yet another cavalcade of VIPs roars past, lights flashing and sirens blaring. Undisciplined. Self centred. Childish.

8. Corruption (8 pages)

Keeping an average Nigerian from being corrupt is like keeping a goat from eating yam (1983 newspaper headline)

Nigerians are no different from other nations.

Nigerians are corrupt because the system under which they live today makes corruption easy and profitable; they will cease to be corrupt when corruption is made difficult and inconvenient. (p.58)

Achebe makes an important point which is that the exercise of corruption is intimately associated with the wielding of power; people in power have far more opportunity for corruption than the masses.

He has heard the figure that 60% of Nigeria’s wealth is consumed by corruption (p.61). He gives a couple of egregious examples of corruption scams from today’s newspapers. He explains the different types of corruption associated with big expensive building projects and refers to ‘political patronage on an unprecedented scale’ (p.63). With the result that:

Nigeria is without any shadow of doubt one of the most corrupt nations in the world… (p.63)

The only cure is for leaders to set an example, to put principle ahead of greed. A good leader would rid his administration of anyone suspected of corruption or bribery and ban them from public life.

(Just reading this passage you can see why it will never happen. In Nigeria as in most African countries corruption isn’t a blight on the system, it is the system.)

9. The Igbo problem (7 pages)

The title of this section is satirical, presumably a bitter reference to ‘the Jewish problem’, as Achebe is himself Igbo.

He explains something I didn’t know which is that the Igbo, within Nigeria, are often caricatured as aggressive, arrogant, clannish and greedy, which sounds like the worst stereotyping of the Jews.

Achebe himself calls Igbo culture ‘individualistic and highly competitive’. It is not held back by the wary religion of the other main tribal groups in Nigeria, the Hausa and Faluni, or the traditional hierarchies of the Yoruba. Igbo culture can display ‘noisy exhibitionism’ (p.67). Here’s Martin Meredith in his 2011 book The State of Africa explaining the same thing.

In the Eastern region, on the other side of the Niger river, the Igbo, occupying the poorest, most densely populated region of Nigeria, had become the best educated population, swarming out of their homeland to find work elsewhere as clerks, artisans, traders and labourers, forming sizeable minority groups in towns across the country. Their growing presence there created ethnic tensions both in the North and among the Yoruba in the West. Unlike the Hausa-Fulani and the Yoruba, the Igbo possessed no political kingdom and central authority but functioned on the basis of autonomous village societies, accustomed to a high degree of individual assertion and achievement. (p.76)

It was the tide of anti-Igbo violence which swept across northern Nigeria in reaction to the 1966 military coup, which led Igbo leaders to conceive the idea of seceding and setting up the separatist state of Biafra in 1967.

Achebe discusses the importance of the Town Union phenomenon. This seems to be the idea that the Igbo had networks of influence via their Town Union associations, which extended into clannish networks criss-crossing the nation. For political reasons leaders of other groups played on this fact to suggest Elders of Zion-style Igbo conspiracies to take other groups’ jobs, houses etc.

The reality, Achebe asserts, was exactly the opposite, the Igbo lacked strong centralised leadership. Instead, ruffians and upstarts were appointed by the British colonial authorities (as described in Achebe’s book Arrow of God) and then, since independence, hundreds and hundreds of ludicrously local ‘kings’ have sprung up like mushrooms (p.68).

Achebe mentions official policies of social, economic and political discrimination which the Igbo still labour under and pleads for them to be removed so the Igbo can play their full role in Nigerian society. In exchange the Igbo must learn to be less abrasive and more tactful.

He closes with some detailed examples of what he takes to be federal discrimination against the Igbo, namely the siting of huge new steel mills in every region except Igboland.

10. The example of Aminu Kano (15 and a half pages)

The last and longest section is devoted to Mallam Amino Kanu who had, apparently, just died. Who he?

Mallam Aminu Kano (9 August 1920 to 17 April 1983) was a Muslim politician from Nigeria. In the 1940s he led a socialist movement in the northern part of the country in opposition to British rule. (Wikipedia)

Achebe repeats Kano’s great question: what is the purpose of political power? It is certainly not to turn the population of their country into victims.

For we are victims. The entire Nigerian populace constitutes on huge, helpless electoral dupe in the hands of the politician/victimiser. (p.73)

And it’s the people’s fault. For some reason the electorate votes time and again for crooks. Politicians exploit ethnic differences not just to win the backing of ethnic groups but because it divides the electorate and makes them less able to hold politicians to account.

He calls on educated Nigerians to rouse themselves from their cynicism and ‘bestir themselves to the patriotic action of proselytising for decent and civilised political values’ (p.74). Here is where Achebe makes it clearest that he is primarily addressing Nigeria’s intelligentsia or educated class, rather than the people at large. As a matter of interest, I wonder what percentage of the total population this amounts to? 1%? It’s the narcissism of all academics, graduates, people in the media, the commentariat and so on to believe that they represent ‘the nation’.

Achebe hoped that, when democracy was restored in 1979, Nigeria would have learned from the ruinous civil war and a decade of military rule but no, the country just started making the same old mistakes all over again.

