The failure of mainstream development policy to deliver on the promise of eradicating global poverty is increasingly difficult to deny (World Bank 2024). As a result, theories of global development are opening to alternative and critical approaches. In this context there has been a renewal of interest in dependency theory as a rich heterodox tradition of political economy (Kvangraven 2021; Chilcote and Sal茅m Vasconcelos 2022; Antunes de Oliveira and Kvangraven 2024). In a , I turned to one of the foundational scholars of dependency, Walter Rodney (1942-1980), to work through some of the strengths and limits of dependency theory for contemporary studies (Johnson 2023).

Locating Rodney

was an Afro-Guyanese historian, political economist, and scholar of Africa and the Caribbean. He was also a Marxist. However, he treated the resources of historical materialism not as fixed and complete, but as an evolving body of theory and methodology to be developed through concrete empirical research. Rodney wrote a series of major books and essays, both scholarly and popular, and he was a committed political activist. He died much too early in his career, assassinated at the hands of his own government in the streets of Georgetown in 1980.

Rodney鈥檚 significance is evident in many fields. As a card-carrying historian with a PhD from SOAS, he is known by historians as an authority on Africa and the Caribbean. His dissertation, published in 1970 by Oxford, remains foundational in contemporary African historiography (Rodney 1970). In political economy, Rodney is best known for his monumental book How Europe Underdeveloped Africa (1972), which was written for a mass audience but is also rightly regarded as a classic work of dependency theory and world-systems analysis (Wallerstein 1986). Rodney is also regarded as a key theorist in the field of Black Studies, and, most recently, Rodney is treated as a central figure in the literature on racial capitalism (Jenkins and Leroy 2021).

Rodney鈥檚 work contains many resources still to be recovered and read for the problems of today. My own approach to this was to recover his final book, A History of the Guyanese Working People, 1881鈥�1905 (1981), which is scarcely read. The book is neglected for several reasons. Most obviously, it is a painstaking work of primary research, written for specialists on Guyanese and Caribbean history. It does not have the range of his first book on West Africa or the political flair of his most famous book on imperialism and dependency in Africa. Moreover, the book was published posthumously. Rodney was assassinated around the same time that the Third World project itself was assassinated (Prashad 2007), giving way to the neoliberal turn and the debt crises of the 1980s. Theoretical fashions would track this turn, moving away from historical materialism and toward the more culturalist and ideational frame of postcolonial and decolonial studies.

For these reasons, I found Rodney鈥檚 final book ripe for retrieval as a work that exhibits a serious and creative application of a historical materialist framework to analyze capitalism and class in a concrete colonial setting. I sought to reintegrate this work into Rodney鈥檚 wider corpus and into the context of debates about Marxism, dependency theory, and world-systems analysis in the 1970s.

Three Contributions

I organized my findings regarding Rodney鈥檚 work into three main contributions. First, Rodney鈥檚 works contribute to the literature on the nature and history of capitalism, and especially the inherently international constitution of capitalist development. Second, Rodney offered a theoretically attuned and empirically grounded account of the central role of unfree labor in the history of capitalism. Third, Rodney mobilized the same framework to analyze the role of race and racism in capitalist class formation and capitalist development.

Regarding the first point, there are basically two conventional approaches within the Marxist tradition to the question of how to conceptualize capitalism as an object of critical study. The first emphasizes domestic class structure and focuses especially on the relationship between wage labor and capital (Brenner 1977; Wood 2001). The second emphasizes the international division of labor and views the classic form of capitalist large-scale industry analyzed by Marx as but one key node within a wider capitalist world system of production and exchange (Frank 1969; Wallerstein 1974). Unfortunately, these contrasting views often breakdown into one-sided polemics in which those centering class and production frame their work in opposition to those who center international flows of capital and labor.  

But Rodney鈥檚 work does not fit neatly into this division. This is clear right from the beginning, in his first series of studies of West Africa, in which Rodney analysed the formation of the European slave trade by centering the question of class formation both in Europe and on the African continent. Rodney argued that it was precisely through exploiting existing class hierarchies in Africa that the European traders were able to construct the transatlantic system of slavery, which was so essential to the early history of capitalism. Rodney鈥檚 account thus cannot be dismissed on the grounds that it posits international trade as the determining factor of capitalist development to the exclusion of an analysis of class structure (see Brenner 1977: 88). Rodney鈥檚 method takes as its aim the integration of structures of production and structures of exchange.

The second contribution I highlight flows from this theoretical framework and concerns the question of unfree labor in the history of capitalism. In the tradition of Eric Williams before him and of Immanuel Wallerstein after him, Rodney鈥檚 work grasps that capitalist production on a world scale involves multiple forms of labor, including various gradations of free and forced labor (as with Banaji 2011). This comes through especially powerfully in his book on working-class formation in sugar plantation economy of British Guiana. There, Rodney does away with formalistic theories on both sides of the theoretical divide. Capitalism is constituted neither by wage labor relations alone nor by an industrial core defined by wage labor and a periphery defined by bonded labor. Instead, Rodney鈥檚 analysis of colonial capitalism in British Guiana captured complex dynamics of labor control spanning wage labor, slavey, and indenture, in addition to the struggles of independent subsistence labor. This represents an important advance in theorizing core-periphery relations in the global political economy.

Finally, Rodney offered a unique contribution to the theorization of race and racism in a capitalist system. Rodney dealt with the difficult questions of race and class in various ways and for different audiences throughout his career. But it would not seem inappropriate to give special weight to his most mature and developed work on colonial capitalism and class formation. That work contains a remarkable chapter called 鈥淩ace as a Contradiction Among the Working People.鈥� While acknowledging that workers of African and Indian origins had inherited distinct and competing interests from a long history of struggle, the chapter challenges the dominant scholarly view that the whole of Guyanese history had been marked by persistent racial conflict among workers. Rodney rejected this primarily on empirical grounds: scouring the archives, the evidence to support such a claim just wasn鈥檛 there. Rodney thus offered an alternative and more constructive interpretation: the Guyanese working class suffered not from the presence of inherent racial conflict, but from the absence of a mature working-class political culture.

Rodney dedicated the last part of his life to the struggle to construct such a culture. Characteristically, Rodney pointed out that it was the elite classes (including professional academics) who benefited far more than working people from the idea that racial groups possessed inherently conflicting interests. Tragically, it was precisely this sort of thinking that put a target on his back.

Building on Rodney

What does all this mean for contemporary approaches to political economy and development? First, it means that we need to let go of rigid frameworks that split our understanding of capitalism into domestic and international compartments. It is not only possible, but imperative, to ground our studies of class formation and international development in their mutual and overlapping dimensions. Second, we need a better understanding of how capitalism has employed, and continues to employ, variegated forms of labor control (LeBaron and Phillips 2019). Third, and on the practical side, returning to Rodney can help clarify certain deadlocks in contemporary political discourse, especially concerning race and class.

Consider the endless debate on whether class is the primary concern of politics to the exclusion of racial identities, or whether attention to race and empire means 鈥榙ecentering鈥� class. Rodney teaches us that both of these positions are equally disastrous 鈥� and really two sides of the same coin. To 鈥榙ecenter鈥� class would certainly be a non-starter from Rodney鈥檚 perspective. But to abstract class from the social identities that cohere within classes would be no less absurd and self-defeating.

Rodney鈥檚 approach to the political economy of development embodies the imperative of class analysis, which leads us necessarily to grappling with complex social identities in an international frame. Returning to Rodney can aid us in pressing forward on all these questions in the analysis of concrete conjunctures, whether historical or contemporary.

References

Antunes de Oliveira, F. and Kvangraven, I.H. (2023) 鈥楤ack to Dakar: Decolonizing international political economy through dependency theory鈥�, Review of International Political Economy, 30(5), pp. 1676鈥�1700. Available at: .

Banaji, J. (2011) Theory as History: Essays on Modes of Production and Exploitation. Chicago: Haymarket Books.

Brenner, R. (1977) 鈥楾he Origins of Capitalist Development: a Critique of Neo-Smithian Marxism鈥�, New Left Review, pp. 25鈥�92.

Chilcote, R.H. and Sal茅m Vasconcelos, J. (2022) 鈥業ntroduction: Whither Development Theory?鈥�, Latin American Perspectives, 49(1), pp. 4鈥�17. Available at: .

Frank, A.G. (1969) Capitalism and underdevelopment in Latin America: historical studies of Chile and Brazil. New York: Modern Reader Paperbacks.

Jenkins, D. and Leroy, J. (eds) (2021) Histories of Racial Capitalism. New York: Columbia University Press.