We have turned out to be like a bunch of stage clowns who bump their heads into the same heavy obstacles again and again because they are too stupid to remember what hit them only a short while ago. (p.76)

In my opinion this is a profoundly wrong way of thinking about politics. It is a commentator’s mindset, expecting that because series of events A took place which you, personally, disapproved of and learned from, that therefore everyone will have ‘learned’ from it and avoid repeating it. No.

But politics and political commentary are just the narcissistic froth bobbing on the deep slow-moving forces of geography, climate, agriculture, technology, social changes, the economy and the social realities stemming from them – such as widespread poverty, illiteracy, lack of housing, amenities, education, lack of experience working in factories (sounds trivial but cited by Paul Collier as a prime cause of poverty in the poorest countries) or of creating a civil life without universal corruption: the granular structures which actually make up a country, these are almost impossible to change.

Achebe professes himself disappointed because he thought that during the decades since Independence ‘an enlightened electorate’ would have come into being – by which he, like thousands of liberal commentators in countries round the world, meant an electorate who thinks like him.

But electorates around the world consistently don’t think like the tiny percentage of the population which enjoyed a liberal college education thinks they ought to think. Trump. Brexit. Erdoğan. Bolsonaro. Milei. The continuing success of authoritarian populists don’t prove that electorates are ‘wrong’ – all they do is highlight the gulf between liberal commentators and the populations and countries they claim to know about or speak for.

The chapter is the longest in the book because Achebe goes into some detail about political developments between the end of military rule / the advent of the second republic in 1979, and the time of writing i.e. 1983. This section assumes familiarity with leading figures in Nigerian politics and their careers to date which I didn’t have, so I struggled to follow it.

What it does convey to the outsider is the central importance of ethnicity or at least regional allegiance in Nigeria’s politics. He discusses figures like Dr Nnamdi Azikiwe and Chief Obafemi Awolowo entirely in terms of the ethnic groups they represented and promoted. There isn’t anywhere in this final section anything about these politicians’ economic or social policies. They don’t appear to have had any except to bring home the loot to their region, for ‘their’ people. Here’s a typical passage:

Professor Eyo Atik was an Efik, and the brutally unfair treatment offered him in Enugu did not go unremarked in Calabar. It contributed in no small measure to the suspicion of the majority Igbo by their minority neighbours in Eastern Nigeria – a suspicion which far less attractive politicians than Eyo Ita fanned to red-hot virulence, and from which the Igbo have continued to reap enmity to this day. (p.82)

See what I mean by not a hint of any actual policies, and how political figures are interpreted 100% in the context of their tribal allegiances? 1) Invoking tribalism i.e. getting your tribe to support you and vilifying opponents in terms of their tribal enmity, and 2) offering to bring home the bacon to your people i.e. divert profitable state funding, new roads, water, electricity, factories etc to your region – these remain the two easiest ways to drum up support among a largely illiterate electorate. They are the tried and tested routes to power and success, to personal wealth and prestige, so why on earth would any practical politician ignore them? University professors of literature like Chinua Achebe can write all the pamphlets they like but will ever change that.

Instead, people like Achebe are doomed to perpetual disappointment that ‘the people’ just don’t seem to be educated enough to share their enlightened point of view. But they never will be. This is the sentence of perpetual frustration which every intellectual in a mass democracy is condemned to. In old-fashioned Marxist terms, the bourgeois intellectual, depressed by his complete alienation from the masses, is stuck on the outside of the historical process, tutting and disapproving, and completely ineffectual because unattached to anything like a mass party which could actually change anything.

Contemporary Nigeria

Here’s the view of Africa scholar John Philips writing in Africa Studies Review in 2005:

Nigeria remains one of the most important and fascinating countries in Africa, with abundant human and material resources. If these could be harnessed effectively, Nigeria could easily become one of the most influential countries in the world. The country has played a leadership role in everything from the liberation of southern Africa to the formation of the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) and the African Union, and the attempted stabilization of Liberia and other states in the region.

The decline of Nigeria, although not as severe as the decline and even collapse of other states in Africa, has saddened all who love her and disheartened all who had hoped for great things from independent Africa. Today Nigeria is better known for the ‘scam spam’ that clutters up internet mailboxes around the world than for its great authors, musicians, and other creative people.

Massive investments in industry have failed to industrialise the country; the hope of post-Biafra, oil-boom Nigeria has given way to cynicism, corruption, and despair. The great religiosity of Nigerians has become less a call to righteousness than a reason to murder followers of other religions. Who can ponder Confucius’s famous statement that ‘the material prosperity of a country does not consist in material prosperity, but in righteousness’ without thinking of Nigeria? Understanding the decline, if not quite yet fall, of Nigeria is one of the most important tasks facing Africanist scholars today.

Here are responses from readers on Amazon (I know it’s not scholarly opinion, but they often come from people with a special interest in the subject i.e. actual Nigerians):

Although the book is relatively old (published 1983) it continues to be distressingly relevant to the actual Nigeria. Military dictators have disappeared (again) and been replaced by democratically-elected presidents (again), but this has had little effect on the basic problems identified by this book. The author says things that only a Nigerian could get away with – and says them well, as you would expect of Achebe.

it was written in 1983 but all the issues & failures he highlights are just as relevant in 2008.