Johnson, D.K. (2023) 鈥榃alter Rodney and the method of political economy: retrieving a critical-historical IPE鈥�, Review of International Political Economy, 30(2), pp. 421鈥�436. Available at: .

Kvangraven, I.H. (2021) 鈥楤eyond the Stereotype: Restating the Relevance of the Dependency Research Programme鈥�, Development and Change, 52(1), pp. 76鈥�112. Available at: .

LeBaron, G. and Phillips, N. (2019) 鈥楽tates and the Political Economy of Unfree Labour鈥�, New Political Economy, 24(1), pp. 1鈥�21. Available at: .

Prashad, V. (2008) The Darker Nations: A People鈥檚 History of the Third World. New York: The New Press.

Rodney, W. (1970) A History of the Upper Guinea Coast, 1545-1800. New York: Oxford University Press.

Rodney, W. (1981) A History of the Guyanese Working People, 1881-1905. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press.

Rodney, W. (2018) How Europe Underdeveloped Africa. London: Verso Books.

Wallerstein, I. (1974) The Modern World-System: Capitalist Agriculture and the Origins of the European World-Economy in the Sixteenth Century. New York: Academic Press.

Wallerstein, I. (1986) 鈥榃alter Rodney: The Historian as Spokesman for Historical Forces鈥�, American Ethnologist, 13(2), pp. 330鈥�337.

Wood, E.M. (2002) The origin of capitalism: a longer view. London: Verso.

World Bank (2024) International Debt Report. Washington, D.C.: World Bank. Available at: .

David Kenneth Johnson is a Fellow in the Department of International Relations at the London School of Economics. His research examines the entwined histories of capitalism and empire, the political economy of US foreign policy, and international monetary hierarchy. His work has been published in Review of International Political Economy and Oxford Research Encyclopaedia of International Studies. 

Photo: .

“Europe鈥檚 new external investment strategy needs to reconnect with historical business models we are going back to white elephants of 1970s 鈥� because that鈥檚 what partners want“

– G7 official in a speech on Trade and Finance.

“The era of Western dominance has indeed definitely ended“

– Josep Borrell (2024).^听

On 28 January 2024, three members of the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS), Niger, Mali and Burkina Faso, announced their withdrawal from ECOWAS.  Created in 1974, ECOWAS is a regional economic community serving as a large trading bloc, to enhance the regional integration and economic cooperation of its 15 member countries.  The three countries鈥� decision to leave the trade-bloc so forthrightly, was related to a series of ECOWAS-imposed sanctions on their military governments and the countries鈥� objection to French influence in the bloc. Long-standing dissatisfaction with the ECOWAS was also an overarching factor; member countries include some of the most resource-rich nations, but on the whole members barely made any progress on socio-economic indicators linked to the ECOWAS promise of prosperity through regional integration.

Political uncertainty in the trade-bloc further deteriorated in mid-February 2024, when the Senegalese President Macky Sall, unilaterally postponed the country鈥檚 presidential elections and was later ousted. Faced with such existential challenges, ECOWAS lifted sanctions on Niger and other countries within a month of their imposition. While the potential breakdown of ECOWAS and the general trajectory of some African countries into authoritarianism, may not seem like a radical shift in the continent鈥檚 history, the incendiary global context, which compelled ECOWAS to lift sanctions is unprecedented. The neo-colonial drivers of the current crumbling political order in Sudan and the Congo as well as the ongoing genocide in Palestine, indelibly expose the reality that we are entering into an era of naked colonial violence. Backlash to US-centred imperialism is growing. In March 2024, Niger suspended all military relations with the US, citing issues related to US encroachment upon its sovereignty. Embedded in this evolving situation, the episodic and ad-hoc de-linking of Global South countries from Global North countries and their dominance in blocs such as the ECOWAS is representative of a broader shift in Africa鈥檚 resistance against political and economic subordination to G7 countries.

Against this background, the Western powers鈥� new and evolving development strategy in Africa offers important insights into how the G7 countries are failing to register the transformative changes in Africa.  In a closed-door speech on investment, trade and finance forum, a G7 official described Europe鈥檚 new external investment strategy as one that harkens back to the White elephants of the 1970s. While the speaker was using the term 鈥榃hite Elephant鈥� to signify the EU鈥檚 interest in funding hard infrastructure, imbued with a promise of investment and growth for recipient countries, he clearly failed to grasp its meaning. A 鈥榳hite elephant鈥� is an overly expensive infrastructure asset, which fails to generate value for the economy.

Considered in light of the correct definition of the term, the West鈥檚 new development strategy does seem to be going towards expensive infrastructure projects, spurred by a reactionary, performative but ultimately imagined competition with China. I make this point through a comparative analysis between the G7s contemporary development strategy vis-脿-vis the Chinese development model as it unfolds within the broader demise of US-led imperialism.

Delineating Origins: Historical Imperialism vs. Bipolar World Order

Most comparative literature on Western and Chinese development strategies in Africa, fails to ground the colonial and neo-colonial reality of African development. This central omission engenders a hollow comparison, which ultimately forgoes the question of temporality and the historical nature of a unipolar imperial world order. Centring the agency of African countries entails a historical mapping, which not only connects the past to the present but is also cognizant of when and how path dependencies are ruptured. Three facts are key to any comparative analysis of Western-Chinese competition in Africa.

Firstly, China鈥檚 current global developmental model, which can be continuously traced to the early 2000s cannot compare to the 100-year history of European imperialism in Africa.  This temporality is central to the analyses, not a mere addendum. This is because Europe never left Africa. Chinese engagement with African countries took place in conjunction with European and Western economic and political interference in the region. China鈥檚 rich history of supporting anti-imperialist struggles in Africa as well as leading South-South cooperation initiatives under Mao Zedong have been extensively documented and present a very different vision of development rooted in third world solidarity.  However, this historical analysis is completely ignored in most mainstream analysis and China鈥檚 engagement with Africa and the Global South since the 2000s is placed on par with the Western imperialist model.

As others have argued more concretely, the notion of imperialism is embedded in a historical structure of global capitalism, which cannot be abstracted and selectively applied to the new bi-polar world (Capasso & Kadri, 2023; Ajl 2024, Yeros 2024). While Chinese investment projects must be subject to scrutiny and critique, the notion, context and nature of imperialism, old and new, must be based on the systemisation of global capitalist extraction. A starting point here is to note that China鈥檚 鈥榞oing out鈥� or external investment strategy emerged in the aftermath of its remarkable achievement of alleviating domestic poverty. The Chinese development experience was thus not predicated on a model of imperial extraction, which has been the modus-operandi of most Western developed nations.

Secondly and aligned with the first point, the nature and scale of Chinese investments in Africa within this short period has been transformational in its focus on infrastructure and emphasis on the systemisation of productive capacities in African countries. The Chinese state-led 鈥榞oing out鈥� strategy, approached development from a holistic perspective, centring productive investment and infrastructure as the key to enabling inter-sectoral and cross-sectoral linkages. This was possible owing to China鈥檚 capacity to maintain control over the entire value chain of development: from providing financing through its state banks to the mapping, completion and execution of projects.

This model of development-investment has not been the nature of Western investments, which have largely focused on 鈥渟oft development鈥� since the late 1990s (explained below). Most importantly, countries categorised as low-income and least developed were considered extremely risky for Western capital and therefore not a desirable investment destination. The huge influx of Chinese investment into these countries in fact addressed this obstacle for Western capital. China鈥檚 risk-taking capacity engendered and facilitated other investment strategies. Therefore, the rise of Western infrastructure connectivity projects- such as roads, bridges  must be located as derivative of China鈥檚 鈥榞oing out鈥� strategy.

Thirdly and building upon the two points above, while the very purpose of a comparative analysis is to juxtapose differences and similarities between approaches, mainstream analysis听a priori听assumes an overlap between Chinese and Western development strategies based on a superficial semblance. This assumption can be observed in the equivocation of two very different financing models in journalistic reporting as well as mainstream academic literature. A forced similitude between a neoliberal financing model (US/EU) and a state-led financing model (China) thus reverberates endless confusion as opposed to producing any real analysis. As Samir Amin (2018) reminds us:

“Deng Xiaoping said that you should start from looking at actual facts. It is exactly what the conventional professional 鈥渆conomists鈥� 鈥� all of them, including the Chinese 鈥渆xperts鈥� trained in the USA and brainwashed 鈥� do not do.”^听

To overcome this limitation, the analysis must start from comparing the nature of Chinese and Western development strategies.