Nigerians know all about the trouble but still cannot figure out a solution and Achebe tried to sketch a route past the troubles. But alas, it is no casual ‘trouble’, it is a deeply-seated neurosis. The sad reality is that even over 3 decades later not much has changed in Nigeria – if anything it has changed for the worse in some ways – despite the passing of leadership from the illegitimate military rulers to elected civilians. Nigeria’s ruling class treat the country as an all-you-can-eat buffet while unconnected citizens are viewed as destitute serfs outside the gates. (Chris Emeka, 2014)

Material facts

As anyone familiar with my blog knows I enjoy intellectual activity and products, art and literature, very much indeed, but my belief system is based on an atheistic materialist view of the world, on the bedrock of material facts, on the biological realities of the body, on the theory of evolution, on the unpleasant realities of humans’ complete reliance on a viable environment.

People’s opinions are as changeable as their moods, even the best commentator’s interpretation is based on partial understanding, whereas the material facts can be measured and recorded. I’m not necessarily saying they’re the most important aspects of life, but objective, material facts are generally the decisive ones.

For example, you can have the most poetic thoughts in the world but if someone cuts off your head with a machete that’s the end of them. You can write reams about your splendid homeland and its historic destiny, but it’s not your fancy words, it’s the availability of food, water and energy which will determine its future. Thus:

Although it was published in 1983, all the commentators point out that the issues Achebe addressed in 1983 still challenge Nigeria in 2023. The most tangible difference is that in 1983 Nigeria’s population was 80 million and now it’s nearly three times that, at 223 million. By 2050 the population is predicted to reach 400 million. If the trend isn’t stopped, it will exceed 728 million by 2100.

Given that much agricultural and coastal land is set to be lost to climate change and environmental degradation over the same period, it’s hard not to conclude that Nigeria’s future will be catastrophic.

John Oyefara, a professor of demography at the University of Lagos, is quoted as saying that unless this unprecedented population explosion is properly managed ‘there will be more crises, insurgency, poverty and insecurity.’ It’s difficult to detect the hand of Providence, history, high destiny or ‘mankind’s advancement’, of any of the windy highfalutin’ terms Achebe opened his essay with, in any of this.

Solutions

Achebe’s pamphlet is great fun, exuberantly written, eminently quotable and quite useless. Practical solutions can only be found in the complex economic and social analyses provided by the likes of:


Credit

The Trouble With Nigeria by Chinua Achebe was published in 1983 by The Fourth Dimension Publishing Company. References are to the 2010 Penguin Books paperback volume ‘An Image of Africa.’

Related links

  • The Trouble with Nigeria online [I can’t find an online version which is not only irritating but reprehensible. It’s a text of great public interest, surely it should be freely available]
  • 2006 interview with Achebe
  • Guardian Nigeria page

Chinua Achebe reviews

Africa reviews

The Looting Machine by Tom Burgis (2015)

The looting machine: the alliance between shadow governments and the resource industry that tramples over the people who live where oil and minerals are found.
(The Looting Machine, page 158)

Burgis is a reporter for the Financial Times. In his acknowledgements, he thanks numerous other writers and editors from the FT and, indeed, The Looting Machine, despite its lurid title, has the feel of an extended Financial Times special report, one about corruption all across Africa. There are attempts at ‘colour’ i.e. descriptions of places (luxury hotels in Luanda, open cast mining in Congo) but for the most part it’s facts and figures, names and details of contracts and, volumes of oil or iron and, everywhere, amounts of money money money. Which makes sense as it’s a book-length investigation of how so many African ‘leaders’ have stolen money, scores of billions of dollars, belonging to their countries and peoples.

Many of the ideas – about the nature of Africa’s resource-based, rentier states – are familiar but what distinguishes Burgis’s book is the detailed research he has done to unearth and record the names of (some of the) companies and individuals who are responsible for looting Africa’s wealth. Other books talk about the leader of an African nation ‘and his circle’ or ‘the elite’ in general terms, whereas Burgis names names, identifying the right-hand men of dictators in Congo, Nigeria, Angola, and delves into the shady companies and crooked deals they do. By ‘crooked’ I mean deals whereby corrupt governments sell their mineral resources in such a way as to cream off huge amounts for themselves, at the expense of official government coffers, let alone the needs of their populations, while also conniving in the anti-transparency, profiteering practices of the multinational corporations they’re in bed with.

21st century Africa

What really comes over is that my thinking about Africa is out of date. It’s all very well rehashing the standard old complaints about imperialism and the scramble for Africa and the wicked colonial regimes and the arbitrary borders they imposed which split up tribes and forced completely dissimilar peoples together. Or telling off ‘the West’ and ‘western governments’ for not holding African governments to account or not supporting democracy enough or giving enough aid to help women and girls etc etc, in the style of Michela Wrong or Tim Butcher: the West must do this, that and the other, do more to blah blah…

What comes over is that all those old issues, true as they are, have been superseded by the new world, the 21st century. In the new Africa:

  1. A lot of this is a lost cause; the power structures of crony capitalism, patronage politics and kleptocracy have been in place for over 60 years. It’s going to take more than a UN resolution or ‘the West’ stamping its feet to change the culture of places like Nigeria or Angola at this late stage. They are what they are. So-called elections just replace one faction of the elite with a different faction. The kleptocracy is firmly in place.
  2. China and Russia. The complaints of writers like Butcher and Wrong and hundreds like them, that the West needs to be doing ‘more’, tend to ignore the reality on the ground that Russia, via the notorious Wagner group, have an ever-increasing military presence, especially in the Sahel region of Africa; and much the bigger reality that China is emerging as a decisive economic player all across the continent.

Concepts and categories

Over the past 60 years social scientists, political theorists and economists have gone over the reasons for Africa’s failure again and again. The same basic ideas recur and reappear under different headings or from different perspectives. They build up like a collage of overlapping ideas or terms. Here are some key ones which overlap and mesh together to form the conceptual foundations of Burgis’s critique:

Resource state

A state most of whose revenue comes from one or a handful of raw resources which it sells abroad, generally via multinational corporations. The completely undemocratic closed nature of these kinds of deals makes them a perfect site for kickbacks, bribes, finders’ fees, various ‘taxes’ and numerous other ways for the small elite controlling the state to cream off huge amounts into their personal bank accounts.

Resource economy

An economy heavily slanted towards the production of raw resources (oil, gas, copper, gold) which fails to diversity or invest in other sectors, for example agriculture or manufacturing. Burgis’s chapter about Nigeria is, a little surprisingly, less about the obvious corruption and wealth generated by Nigeria’s huge oil industry/resources, than a sad review of the collapse of its once-thriving textiles industry.

By half way through the book Burgis lets his anger and disgust shine through. He doesn’t refer to the president of Nigeria as the president of Nigeria but as ‘captain of Nigeria’s looting machine’ (p.201).

Shadow economy

A shadow economy includes all economic activities which are hidden from official state or international authorities for monetary, regulatory and institutional reasons. Monetary reasons include avoiding paying taxes. Institutional reasons include hiding from the general population, opposition politicians, the media, regulators, and donor governments, the extent to which you’re running a huge illegal economy.

Shadow state

A state in which the over, official forms of government are not where the real power lies. In a shadow state real power inheres in small personal networks among the elite. Shadow states are characterised by the corrupt distribution of state contracts among this elite, who may also have alliances with powerbrokers in the army or security services.

The personal state

State in which there is no distinction between the president or ruler, and state structures, especially when it comes to budget and bank accounts (p.27). Thus Mobutu of Zaire had revenue from all kinds of ‘state’ contracts, deals, taxes and so on, paid directly into his personal bank accounts and spent it as if it was his money, and so did his cronies. Money which should have been running the state, for example paying the police or maintaining the infrastructure, was instead spent building his palace in the jungle, buying swanky cars and top-end real estate in Paris and the South of France.

Kleptocracy

Where the ruler, his family and cronies, simply steal state money, usually on an epic scale.

In 2002 UN investigators appointed to study the illegal exploitation of Congo’s resources [identified] an ‘elite network’ of Congolese and Zimbabwean officials who were orchestrating the plunder of Congolese minerals under cover of war. ‘This network has transferred ownership of at least $5 billion of assets from the state mining sector to private companies under its control in the last three years with no compensation or benefit for the state or treasury of the Democratic Republic of Congo.’ (p.37)

Result: the disappearing roads, the vanished railway network, hospitals without medicines, abandoned schools and general collapse of Congo, as reported by Tim Butcher in Blood River. Burgis gives the details of a particular series of deals between the Congo state and private companies which, he claims, lost the state $1.36 billion in the 2 years between 2010 and 2012, more money than it received from humanitarian aid over the same period (p.52).

As Burgis gets more angry, he becomes more entertainingly abusive. These countries are not run by a ruling class but by a ‘looting class’ (p.203). Thus Nigerian analyst Clement Nwankwo describes the country’s largest political party, the People’s Democratic Party (PDP) as ‘not a political party. It’s a platform to seize power and then share the resultant booty’ (p.203).

Cryptocracy

A form of government where the real leaders are hidden, or simply unknown. Overlaps with the universe of conspiracy theories where people believe there are hidden global or national conspiracies. In our context all it means is that sometimes the real movers and shakers, powerbrokers and big money men, work behind the scenes, anonymously.

Petrostate

A petrostate or oil state is a country whose economy is heavily dependent on the extraction and export of oil or natural gas. Merely producing oil and gas does not make a country a petrostate; Norway, Canada, and America are major oil producers but also have diversified economies. Petrostates do not have diversified economies, they rely on oil & gas exports for a large part of state revenue, which results in political and economic power becoming concentrated in the hands of an elite, and the spread of unaccountable corruption.

Take Angola where the elite are referred to as the Futungo, a few hundred closely connected families, named after Futungo da Belas, the old presidential palace (p.10). Oil accounts for 98% of Angola’s exports and about 75% of government income, and yet it provides just 1% of employment (p.13).