Calibrating Development and Conditions

A basic definition of 鈥榠nternational development鈥� is the financial and technical transfer of resources from some countries to others, to the ends of empowering the latter. While the 1948 Marshall Plan for Europe was premised on the reconstruction and the reorientation of European markets to be better aligned with the hegemony of US capital, the evolution of Western development strategies in the Global South took on a markedly different form.  The 1980s was the beginning of this transformative period, whereby Western development strategies and aid models laid an exclusive emphasis on targeting social indicators in Global South countries. Public goods such as health and education were major recipients of soft grants, however, these grants were often conditioned on the implementation of a privatisation roadmap as well as harmonising tools of liberal democracy such as 鈥楪ood Governance鈥�, exclusive funding for initiatives such as transparency, as well as monitoring and reform of electoral processes.

In addition, this financing model remained unaccompanied by investment in public spending, fiscal consolidation to promote developmental policy making, industrialisation in productive sectors and the reform and deepening of the financial sector to achieve financial autonomy. This created an artificial wedge in the very meaning of development: aid-led dependency was designed to separate and prioritise 鈥榮oft infrastructure鈥� at the expense of 鈥榟ard infrastructure.鈥� Donor dependency based on the soft development agenda accompanied by a marketization of public goods therefore accelerated the hollowing out of many Global South countries.  Privatisation successfully transformed the political model of governance in these countries: converting citizens into consumers.

In contrast, from the very beginning, China鈥檚 鈥榞oing out鈥� strategy in the 2000s was premised on the strengthening and expansion of productive investments and public services, making no artificial distinction between 鈥榟ard鈥� infrastructure and 鈥榮oft鈥� infrastructure. The primary focus was on the construction of infrastructure project tools including bridges, hospitals and roads albeit complemented by transfer and sharing of knowledge such as in medical training, civil service training for public bureaucrats and strengthening of public institutions. China鈥檚 emphasis on skill development, technology transfer and knowledge sharing is often ignored by most accounts comparing Chinese and Western development strategies. The fact that such knowledge sharing comes outside of the framework of Intellectual Property governance became much more visible after China鈥檚 distribution of Covid-19 vaccines to Global South countries during the Covid-19 pandemic. The distribution of vaccines as a public good was also accompanied by humanitarian assistance to some countries, highlighting the necessity of an alternative approach to development especially as western pharmaceutical companies enjoyed quadrupling profits through the sale of their vaccines.

An important and often repeated point of comparison between the Western and Chinese model is the specific nature and role of conditionalities. While the construct of 鈥榗onditionality鈥� as a necessary requisite for development assistance including grants, concessional flows and technical assistance is explicitly associated with Bretton Woods Institutions and Western bilateral development strategies emerging in the late 1990s, it has deeper roots in colonialism.

Western development strategy has been conditioned towards ensuring that the West remains distant from its historical past: in Africa鈥檚 case this essentially means the evasion of the Western countries鈥� reparative responsibility to African countries. Germany鈥檚 agreement to pay reparations to Namibia in 2021 was a historic shift but the modality and actual implementation of these reparations remains contested as some consider it 鈥榯okenistic鈥� in nature. Beyond this case, Western development policies, exemplified by the EU have been explicitly conditioned upon Africa鈥檚 compliance in enabling the free trade of resources, goods and commodities to the EU whilst simultaneously curbing African migration through the externalisation of European border militarization.

In comparison, albeit without colonial baggage, China鈥檚 contemporary development model is also concerned with access to commodities, raw materials and market creation for the absorption of Chinese surplus. However, unlike Western development strategies, this model is not linked to demands for better governance, interest in regime change for better compliance with Chinese investments, the implementation of sanctions and the imposition of penalties when conditions are not met. While select conditions are attached to China鈥檚 project procurement and contracts for goods and services as well as in cases of debt restructuring, the pattern which emerges in the impact of these conditions is markedly different from conditions embedded in the West dominated global financial architecture. China鈥檚 approach to conditions is largely concerned with ensuring the longevity and guarantee of economic investments and has produced both positive as well as adverse results for Global South countries.

However, these conditions are not egregious enough to immobilise countries, such as those observed in the historical and on-going impact of IMF and World Bank conditionalities.  The incompatibility of conditionalities in both Western and Chinese development strategies does not absolve a criticism of China, however it is equally important to ascertain the nature and context of Chinese conditions in Global South countries. The global impact of Western sanctions, rise of Western protectionism and competition between the West and China, in every possible realm has certain repercussions for China including in the realm of multilateralism and debt reform.  These need to be carefully researched.

In summary, a comparative analysis between  western development strategies and the Chinese development model necessitates rigour in differentiating between the historical and structural origins of their approaches. Western conditionalities have ultimately resulted in the gradual erosion of  sovereignty in Global South countries, repressing any avenues of third world solidarity and South-South cooperation.  China鈥檚 development strategies do not replicate this model.

The new Scramble for Africa: By Whom and How?

The comparative grounds for Western and Chinese development in Africa have gradually taken a new turn through a competing series of infrastructure connectivity models.  These models have some variation in their discrete proposals however the aim is to mobilise private finance and invest replacing traditional aid and concessional finance. More importantly, the strategies are traditional alliances between 鈥榣ike-minded partners鈥�, including the US, South Korea and Japan. US commercial investors and multilateral development institutions under the auspices of the US-led Partnership for Global Infrastructure and Investment (PGII) ensure the continuation of the failing US-led neoliberal order.

While different models now focus on enhanced coordination between Export Credit Agencies (ECAs) to effectively create an environment for domestic  investments to be subsidised through export credits and development financing it is important to note that China鈥檚 development model has always combined financing and trade with China鈥檚 Eximbank being at the centre of its global investments. The Western turn towards hard 鈥榠nfrastructure鈥�, use of export credits for development suggests a superficial emulation of characteristics which mark the Chinese development. This is because beyond cosmetic shapeshifting, the Western corporate sector remains the determinant factor shaping the new development strategies, while the Chinese development model remains state-led under the direction of the Chinese communist party. While China continues to face a combination of different internal and international pressures, the Chinese State supersedes China鈥檚 domestic iteration of the private sector. In contrast, vessels like the EU are not simply promoting the interests of the EU private sector but strengthening the private sector of G7 countries to the ends of ensuring the continuation of the US-led neoliberal order.

This is most starkly visible in the EU鈥檚 recent attempt to balance its multiple goals of controlling migration through claims to 鈥渟ecuring鈥� its borders, supporting the genocide in Gaza and broader colonization of Palestine and partnering with US-aligned Gulf capital to extend neoliberal policies throughout the region. In March 2024, the EU provided a 鈧�7.4 billion ($8.06 billion) funding package to Egypt for the period 2024-2027. The EU support complemented the IMF鈥檚 expanded $8 billion loan deal with Egypt in the same month and was also complemented by a $35bn investment deal between Egypt and the UAE for developing the Ras al-Hekma peninsula. Egypt is therefore a site for the West鈥檚 new unfolding development agenda, which seeks to securitise EU borders against African and Palestinian migrants as the EU and the West continue to support Israel militarily.

As the Western order declines, the EU and developed countries are under pressure to invest and deliver on greater distributional gains, especially when it comes to serving Global South elite interests. From this perspective, China鈥檚 developmental model is also not entirely immune to the contradictions of capitalist development. These contradictions must be analysed from the duality of China鈥檚 national or domestic experience as well as its external development model. China continues to experiment with select liberalisation and privatisation with an overarching retention of state ownership.

China鈥檚 experimentation with Public-Private Partnerships (PPPs) on a domestic level and the initiation of PPPs in recipient countries is one such example. Other examples include the nature of Asian Investment and Infrastructure Bank (AIIB) investments in Global South countries, China鈥檚 adoption of private finance instruments created by Bretton Woods Institutions and China鈥檚 role in reforming the sovereign debt architecture. The pressures of operating in a neo-liberal world order, playing on the 鈥榦penness鈥� of countries, which have free trade agreements with Western markets and integration into the development finance architecture creates a host of issues for China and recipient countries. These issues require scrutiny, critique and reform especially concerning their impact on Global South countries.

A critical approach to Chinese investment also means a concrete understanding of China鈥檚 global rise, which initiated as an interplay with the existing hegemonic order but has been subject to China鈥檚 vigilance in disciplining its companies and curbing rentierism, both at the national level as well as in its international projects.  In 2021, China launched the Global Development Initiative (GDI), which is designed to complement the BRI but embeds a vision of development based on China鈥檚 own development experience with an enhanced focus on knowledge sharing, technology transfer and South-South development. The initiative is free of patents and dominance of intellectual property rights and rent seeking. Although it is too early to predict the developmental impact of the GDI, China鈥檚 focus on a more communal approach to development, such as in the case of Covid-19 vaccine distribution needs to be contextualised and reflected in the GDI model. China continues to adapt, evolve and regulate its economic rise. Nonetheless, it is ideologically, structurally and materially a different development model, which necessitates engagement on its own terms, even when these terms appear superficially comparable to the development models of traditional imperial powers like the US and the EU.