Or Nigeria where oil was discovered in the Niger delta in 1956 and the enormous wealth it generates for a small elite has ruined the country for 60 years. Oil accounts for 80% of Nigerian government revenue (p.63).

As a political economy took hold that was based on embezzlement and manipulating public office for private gain, government contracts for the upkeep of public goods that support industrialisation – a functioning electricity system among them – were diverted to the cronies of the rulers of the day. The patter was the same [in Nigeria] as in Angola or Congo: the more the non-oil economy withered, the greater the impulse to embezzle, perpetuating the cycle of looting. (p.76)

A petrostate is run by petropolitics which simply equate high office with theft (p.77).

A country where the ruler entrenches power in himself and his clique, using authoritarian security forces against any form of protest, is called a petro-dictatorship. The extreme brutality of the Equatorial Guinea regime is a good example. At one point Burgis coins the phrase petro-nightmare to describe Nigeria’s descent into corruptions and coups.

(Venezuela is another example of a petrostate, along with Ecuador, Indonesia, Iran, Kazakhstan, Mexico, Oman, Qatar, Russia, Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates – but I can only cope with one continent at a time.)

Rentier state

A term coined by political scientists Hazem Beblawi and Giacomo Luciani, denoting countries which have undue reliance on one or several sources of rents such as mineral resources, notably oil and gas.

Rentier states derive most of their income from the extraction, processing and shipping of these resources. Government in a rentier state relies overwhelmingly on income from these industries and not on other sources of income such as general taxation. Therefore rentier states aren’t beholden to their populations but are characterised by autocratic paternalism. The media is commonly highly censored meaning that government and corporate corruption and institutional inefficiencies are easily concealed. From an economist’s point of view, this secrecy encourages inefficiencies and lack of competition, which tend to undermine the welfare, creativity, freedoms, and human development of their peoples. Reliance on one or a handful of commodities for national income means rentier states are vulnerable if commodity prices fall, if global demands falls, or when their resources are depleted.

Dutch disease

In the 1970s Holland discovered oil offshore and began drilling, extracting and refining it with great profits. Everyone was puzzled, then, when the Dutch economy as a whole fell into recession. Analysis showed that when a country comes to rely heavily on one or a handful of raw resources, it has a distorting and damaging effect on the rest of the economy, especially manufacturing and agriculture. Strong oil & gas exports drive up the value of the currency, making imports cheaper and exports more expensive (pages 69 to 70).

Thus Nigeria’s textile industry has been devastated because, when the currency rose on the back of the oil boom, it became cheaper to import cheap Chinese knock-offs of Nigerian fabrics than to make them themselves. In the mid-1980s it had 175 textile mills, now it has 25.

It is safe to say that the destruction of the Nigerian textile industry has blighted millions of lives. (p.65).

Over-investment in these industries at the expense of other sectors, such as manufacturing and agriculture, can hurt economic growth and competitiveness. Unless you make a conscious effort to support and encourage other aspects of the economy, a raw resource boom will tend to damage it. According to a 2003 World Bank report:

Between 1960 and 2000 poor countries that were rich in natural resources grew two to three times more slowly than those that were not. Over that period , of forty-five countries that failed to sustain economic growth, all but six were heavily dependent on oil or mining. (p.157)

Another bad effect is that undiversified reliance on oil and gas industries can cause political and economic crises when the price of oil drops. The entire system comes to a halt.

Resource curse

Research from the 70s, 80s and 90s all confirm the theory that countries with an abundance of natural resources (such as fossil fuels and certain minerals) tend to have less economic growth, less democracy, and worse development outcomes, than countries with fewer natural resources.

Research shows that oil wealth lowers levels of democracy and strengthens autocratic rule because political leaders in oil-rich countries refuse democratic development because they will have more to give up from losing power. Similarly, political leaders of oil-rich countries refuse democratic development because the political elite collects the revenues from the oil export and use the money for cementing its political, economic, and social power by controlling government and its bureaucracy.

No taxation, no democracy

In Western democracies governments regularly have to consult electors because we’re the ones who fund them. In a resource state or petrostate, most of the government’s income comes from licensing deals and rake-offs from refiners. The regime doesn’t get its money from the people so doesn’t care what happens to them or what they think. The rallying cry of the American revolutionaries in 1776 was ‘No taxation without representation’, well the population of a resource state doesn’t pay much tax and it gets no representation. Not relying on the people for its revenue, the government doesn’t care what they think (p.73).

Elections are the last thing the elite wants because it will disrupt the deals and contracts done with Western extractors and multinationals. The Nigerian government gets just 4% of its income from general taxation but about 70% from oil and gas revenues (p.73).

In a resource economy politics degrades down to different factions of the elite fighting for the loot, behaviour which encourages everyone at all levels of society to think and behave the same. High office becomes universally accepted as the opportunity not to serve but to steal (p.74).

Patronage politics

Patronage politics is the use of state resources to reward individuals for their electoral support. It is a type of corruption or favouritism in which a party in power rewards groups, families or ethnicities for their electoral support using illegal gifts or fraudulently awarded appointments or government contracts. There is a further consequence: patronage politics attracts crooks.