Conclusion

As Western blocs such as the EU transform into a full-fledged war economy strengthening NATO, proposing the use of its public banks like the European Investment Bank (EIB) to lend to the defence industry as well as exploring the option of a new EU army, it is becoming increasingly clear that the Western constructs of 鈥榙evelopment鈥�, 鈥榠nvestment鈥� and 鈥榮ecurity鈥� can no longer remain in their siloed guises.

This is not merely a turn towards Keynesian warfare 鈥� it is a continuation of Western history and a symbol of the West鈥檚 political woes, as its countries succumb to domestic fascism. Meanwhile China continues its strategy of deepening the Belt Road Initiative (BRI) at a pace of its own, subject to the contradictions of capitalist development including dealing with issues of problematic projects in recipient countries. The paradigm of development as a comparative ground for Western and Chinese is not external to these formations but embedded within these changes. As detailed above, the grounds for a comparative analysis between the West and China must extend from their historical engagement with Africa to the current situation of escalating violence and the decline of US-led Western order.

African agency between such powers lies in securing the interests of its people through a combination of strategies including stronger criteria for partnerships, de-linking with US-led imperial conduits and an enhanced focus on perpetually increasing its bargaining power through strengthening its domestic productive capacities.

Farwa Sial is a Research Associate at the Department of Economics, School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS).

Featured Photograph: China mall on the spintex Road, Accra, Ghana ().

This article was first published on the ROAPE blog.

Notes

Borrell Josep (2024) Munich Security Conference: the four tasks on the EU鈥檚 geopolitical agenda . .

 The sanctions first implemented on Niger and then applied selectively to Mali and Burkina Faso included trade bans, freezing of financial transactions, closure of borders between the ECOWAS and the three countries as well as travel bans on select individuals.

Al Jazeera (2024) Niger suspends military cooperation with US: Spokesman. 

 The Group of Seven (G7) is an informal forum that brings together the advanced industrialised economies of Italy, Canada, France, Germany, Japan, the United Kingdom and the United States of America. The European Union also participates in the group. The G7 is home to 776 million people and the aggregate domestic product (GDP) of G7 member states represents about 30 percent of the global economy.

 Yu, G. T. (1977). China and the Third World. Asian Survey, 17(11), 1036鈥�1048. ;  Mao Zedong (1959) Africa鈥檚 task is to struggle against imperialism. Available at the Wilson Centre Archive ; Taylor, I. (2018) 鈥楳ao Zedong鈥檚 China and Africa鈥�, Twentieth Century Communism, 15, 47+, available: 

 Capasso, M., & Kadri, A. (2023). The imperialist question: A sociological approach. Middle East Critique, 32(2), 149鈥�166 ; Ajl, M. (2024). Palestine鈥檚 Great Flood: Part I. Agrarian South: Journal of Political Economy, 13(1), 62-88. ; Yeros, P. (2024). A World Will Only Be Possible by the Intervention of the 鈥淪ixth Great Power鈥�. Agrarian South: Journal of Political Economy, 13(1), 14-40. 

 Samir Amin (May 2018) 鈥� Financial Globalization: Should China move in? Defend Democracy press. 

 New Arab News (2024) Egypt economic crisis: What is Ras al-Hekma and why is Cairo 鈥榮elling it鈥� to UAE? 

 Lydia Jones & Michael J. Bloomfield (2020) PPPs in China: Does the Growth in Chinese PPPs Signal a Liberalising Economy? New Political Economy, 25:5, 829-847, DOI:10.1080/13563467.2020.1721451

 China South Global Project (2024) China Could Fund Kenyan Rail Through Public-Private Partnership: Kenyan President  

 Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the Republic of China (2022) Jointly Advancing鈥倀he Global Development Initiative and Writing鈥俛 New Chapter for Common Development.  

 Somdeep Sen, NATO and the global colour line, International Affairs, Volume 100, Issue 2, March 2024, Pages 491鈥�507, 

Euractiv (2024) EIB ready to 鈥榮tretch鈥� lending criteria as it prepares for EU Council鈥檚 call to arms 

Defensenews (2024) EU member countries push back on Italy鈥檚 call for European army 

In the realm of听, the 鈥榳hite saviour鈥� trope has long been a subject of听. This phenomenon, often rooted in colonialist attitudes, positions Western individuals or entities as benevolent rescuers of non-Western communities, usually without acknowledging or addressing systemic multidimensional inequalities, colonial/racial privilege, and local agency of indigenous communities. The white saviour complex has not only perpetuated听听but has also听听the efforts and voices of those it claims to help.

As artificial intelligence (AI) has emerged as a global force to potentially , we see a new manifestation of the white saviour industrial complex within emerging global AI governance.

Global governance and the (colonial) race towards AI supremacy

The race towards AI supremacy has increasingly mirrored colonial-era power dynamics, with  and  striving to establish dominance in global AI technology and its governance. In this contemporary digital race, wealthier nations, primarily from the Global North, leverage their significant resources and technological advancements to dictate the terms of AI development and deployment. This pursuit often marginalises and sidelines the contributions and needs of the Global Majority, perpetuating  of exploitation and inequality.

The development of AI systems is inextricably linked to the continuities of historical injustices, constituting a  There are global economic and political power imbalances in AI production, with value being extracted from the  in the Majority world to benefit Western technology companies. This perpetuates an 鈥榠nternational division of digital labour鈥� that concentrates the most stable, well-paid AI jobs in the West, while exporting the most precarious, low-paid work to the Majority world.

The competitive drive for AI supremacy is not just about technological innovation but also about control 

Additionally, AI development is often shaped by Western values and knowledge, marginalising non-Western alternatives and limiting possibilities for decolonising AI 鈥� a reflection of a broader pattern of 鈥榟egemonic knowledge production鈥� within the 鈥樷��.

As the old adage goes 鈥渢here is nothing new under the sun鈥�, from the , research on , to, the epistemic challenges in global AI governance are reflective of historical structural inequities. Much of the research and policy development in many academic fields has historically been conducted by scholars and institutions based in the Global North. This dominance has shaped the research agenda, methodologies, and policy recommendations in ways that  with the needs and perspectives of the Global Majority.

Scholars from the Global North often have more resources, better funding, and greater access to academic networks, which allows them to  many fields. Likewise, the ethical, legal, social, and policy (ELSP) research on AI development and deployment is often led by Western academics who prioritise issues, solutions, and policies that resonate with Western perspectives. Consequently, Western academics also  other contexts, needs, and overall create a  that does not reflect the socioeconomic realities and lived experiences of the Global Majority, or risk perpetuating existing forms of .

Navigating the white saviour complex in global AI governance

Much like traditional international development initiatives, AI governance often involves Western-developed solutions being implemented in non-Western contexts, with imposed solutions through a 鈥榗opy and paste鈥� approach to Western 鈥榞olden standards鈥�, with several significant consequences. For example, Western nations often export their governance models as 鈥榞olden standards鈥�, assuming that these frameworks will be universally applicable. However, this approach neglects the unique social, political, and economic landscapes of non-Western countries. For instance,  may not be suitable for countries with different governance structures or developmental priorities.

These solutions often designed for Western innovation ecosystems do not consider non-Western local nuances, needs, or cultural contexts. As a result, they are often ineffective or   rather than fostering self-sufficiency, which can lead to a loss of agency and autonomy, perpetuating cycles of dependency and underdevelopment, with devastating .

Furthermore, the imposition of Western AI governance frameworks can reinforce a cycle of dependency, where non-Western countries rely on external expertise and solutions rather than developing their own capacities. This dynamic can stifle local innovation and self-sufficiency, leading to long-term detrimental effects on local governance and technological development.

While there are increased calls for a decolonial informed approach (DIA) to , from  and , in many global AI forums and discussions,  Western technical experts and policymakers dominate the conversation, often marginalising those who are most affected by AI technologies. This exclusion mirrors  of disenfranchisement and reinforces geopolitical power imbalances.

The ethical considerations surrounding AI governance, such as data privacy, bias mitigation, and transparency, may be inadequately addressed when Western frameworks are applied without . For example, data privacy laws that work in Western contexts may not consider the cultural attitudes towards privacy in non-Western societies, leading to ethical dilemmas and . While these frameworks are important and often abide to Western versions of 鈥榙emocracy鈥� and 鈥榬ule of law鈥�,  reveal that this emerging ethical imperialism may not fully encompass the lived experience, diverse values, and ethical considerations of different cultures in our global society. Imposing a singular ethical perspective can be seen as a form of ethical imperialism, where Western norms are prioritised over non-Western local traditions and beliefs.