Crony capitalism

an economic system in which individuals and businesses with political connections and influence are favoured (as through tax breaks, grants, and other forms of government assistance) in ways seen as suppressing open competition in a free market. an economic system in which family members and friends of government officials and business leaders are given unfair advantages in the form of jobs, loans, etc.

A good example is the Futungo cabal of linked cronies who run Angola under the presidency of José Eduardo dos Santos, president from 1979 to 2017, whose daughter, Isabel dos Santos (born 1973), was Africa’s first woman billionaire and at one time the richest woman in Africa (p.10). The triumph of feminism? Not really. It’s deeply funny that this epitome of crony capitalism and kleptocracy was one of the BBC’s 100 women of 2015, so desperate are organisations like the BBC to fall over themselves to promote women, and especially black women (score double) even if it turns out that they’re world class crooks.

Or take Equatorial Guinea, continuing to enjoy relentless exploitation at the hands of its ruling family, relatives and cronies, led by President Teodoro Obiang Nguema, the longest serving leader in the world, in power ever since 1979 when he overthrew his evil uncle, Francisco Macías Nguema. In Equatorial Guinea, oil accounts for 75% of GDP, 98% of exports and 90% of government revenue. It is a classic petrostate. Burgis enjoys telling us that the dictator’s son, Teodorin Obiang, officially receives only a modest salary for the various ministerial posts he’s held, so it must be from some other source that he has been able to buy a $30 million mansion in Malibu, properties in Cape Town and the Avenue Foch in Paris (the avenue of kleptocrats), a fleet of Ferraris and Rolls Royces, a Gulf jetstream, paintings by Renoir and Matisse, and one of Michael Jackson’s jewel-encrusted gloves – while the majority of the population live in poverty or extreme poverty, with a life expectancy of 51 (p.212).

Terrible leadership

Chinua Achebe  fingered the terrible quality of African leadership as the continent’s key problem, as long ago as 1983, 40 years ago:

The trouble with Nigeria is simply and squarely a failure of leadership. There is nothing basically wrong with the Nigerian character. There is nothing wrong with the Nigerian land or water or air or anything else. The Nigerian problem is the unwillingness or inability of its leaders to rise to the responsibility, to the challenge of personal example which are the hallmarks of true leadership.’ (p.207)

Contractocracy

Government of contractors, by contractors, for contractors.

Law of the roadblock

Burgis appears to have invented this after being stopped and shaken down at countless roadblocks in numerous African countries. When the economy fails, and in particular when the police don’t get paid, they (or armed citizens) set up roadblocks and fleece drivers. Roadblocks demanding baksheesh are a telltale sign of a political system which has abandoned the wellbeing of the broader population (p.59).

China

The last 20 years have witnessed China’s ever-increasing involvement in Africa because African countries have a high concentration of vital raw resources, and China’s economy has grown at an extraordinary rate. Between the early 1990s and 2010 China’s share of world consumption of refined metals went from 5% to 45% and its oil consumption increased fivefold. In 2012 China’s economy was eight times bigger than it had been in 2002 (p.81).

In 2002 China’s trade with Africa was worth $13 billion a year; in 2012 it was worth $180 billion. Two-thirds of China’s imports from Africa were oil, the rest was other raw materials. As Burgis puts it: ‘The fates of the world’s most populous nation and the planet’s poorest continent have become wedded’ (p.86).

China spends two-thirds of its global outlay on foreign corporate acquisitions in the resources sector. Between 2009 and 2012 Chinese state-owned groups spent $23 billion buying Western companies with African resource assets that stretched from Sierra Leone to South Africa (p.143).

Many of China’s earliest deals were done with the petrostate Angola, where it developed the so-called ‘Angola model’. This is where China makes the country a big loan, generally billions of dollars, at low interest rates ostensibly for the country to develop its infrastructure (water, rods, dams, electricity, roads). These projects are then carried out by Chinese corporations employing Chinese engineers, managers and workers. And the country pays back the ‘loan’ in the form of raw materials, oil etc. Obviously, at every step of the process there is scope for the African country’s elite to cream off tens, sometimes hundreds of millions of dollars for themselves. If Western countries, the UN, NGOs etc cry foul, then China and Angola (still nominally run by a Marxist-Leninist party) can dismiss their criticisms with the ad hominem catchcries of imperialism, and colonialism, and racism, and white supremacy etc while the elites of both countries get rich and the people of Angola starve in the streets. (As of 2022, about half of the population of Angola lives in ‘extreme poverty’, while the families who make up the Futungo are among the richest in the world vide Isabel dos Santos.)

Those who defend China’s involvement in Africa say China has built more infrastructure (roads, dams, airports) than the colonial powers did during the entire colonial period. Critics criticise China for doing business with dictators and opaque regimes but, you could argue, ‘the West’ a) did that for years, in fact b) put many of those dictators in place, and c) has been trying to make Africa’s nations more democratic for decades with pitiful success.

So maybe the best policy is just to crack on and build the infrastructure no matter who you deal with. Maybe building the infrastructure which will encourage African nations to develop and industrialise will also, in time, lead to the kind of empowerment and political openness which the western way has so signally failed to create.

The looting machine

As you read through the book you come to realise that Burgis’s account is very much focused on the damage mineral resources, notably gold and uranium, but above everything else, oil, have done to Africa – specifically, how scores of billions of raw materials have been extracted from Africa in a process which has somehow, almost magically, left most of its people worse off than when they gained independence in the 1960s. It’s this that he means when he refers to a looting machine. The machine consists of a number of interlocking past, including:

1. Corrupt rulers

Fairly obvious, and covered in the sections above.

2. How the World Bank and IMF screw Africa

The World Bank and the International Monetary Fund (IMF) were set up at the end of the Second World War. The World Bank’s ostensible aim is to promote long-term economic development and poverty reduction – its official name was the International Bank for Reconstruction and Development – while the IMF was set up to ensure the stability of the global economic system.

In reality both institutions have a long and shameful history of forcing neo-liberal, ultra-capitalist solutions on developing countries, policies which have often plunged them into deeper crisis than they were already in, and actively impoverished their populations.

This is because they enforce what has long been called ‘The Washington Consensus’, the belief that, in order to thrive, all economies must follow the same strict, narrow economic and fiscal model, namely: cut taxes, cut government spending, privatise state-owned industries, scrap protectionism, open your markets to international investment and you’ll be rich. These are the strict and always unpopular terms which come attached to any World Bank loan.

Except all too often they don’t work. Put it another way: if they worked as well as the Bank and IMF claim, surely Africa would be rich by now, when it’s clearly not. In practice, Burgis claims that even if you followed Washington Consensus policies to the letter, all they do is balance the books and solve temporary budget crises: they don’t provide any guidance for the long-term development of whole economies. Compare and contrast the policies of the so-called Asian Tigers (the high-growth economies of Hong Kong, Singapore, South Korea, and Taiwan) which thrived in the 1950s and 60s. In complete contradiction to World Bank advice, these countries implemented protectionism to protect their fledgling industrial sectors, and had a high degree of state involvement, funding and planning in all aspects of their economies.

Instead, the two institutions tended to force African nations that needed their help to open their economies to the vulture forces of ‘the global market’ at exactly the time as 50 or so other struggling Third World countries were doing the same thing, all wrecking their welfare states, cutting spending to the bone and offering cut-price resource extraction deals to the world’s multinational corporations, circling like vultures.

Burgis devotes several pages to describing the Extractive Industries Review (EIR), an independent enquiry which the World Bank commissioned into its funding of the extractive industries (i.e. mining) in 2001:

The review was headed by [Indonesian economist Emil] Salim. Salim held consultations with a wide range of stakeholders in 2002 and 2003. The EIR recommendations were published in January 2004 in a final report entitled ‘Striking a Better Balance’. The report concluded that fossil fuel and mining projects do not alleviate poverty and recommended that World Bank involvement with these sectors be phased out by 2008 to be replaced by investment in renewable energy and clean energy. (Wikipedia)

In Burgis’s view, the World Bank carefully considered Salim’s recommendations, spent 9 months coming up with a lengthy reply, and then ignored them all.

It was not just the World Bank that found its influence in Africa’s resource states diminished. The IMF, its sister organisation charged with maintaining the stability of the world financial system, already had a bad reputation in Africa, with reformers and kleptocrats alike, for imposing the strictures of the Washington Consensus, under which African states had become test tubes for the unfettered free-market philosophy that would also beget the subprime crisis and subsequent near-collapse of the western banking system. Emil Salim’s review of the World Bank’s record in the oil and mining industries reported that, in the cases it had studied, ‘the IMF’s approach to the extractive sectors was mainly one that promoted aggressive privatisation of significant mining and hydrocarbon assets for short-term financing of the [government’s budget] deficit. This did nothing to ensure the creation of competition, efficiency gains, development of a domestic private sector, or environmentally and socially sound development strategies for the extractive sectors.’ (p.171)

3. How multinational corporations screw Africa

Arguably this is the core of the entire book, Burgis’s detailed investigations of the various ways multinational corporations screw African countries. I found the details sometimes hard to follow, and hard to see the difference between the legal world of business contacts and paying people finders’ fees or introductory fees (legal) and the illegal world of bribes and payoffs. But it’s much more than that:

a) Opaque deals which are never published, are inaccessible to researchers or citizens, deliberately designed to be inaccessible so as to allow bribery and kickbacks to the ruling elite.

b) The whole world of offshore accounting and tax havens whose sole reason for existing is to allow crooked governments, crooked organisations, crooked multinationals and crooked individuals to hide their financial dealings and loot from the scrutiny of tax officials and enforcement agencies.

c) Crooked governments finding themselves coerced by cartels of, for example, oil extraction companies into agreeing low rents, taxes and percentages i.e. the companies demand much lower rates of tax per barrel or tonne of precious metal, than are paid on other continents (South America or Asia). They can do this because so many African countries hover on the permanent brink of bankruptcy and so are desperate for deals and cash now, even if it means they get ripped off.

d) Cost distribution. This covers a range of tax dodges, and refers to the way transnational corporations are able to move their profits around to different countries so as to minimise their tax liabilities, or to offset profits in one country against losses or costs in another. Clever accounting means huge multinational corporations make it look like they made next to no profit and so pay little or no tax. Starbucks and Amazon have made this strategy common knowledge, but it’s one of the reasons African countries were handing over billions of dollars worth of resources to multinational corporations which made huge profits for their executives and shareholders, while the host nations remained poor and undeveloped.