, including AI systems, are not value neutral, they are developed by individuals and organisations that bring their own values, beliefs, and biases into the . For instance, if the majority of AI researchers come from a particular cultural or socioeconomic background, their perspectives will likely dominate the development process, leading to  that reflect their worldviews. This can result in algorithms that prioritise certain types of data or decision-making processes that align with those values, while neglecting others. These embedded values can influence how technologies are designed, implemented, and utilised, potentially perpetuating existing power dynamics and intersectional inequalities.

Another concern is that many  organisations that are increasingly funding access to digital public goods (DPG) , digital public infrastructure (DPI), and AI related policies still maintain an inherent colonial culture where as  writes 鈥淪uddenly, we find ourselves in a world where the act of calling out racism is more offensive than racism itself.鈥�

From ,  and the inequality associated with , we must critically address undertones of injustice to ensure that AI advancements contribute to equitable digital development rather than reinforcing historical injustices and systemic power imbalances of .

The South African context: an insidious manifestation of the white saviour trope

In South Africa, the white saviour trope has subtle nuances, but with very harmful effects. The country鈥檚 history of apartheid has left , with a privileged minority often holding significant power and influence, particularly . Today, this dynamic is evident in how privileged minorities are supported to position themselves as the 鈥榲oices of African people鈥� and 鈥榓dvocating African values鈥� at the global stage on discussions related to frontier technologies and the overall digital economy.

An unsurprising phenomena since, according to the , 鈥淭he dualism that stems from the legacy of demographic and spatial exclusion in South Africa is reflected in the digital economy landscape, and a large share of South Africans remain disconnected from the opportunities it has created.鈥�

Certain privileged individuals and groups assume the role of leaders representing broader Indigenous local communities often legitimised by  with Indigenous subordinates. These 鈥楢frican voices鈥� may not genuinely reflect the diverse perspectives and needs of the Indigenous majority. Instead, their viewpoints often align more closely with their own interests of , the , or of the Western institutions they are affiliated with.

These self-appointed spokespersons backed by generous funding often act as intermediaries between local communities and international entities. However, their legitimacy and commitment to true diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) are often questionable as they benefit from the status quo of being palatable to international donors. As , they have limited motivation to challenge systemic issues and the overall status quo in practice when situations that call for allyship, ethics, and decolonisation (which these individuals publicly advocate for) end in cognitive dissonance and default to protecting .

By ignoring , maintaining colonial practices in IDA, and encouraging privileged minorities to dominate the narrative on the socio-technical disruptions associated with new technologies for the Global Majority, we risk perpetuating  which hinders genuine progress towards real equity, epistemic justice, and risk perpetuating scenarios where the voices of the marginalized and real victims remain unheard.

Moving towards truly responsible global AI governance

To counter the white saviour industrial complex in global AI governance, a shift towards more inclusive and equitable practices is necessary, that places positionality and reflexivity at the centre of global AI governance and overall ELSP research on the digital economy. This shift could be based upon the following approaches.

Inclusive representation is paramount, voices from the Global Majority and marginalised communities should be included in global AI governance discussions. This means creating platforms and opportunities including resource allocation for diverse perspectives to be heard and considered.

Context-specific solutions should be considered. AI solutions should be tailored to local contexts, ethical, legal, social, cultural, and economic factors should be considered through engaging with local experts and communities, to understand their unique needs and challenges. Local experts should also be supported with the capacity to create home-grown solutions as well as contribute to technical discussions at the global stage.

Moreover, funding to boost collaborative frameworks must be prioritised. Developing collaborative governance frameworks that involve multiple stakeholders, including governments, civil society, and the private sector, can help create more balanced and effective policies. These frameworks require concerted funding and should prioritise bottom-up co-creation and mutually beneficial partnerships, rather than top-down imposition.

Ethical pluralism is key. Recognising and respecting the plurality of ethical perspectives is essential. Global AI governance should be flexible enough to incorporate different ethical frameworks and values, allowing for a more nuanced and comprehensive approach to AI ethics.

Finally, there is a need to decolonise research and policy. In both AI governance and development economics, it is important to decolonise research and policy-making processes. This involves including reflexivity on researcher positionality, valuing indigenous knowledge systems, promoting local research initiatives, and ensuring that policy recommendations are grounded in local realities, including through thought leadership of indigenous technical experts representing their communities.

The white saviour industrial complex in global AI governance reflects broader historical and systemic issues. As AI continues to shape our world, it is imperative that we address these issues head-on. We can move towards a more just and equitable global AI governance landscape by reflecting on the atrociousness of the past to ensure our collective efforts to foster inclusivity in the digital age respect local contexts, embrace ethical pluralism, reflexivity, and a decolonial informed approach鈥攁n exercise which will not only enhance the effectiveness of truly global AI solutions for good but also empower communities worldwide to shape their own technological futures.

 is a pioneering policy entrepreneur. As founder and executive director of the  (DepHUB), she is the first indigenous African woman to establish an independent think tank in South Africa. Shamira was a 2023-2024 Policy Leader Fellow at the EUI Florence School of Transnational Governance. She is an active member of many global expert working groups. Shamira has published a wide range of knowledge products that focus on diverse areas such as measuring the data-driven digital economy, sustainable digital transformation, and the multidimensional aspects of crafting human-centred responsible transnational AI governance, that benefits the Global Majority.

This post was first published on .

By Robrecht Declercq & Duncan Money

7 January 1968 was a day of celebration across the Congolese Copperbelt, marked with marches and festivities in the mining towns, bonuses for mineworkers and medals for those who had labored many years in the industry. All this marked the one-year anniversary of the foundation of G茅camines, the state-owned company that was established when the Congolese government nationalized the operations of Union Mini猫re du Haut Katanga (UMHK).

Early in 1967, the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) had decided to nationalize the largest and most powerful colonial company that still operated on its soil, after a dispute about where the headquarters of the company should reside. But deeper concerns stemmed from the fact that a former colonial business still controlled the most important natural treasures of the newly independent Congo. The Congolese had high hopes that the new company would propel economic growth through significant expansion of production. Ultimately, these hopes met with bitter disappointment.

It was not only Congolese people who entertained such hopes, however. What happened in Congo was part of what we term a post-colonial world of copper (1960-1980) in our edited collection . The book is a history of the global production of copper, its labour relations, technologies and the international political economy across the 19^th and 20^th century. The transition, and ultimately, failure of this unique albeit brief episode of postcolonial control is one of the focuses of the book. We assert that the national fragmentation of copper production in the postcolonial world, was in fact deeply intertwined with transnational influences and exchanges. It expressed an agenda that was shared in the Global South: to straighten out the huge economic imbalances with the Global North.

The nationalization of UMHK was contagious. Zambia nationalized the mines in 1969, Chile did so in 1971 while the military junta of Peru nationalized the mines of Cerro de Pasco in 1973. Within a span of a few years, control over the industry in the world鈥檚 four-largest copper exporters had passed from American and European multinationals to newly-assertive states. The postcolonial world of copper  embodied economic sovereignty, state-led national development schemes and international co-operation. It was pursued by military juntas, dictators and socialist-inspired leaders alike. In all these countries, the red metal symbolized the national treasury, the material of progress. As Zambia鈥檚 President Kenneth Kaunda remarked, Zambians were 鈥渂orn with a copper spoon in our mouths.鈥�

The nationalizations were celebrated in the copper states as a re-birth of the nation, an expression of true 鈥榠ndependence鈥�. After political sovereignty, countries established economic sovereignty. In Chile, stamps, postcards, paintings celebrated the nationalization of the copper seams as a major achievement. Songs were made. One remarkable postcard equaled the control over copper with the coming-of-age of Chile as a modern and developed state, no longer in a state of dependency: 鈥淐hile se pone pantalones largos (鈥�) ahora el cobre es chileno鈥�.  These vivid expressions were no less different than the carefully orchestrated celebrations held in Congo.

This was no less than a revolutionary overhaul of an older world of copper, one we term in our book the 鈥楢merican world of copper鈥� that endured from the late 19^th to the mid-20^th centuries. The international copper industry was not only dominated by American firms (with some notable exceptions) in these years but also by American-born ideas of company structures, technologies and labor practices.

American dominance over the copper industry emerged alongside an enormous increase in demand for copper during the Second Industrial Revolution. Electrification required copper to generate and distribute power, and output rose enormously. World copper production was about 55,000 tons in 1850 and almost 900,000 tons in 1910.

Over the late 19^th century, the American world of copper spawned huge multinational companies that developed a firm grip over new copper mines in Latin America and Central Africa. How these companies operated in different places was remarkably similar: an oppressive paternalistic control that sought control over virtually all the aspects of workers lives and an unhealthy influence of (domestic) politics. Copper companies controlled the entire chain: from mine to consumer was the slogan of the notorious Anaconda copper company that operated in Montana and Chile.

But in the 1960 and 1970s copper states took their place. Importantly, copper states were aware of the fact that domestic control did not suffice. On the initiative of Zambia, copper states established an international cartel in 1967: CIPEC (Conseil intergouvernemental des pays exportateurs de cuivre). The acronym was an obvious reference to the oil cartel OPEC that had upended the global oil industry.

Much like its more famous counterpart, the CIPEC aimed to control the price of copper by coordinating production between the major exporters. This was part of broader efforts by producer nations to contest the structure of the world economy and take advantage that industrialized economies had on raw materials from elsewhere. European economies in particular were heavily dependent on copper imported from CIPEC members.

CIPEC鈥檚 membership soon expanded too. In 1975, Papua New Guinea and Indonesia together with Yugoslavia and even Australia joined CIPEC. The control over commodities like copper seemed to offer a tangible way to actually reform the global economy. Indeed, industries could ill-afford to be cut from metals and energy sources like oil.

CIPEC also showed remarkable continuities. Mining multinationals during the American world of copper had endeavored to control global copper production to support prices and revenues. Yet they had found this an extremely difficult task, an inauspicious legacy for CIPEC.

By the late 1970s, the bid for state-controlled and internationally coordinated growth based on copper tragically failed. Unlike OPEC, CIPEC controlled an insufficient portion of global production and couldn鈥檛 discipline member states to stick to planned production cuts. Moreover, once the world economy went into decline after the Oil Crisis of 1973, international copper prices slid into the abyss, causing massive problems in the copper-producing states.

G茅camines still exists today, but in a very different form. Its demise encapsulated the end of post-colonial world of copper. After two decades of low copper prices, its operations were privatized under a World Bank program in the early 2000s. Congo鈥檚 mines today are owned and operated by large multinational corporations (plus some state-owned Chinese companies).

Born with a Copper Spoon describes this moment of postcolonial world of copper, both its intense feelings of nationalism and the international cooperation it entailed. Ultimately what happened in the copper mines in Africa and Latin America was salient in the important bid of the Global South to straighten out the huge imbalances of the world economy, which culminated in a program of action called the New International Economic Order (NIEO).

The underlying ambitions and ideas of the postcolonial world of copper have far from disappeared. The sovereignty of natural resources has become much more widely accepted. Furthermore, the situation of today demonstrates important parallels with historical periods in the copper industry: an energy transition that will require enormous quantities of copper, wide anticipation of prolonged high copper prices and states around the world taking a greater role in the industry. A new world of copper is in the making?

Robrecht Declercq is a historian, writer, and lecturer at the UCL-Saint Louis de Bruxelles.

听is a freelance historian and consultant and his work focuses on the mining industry.

The agreement recently negotiated between the Government of Ethiopia and the International Monetary Fund (IMF) not only imposes austerity on the government, but also risks destroying the country鈥檚 model of economic development.

Ethiopia, Africa鈥檚 second-most populous country, has featured tremendous progress in its economic development in the past twenty years. A developmental state driving public investment while imposing tight regulations on the financial sector, a managed exchange rate, and capital controls, achieved a significant decline in hunger and malnutrition, and improvements in literacy and other relevant human development indicators.

Nonetheless, Ethiopia is facing serious macroeconomic challenges including high inflation of close to 30 percent, a current account deficit, foreign exchange shortage, and slowing growth, jointly with domestic conflicts and climate change impacts. This situation has forced the country into negotiations with creditors on its external debt, even though Ethiopia鈥檚 external debt stock compared to GDP is less compared to other low-income countries. International financial institutions see government budget deficits as the main culprit in causing inflation and an overvalued real exchange rate that causes trade deficits and balance-of-payments problems while crowding out private investment in the country. End of July 2024, the Government of Ethiopia and the International Monetary Fund (IMF) concluded an agreement on policy action to be taken for a stepwise release of a loan of USD 3.4 billion from the IMF, starting with the immediate release of USD 1 billion, as well as additional grants and loans from the World bank. The agreement is built on the following : 1) floating the exchange rate; 2) modernizing the monetary policy framework going from reserve targeting to interest rate targeting; 3) ending monetary financing of the government budget via the National Bank of Ethiopia (NBE) and exiting financial repression; 4) improving mobilization of domestic government revenues; 5) debt restructuring with external creditors; 6) strengthening the financial position of state-owned enterprises.

What is wrong with the analysis?

This analysis of Ethiopia鈥檚 situation is misguided. Starting with inflation, at the Ethiopia鈥檚 government budget shows that over the past years, there have only been deficits if capital expenditures and current expenditures are considered jointly. Yet, keeping capital expenditures separately (it is appropriate to finance new investment with new loans to match additional output with additional money) reveals that current expenditures are more than covered by revenues meaning that the current budget is not even facing a deficit. Rather than by the narrow monetarist focus on government budgets, inflation can be better explained by past currency devaluations as well as various supply-side bottlenecks. For instance, multiple domestic conflicts in Ethiopia have impaired agricultural output, which, all along with population growth and urbanization, led to increasing food prices.

To be clear, there are problems arising from Ethiopia鈥檚 current economic framework in a situation of foreign exchange shortage: for example, instead of investing export revenues in production capacity, exporters often decided to use the part of foreign currency, which they were not obliged to surrender to the NBE, to exchange it at a favorable rate in the illegal parallel market or to illegally import consumer goods, which are sold at high prices domestically due to import restrictions. As another example, coffee farmers are forced to export coffee via marketing facilitators to earn the country foreign exchange. Yet, farmers would prefer to sell it in the domestic market where they could realize higher prices and better cover ever-growing living costs.

Yet, such phenomena, including the large disparity between the official and the parallel market exchange rate, are symptoms rather than causes of the existing problems. The bottom line is that increasing incomes stemming from Ethiopia鈥檚 strong economic growth have given way to growing import demand, which has hit the country鈥檚 balance-of-payments constraint. It is import substitution (for instance domestic renewable energy for fossil fuel imports) and export promotion that must do the job to improve the current account, ease foreign exchange shortage. Moreover, the country needs domestic investment, particularly in agriculture, to bring down food prices and overall inflation. This would correct the current wrong systemic incentives and move economic activity away from the parallel foreign exchange market.

What is wrong with the agreement?

In the IMF鈥檚 ideal world, the policy action agreed on in the deal will solve the problem: a floating exchange rate means that there is no parallel market anymore; austerity will stabilize prices. Both actions combined will restore international competitiveness because the market exchange rate will be such that imports and exports balance. Private investment will not be crowded out anymore by the government鈥檚 borrowing. Instead, it will prosper both domestically and via foreign direct investment (FDI), thus earning the country鈥檚 foreign exchange in the future and bringing it on a lasting growth path.

A lot is wrong with this optimistic projection. The most essential question is: how will the availability of foreign currency change as a result of the agreement鈥檚 implementation? The trade balance, on the one hand, may improve thanks to exchange rate depreciation but it is not clear how significant this effect is because exports (imports) are much more affected by changes in foreign (domestic) incomes than by changes in relative prices. Moreover, we are still to see how much relative prices even change once inflation goes up, thus undoing the nominal depreciation. On the other hand, the agreement has led to the , which is now increasing import demand. Income flows will lead to an additional loss of foreign exchange because foreign investors are now allowed to repatriate their profits more easily. It is doubtful that this can be counterbalanced by inflows from growing foreign investment itself. Other flows such as remittances and official development assistance, beyond international financial institutions鈥� bailout, will supposedly not change significantly. 鈥淪trengthening the financial position of state-owned enterprises鈥� essentially comes to privatization such as it has been announced for , meaning that the government is planning to sell out precious and strategic assets. This will yield short-term returns, including conditional finance from the World Bank, but a continued drain of foreign exchange from profit repatriation.

At the time of writing this text, the exchange rate has depreciated by about 100 percent. The NBE facilitates the floating regime by holding foreign exchange auctions with commercial banks to determine the rate. For the time being, this is quite a restricted foreign exchange market with the NBE as the key regulator by deciding on foreign exchange supply. Moreover, the current regulations still include some foreign exchange retention requirements and relatively tight capital account restrictions. Exchange rate floating thus only takes place within restrictions, which is why the parallel market is expected to stay in place since on the capital account side of the balance of payments, money is still trying to leave the country.