The empires of colonial Europe and the Cold War superpowers have given way to a new form of domination over the continent that serves as the mine of the world – new empires controlled not by nations but by alliances of unaccountable African rulers governing through shadow states, middle-men who connect them to the global resource economy, and multinational companies from the West and the East that cloak their corruption in corporate secrecy. (p.244)

Given the comprehensive screwing so many African countries have received at the hands of Western companies and institutions, you can see why China’s ask-no-questions, get-on-and-build-it approach presents an attractive alternative.

Some numbers

In 2011 the IMF determined that the discrepancy between the amount Angola ought to have made from its huge oil sales and the amount which actually went into government accounts was $32 billion (p.173).

In 2012 Shell’s revenue was $242 billion. Shell’s chief executive, Peter Voser, was paid $16.5 million (p.194).

In 2014 reforming banker Lamido Sanusi estimated that corruption at Nigeria’s national oil company, NNPC, was robbing the national treasury of $1 billion per month (p.205) – and yet western countries give Nigeria aid, despite the fact that the amounts Nigerian politicians steal from the state purse could match western aid hundreds of times over.

Islamist violence

All this corruption keeps African states backward. It prevents the development of industry and infrastructure and trade. It creates the prevention of jobs and thus ensures that the new generations of young men have few if any prospects. It promotes grotesque inequalities between the rich elite, and the rich in towns and cities, and the poor everywhere but especially in the country. So lots of unemployed men with no future and a burning sense of grievance.

What I’ve learned to call the bayaye. (The word and concept bayaye are explored in ‘The Shadow of The Sun: My African Life’ by Ryszard Kapuściński and ‘The World’s Most Dangerous Place: Inside the Outlaw State of Somalia’ by James Fergusson).

Fifty years ago they were ripe to join Marxist revolutionary organisations which fought brutal insurgencies to overthrow dictators, western capitalism and install utopian communist societies. Now they join violent Islamist insurgencies which promise to overthrow dictators, western values and install utopian Islamic societies run by Sharia law. Al-Shabab. Boko Haram. Al Qaeda in the Maghreb. Islamic State. According to Sanusi:

‘There’s a clear, direct link between the uneven distribution of resources and the rise in violence.’ (p.206)

‘The region’s idle young men…were ready recruits.’ The young men problem, again, as described in Somalia.

Thought

These kinds of problems are so widespread – Transparency International report that “155 countries have made no significant progress against corruption or have declined since 2012” – that you can’t help wondering whether it is the natural state of affairs. Maybe this is what human beings, and the societies they construct, are just like.

So often the descriptions of modern African shadow states, run by a small cabal who control vast sums of money and run the country by paying off interest groups, tribes, regional leaders and so on – they sound like Dark Age warlords who emerge from wars to control territories, have first dibs on treasure, loot and women, then parcel out the loot to their lieutenants. It sound so primeval, it sounds like the kind of organisation of human groups which has occurred in one form or another throughout history, across all continents.

So maybe it’s the natural state of human societies? And maybe it’s we in the ‘Western’ democracies – we with our obsession with ‘fair’ and ‘democratic’ politics, our reliable civil services, our independent judiciaries, our complex civil societies diffusing centres of power across thousands of scattered nodes, with our ideas of being rewarded for hard work, our concepts of meritocracy – maybe it’s we who are the oddities, the exceptions, the unusual societies which need explaining?

Why give aid?

I don’t really see why we should give aid to any African country given the facts that many of them have enough natural resources to pay for their own development if only their rulers hadn’t a) stolen it or b) signed it over to rapacious extraction companies; and b) those countries which have few resources have already received tens of billions of dollars of aid which corrupt rulers have either i) stolen, ii) spent on huge amounts of arms (vide Ethiopia’s Marxist leaders building up the largest army in Africa while its population died of starvation) iii) wasted on badly conceived megaprojects which turned out to be white elephants / enormous wastes of money.

As the t-shirt slogan says, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.

 The argument against violence

Burgis reports from the town of Jos in Nigeria where a terrible massacre of villagers was carried out, men, women and children hacked to pieces or burned alive. The antagonists portrayed it as part of the ongoing ‘war’ between Muslims from the north and Christians from the south. But Burgis talks to a local priest, Ignatius Kaigama, who makes a simple point I don’t remember reading before, which is: God is not such a weakling that he needs you to kill in his name (p.188). You do not need to kill anyone in the name of God or Allah or Brahma. If God wanted people killed, don’t you think he’s able to do that for himself? In other words, anyone who kills ‘in the name of God’ is admitting that their idea of God is  of a weakling who needs human help. Anyone who kills in the name of God, thinks God is weak. In other words, they are the ones who blaspheme and insult God, by implying that he needs human help.

Vagabond In Power by Nneka


Credit

The Looting Machine by Tom Burgis was first published by William Collins in 2015. References are to the 2015 paperback edition.

More Africa reviews