Taking stock of the economy鈥檚 expected structural change, it seems like in the short term there are additional foreign exchange losses whereas the additional inflows may or may not take place in the middle to long term. Immediate crisis is avoided by injections of foreign exchange from international financial institutions and, maybe, privatization returns. Overall, a larger share of foreign exchange trading may go through official channels than via the parallel market as compared to the previous situation, but a loss of foreign exchange is still a loss. It remains to be seen how far the Government of Ethiopia is willing to satisfy the IMF鈥檚 expectations once inflation has started increasing and foreign exchange shortage intensifies again once the additional liquidity that followed the IMF agreement is used up. That would be the opposite of the expected outcome.

If, in such a situation, the journey continues towards more liberalization to give the country more of the same medicine, the next step would be the removal of capital controls. Money currently being restricted from leaving the country could turn into a surge of capital flight, putting further pressure on the exchange rate and becoming self-enforcing. The NBE would have to use foreign exchange reserves to entertain capital flight. Inflation would shoot up from an already very high rate. In the worst case, balanced trade is not achieved via depreciation directly but indirectly due to collapsing import demand caused by a deep economic crisis. As the that the NBE 鈥渕ay have to take further policy action by raising interest rates to ensure inflation quickly returns to a downward path鈥�. To be less diplomatic, the NBE would have to increase its policy rate by an enormous amount in its fight against currency depreciation because the alternative policy instruments such as capital controls would have been removed. Given such a scenario, it is hard to imagine how private investment shall come in and bring the economy on a sustainable growth pattern, let alone the investment in key sectors to ensure food security, external balance, and internal structural change. There is still a window of opportunity for the Government of Ethiopia not to pursue this path to its end but to embrace more effective reforms.

The reforms needed

This critical view shall not deny that there is need for reform. The new that the NBE announced while the negotiations were still going on is a step in the right direction. So far, the monetary policy has been conducted in a rather monetarist way by targeting reserve growth, which constrained lending to productive and green investment. In contrast to the IMF鈥檚 misguided approach to monetary theory, this framework will and finance public investment to co-exist with private investment without any crowding-out. Public investment must play a key role to achieve the joint goals of domestic growth, price stability, poverty reduction, and a stable balance of payments. Austerity, high interest rates, and selling out public assets are the opposite of what is needed. Instead, regulation of the external account is necessary to maintain the Government鈥檚 policy space.

Moreover, while the real exchange rate may not be the most critical variable defining trade performance, it is clear that a fixed rate has led to real overvaluation after years of high inflation. Yet, this does not require a floating rate and the removal of capital controls. A (stepwise) devaluation can achieve the same goal. Likewise, increasing mobilization of government revenues is a welcome move if it takes poor households鈥� financial constraints into account. But again, this is a domestic issue that does not need financial liberalization.

It also must be admitted that Ethiopia needs FDI to facilitate technology transfer and increase the economy鈥檚 productivity. But this should not come with treating all capital flows the same way, irrespective of whether they contribute to long-term growth or are merely looking for short-term profits.

The coming months, and possibly years, including the continued debt restructuring negotiations with creditors, will show if the Government of Ethiopia is willing to maintain and improve the key parts of its successful development model. The alternative will be most likely be capital flight, austerity, and a tight constraint on long-term development.

Basil Oberholzer is Senior Associate Research Scientist at the Centre for Development and Environment, University of Bern, Switzerland. You can reach him at: basil.oberholzer@faculty.unibe.ch.

Photo: Addis Ababa. Rights reserved to DevEcon and the author

The default unit of analysis for many economists when dealing with national economics is the state. Yet, in economics textbooks 鈥榯he state鈥� is often assumed to be a neutral actor exogenous to economic processes. It is assumed to be the same 鈥� in essence – everywhere. This conception is based on a Eurocentric view of the state, which assumes all states are ahistorical Westphalian nation states based on Enlightenment principles. However, states are not neutral, but deeply shaped by historical processes. Analyses of 鈥榮tates鈥� in economics – country analyses, country data, evaluations of so-called 鈥榤acroeconomic fundamentals鈥� – must be rethought by taking the complexities of the state in Africa into account in their conceptualisations, analyses and policy proposals. In this piece, I unpack how the African state evolved as a colonial project and the implications of it being mischaracterized as neutral state.

A state like no other

The state in Africa has been mischaracterized as a neutral institution devoid of a problematic history which affects its present. In its simplest terms, the state is an institution of governing, i.e., a political organization whose main aim is to establish and maintain security, law and order within its geographic jurisdiction. In economics, the state is discussed and perceived as a one size-fit-all institution, one that is and must be similar in Europe, Asia, Africa, and the Americas. The African state, in particular, has been presented as if it is similar to other states, especially in Europe and the United States of America to which it must aspire.

Moreover, the African has been evaluated and judged on the basis of other perceived progressive states, especially those on the western hemisphere. That states are the same is both untrue, misleading, and ahistorical. African states are very different from other states as they are products of conquest, colonialism, genocides, epistemicides and slavery. It was created to support these processes and it still dispenses them mainly through violence. Those who colonised African countries did so not only to access markets and raw materials, but to displace epistemologies and decentre the colonized; and in the process they centered the colonising countries as the centre of knowledge production and essence of humanity. This is the origin of the superiority of liberal economics as the dominant way of understanding and doing economics in Africa.

Historicizing the state in Africa

The state in Africa is not an African state, but a colonial creation, one created for colonial purposes which it still pursues and fulfils today. The modern version of the state which still exists in Africa was founded in Europe, not in 1648 at the signing of the Treaty of Westphalia, but on 2 January 1492 at the conclusion of the Reconquista (Mamdani 2020). The Reconquista was the series of wars, epistemicides, and genocides perpetrated on the Iberian Peninsula predominantly on Moslems, Africans Jews, and women by the Spanish Crown. Started in 781, it concluded with fall of the Nasrid kingdom of Granada in 1492. The bifurcated results of the Reconquista which created the core and the periphery have remained the main way of organizing and recognizing states in international relations. This version of the state was violently imposed on Africa as part of the colonial processes together with its problems which it had failed to solve in Europe, which was mainly related to solving the problem of minorities.

The state, or should I say the Western model of the state, has been the only acceptable way of managing and organizing political life in this world. This ideal of  state was further cemented at the Treaty of Westphalia in 1648. The Treaty of Westphalia must be understood not as the birth of the modern state, but as a process that cemented the state through the norm of what became known as state sovereignty. However, in contrast, the significance of the Treaty of Westphalia for Africa is that it is the moment in history when sovereignty was usurped from the nation and appropriated by the colonial state. This led to formal colonization of Africa and the Global South which had started to happen a with the arrival of 500 Englishmen on Roanoke Island in 1584 thereby establishing the first English overseas colony in the Americas. This was a direct response by Protestant England to weaken Catholic Spain with whom they had been fighting for decades as part of the Reconquista. This formal colonization of the Global South  in 1648  is marked by  the occupation of Bahamas followed rapidly by the establishment of St Kitts and Nevis in 1660. The irony of the signing of the Treaty of Westphalia and the concomitant recognition of state sovereignty among Europeans is that while Europeans agreed never to fight each other again, they were to congregate, ironically in Berlin, in Germany, this time to agree to go and deny Africans their sovereignty by portioning and subsequently colonializing Africa.

Colonization of land, minds, and epistemology

The colonization process was therefore not simply the occupation of the land, but it was more importantly, the occupation of the African mind, the displacement of African knowledge and belief systems and replacing them with western ones. Once its epistemology and knowledge systems were replaced, Africa and Africans have been standing on shaky grounds (Nhemachena, Kangira, and Chiripanhura 2021). Shaky in every aspect of life: epistemologically, legally, religiously, ideologically, economically, politically, morally, etcetera. Nothing accounts for the continuous resilience of the colonial state in (post)colonial Africa more than the fact that the nationalists inherited it and continued to administer it albeit with some cosmetic non-structural changes.

This explains why what is termed as African economics today, for example, is basically western liberal economics and the same can be argued about the African legal systems which are basically Roman-Dutch law and English common law. Stated differently, Africans as a people live at least a double epistemology; a colonial western one and an indigenous African one. It is because of these shacky grounds that the state in Africa has been variously described as in states in perpetual infancy, failed states etc. If African states are still infant states; who are the parents responsible for it? If African states are failed states; who failed them and who won?

What is the colonial state in Africa?

Prior to European colonization, Africa had various forms of the state. These were all displaced and replaced with the European model of the state, which is characterized by four attributes: (1) paradigm of war, (2) paradigm of difference, (3) survival of the fittest and (4) will to power. The paradigm of war is characterised by logics of racial profiling, classification of human beings as inferior or superior, and hierarchization of human beings. Together with the paradigm of differences which is anchored on creating, amplifying and instrumentalising human differences, the paradigm of war enabled the denial of the humanity of black people, their enslavement, commodification and commercialisation, conquest, subjugation, colonisation, dispossession, exploitation (Ndlovu-Gatsheni 2015b). As the state in Africa was born out of war, it continues to be a very violent institution. Created to manage and subjugate the different and colonizable 鈥榦ther鈥�, the state retained its purpose when African states gained political independence.

I argue that by fighting for the control of the state, African nationalists were misguided as they were fighting for the control of a problematic institution, one which would continue to dispense its original purpose regardless of who was in charge. This explains why different forms of the state and statecraft continue to fail dismally in (post)colonial Africa. Secession failed in Eritrea and South Sudan, the monarchy is failing in eSwatini and Morocco, ethnic federalism is failing dismally in Ethiopia and so is tribal federalism in Nigeria. Long incumbency failed in Zimbabwe, Angola, Cameroon and Guinea while the rainbow nation of South Africa is witnessing a rise in unemployment, poverty and inequality never seen before. The passing of power from father to son failed in Togo with the Ayademas who ruled the country five times, for 48 years. Africa has had seven countries being ruled by a father and son (and one brother) combination. These are Botswana (Khamas), Kenya (Kenyattas), the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) (Kabilas), Gabon (Bongos), Togo (Ayademas), Mauritius (Ramgoolams), and Malawi (Mutharika). The colonial state succeeds so spectacularly from the perspective of the coloniser because it is founded on and efficaciously employs the paradigms of war and difference, and thrives on the doctrines survival of the fittest and the will to power.

Elsewhere in Somalia, clan-based statecraft has resulted in numerous clashes with many splinter conflicts such the intergenerational conflict (al Shabab), central government versus regional governments, British Somalia versus Italian Somalia versus French Somalia etc. Surely, the colonial state is the problem in Africa. 

The resilience of the colonial state in Africa

During the various anti-colonial struggles, the nationalists were fighting for the control of the state, which was a toxic and oppressive institution from the beginning. Anticolonial efforts at worldmaking sought to establish a world of what’s Getachew termed 鈥渘ondomination” (Getachew 2019). Thus, worldmaking is a more viable option because national independence in a hierarchical world order is ineffective, a concept referred to as coloniality (the continued asymmetrical power relations between the (former) colonisers and the (former) colonised long after the end of official colonialism).

When in possession of the state, the African nationalists were faced with three options at independence: (1) to completely abandon this colonial creation and start something new, (2) go back to the pre-colonial forms of the state forms and continue with those albeit with some modification or (3) continue with the colonial form of the state hoping to change it as they go (Nzongola-Ntalaja 1985). Most (post)colonial nationalist governments in Africa opted for the third option, needless to mention that thus far, the many problems in Africa are symptomatic of the failure of the nationalist project to turn the colonial state into a national asset. The nationalists struggled to counterbalance globality, to borrow from Getachew.

Implications for institutions beyond the state

Once the colonial model of the state was imposed on Africa and other colonies, the following institutions were then imported and remain effective: (1) the capitalist world economy, (2) the post-1945 United Nations sovereignty state system, (3) Euro-North American-centric world culture and European languages, (4) a Euro-North American-centric moral order dominated by Christian thought and (5) the Euro North America legal system dominated by Roman Dutch law (Ndlovu-Gatsheni 2015a:485鈥�86).

There are numerous reasons why the state is not working in Africa. The state is comprised of many nations most of which are found in different states. In resisting and contesting colonial borders, many nations which find themselves in different states have asserted that, 鈥榯he border found us here鈥� (Benyera 2019). This makes both state making and nation building very complicated. The state also remained structurally, epistemically and operationally western-centric. Key state institutions such as the judiciary remain structurally unchanged especially its legal logic and jurisprudence.

Economically, the (post) colonial States remained extractive, extroverted and most importantly anti-black. Instead of being a vehicle for redressing historical harms such as slave trade, colonialism, and apartheid, the state, on the contrary predominantly perpetuates the status quo. South Africa’s famed constitution contains chapter 25 which is by no mistake but by design the longest in the constitution. It also took the longest time to negotiate. This chapter contains the contentious issue of private property which effectively allowed apartheid beneficiaries and victims to roll over their ill-gotten wealth and poverty respectively into the post-apartheid era.  Working in tandem, the state and the constitution managed to validate and exonerate colonial and apartheid crimes, especially the theft of land. The two effectively ensured that the structure of colonial apartheid remained intact in the supposed new democratic dispensation. #

Everisto Benyera is Professor of African Politics at the University of South Africa.

This blog post is a part of the听Decolonising Economics blog series.

References

Benyera, Everisto. 2019. 鈥淎frican Borders and the Coloniality of Human Movement.鈥� Pp. 29鈥�45 in African Borders, Conflict, Regional and Continental Integration, edited by I. Moyo and C. C. Nshimbi. London: Routledge.

Getachew, Adom. 2019. Worldmaking after Empire: The Rise and Fall of Self-Determination. Princeton and Oxford: Princeton University Press.

Mamdani, Mahmood. 2020. Neither Settler nor Native the Making and Unmaking of Permanent Minorities. Cambridge and London: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press.

Ndlovu-Gatsheni, Sabelo. 2015a. 鈥淒ecoloniality as the Future of Africa.鈥� History Compass 13(10):485鈥�96.

Ndlovu-Gatsheni, Sabelo. 2015b. 鈥淭he Decolonial Mandela: Embodiment of Peace, Justice, and Humanism.鈥� Journal of Developing Societies 31(3):305鈥�32.

Nhemachena, Artwell, Jairos Kangira, and Bornway Chiripanhura. 2021. 鈥�#HumansMustFall Movements and the Future of African Liberation without African Liberation Movements: A Decolonial Introduction.鈥� Pp. 1鈥�48 in From #RhodesMustFall Movements to #HumansMustFall Movements: African Liberation Movements in the Age of the Transhumanist Geographies of Death, edited by A. Nhemachena, J. Kangira, and B. M. Chiripanhura. Bamenda: Langaa RPCIG.

Nzongola-Ntalaja, Georges. 1985. 鈥淭he National Question and the Question of the Crisis of Instability in Africa.鈥� Alternatives 26:533鈥�63.

In 2009, I was interested in studying the phenomenon of M-Pesa as a legal scholar鈥攋ust a year after its launch and intense rollout. My standpoint enabled me to see the initial regulatory paradoxes that M-Pesa presented. In 2010, I began my PhD, exploring what a regulatory framework should look like. My analysis focused on the complexities presented by the storage and transfer of customer funds within mobile money systems. Central to were themes of financial regulation, consumer rights, financial stability, conceptualising 鈥榝inancial inclusion鈥�, and the meaning of 鈥榖anking the unbanked鈥�. At the time, the study was significant, in understanding the contractual tensions between mobile money users and Safaricom, a non-bank entity, which provided services akin to a traditional bank鈥檚 deposit system鈥攜et did not appear to be subject to the same regulatory restraints as conventional banks. Crucially, banks and financial institutions had historically dominated much of the financial system, through practices due to colonialism. Therefore, M-Pesa caused much upheaval to established banks, but simultaneously provided hope for the excluded. Various actors extended this new hope, in the 鈥榮uccess鈥� narrative of M-Pesa. Its beneficial use as a storage and transfer system was extolled as , and the restatement of its trajectory was and continues to be modelled across the developing world. The global development and digitalisation agenda have subsumed M-Pesa鈥檚 pervasive influence, both valorising the pathways to 鈥榙evelopment鈥� and 鈥榠nnovation鈥� through FinTech with a singular aim of 鈥榝inancial inclusion.鈥�

As a result, Kenya has become the site of contestation for overwhelming empirical research, interest, and knowledge production, particularly by Western scholars and institutions. A 鈥榞old rush鈥� has emerged, and the scramble for knowledge extraction has intensified across academic disciplines and across methodologies. Studies from Ghana, Senegal and Kenya dominate. The study of 鈥榙evelopment鈥� in all its iterations has gained a new development. However, much of the ways in which mobile money (M-Pesa) and FinTech are discussed and framed demonstrates a Western understanding of the everyday lives of the Kenyans who use it. Scholars, activists, and proponents often situate the premise of its use as being between two paradigms: advancing through the enhancement of global development aims, and its function as a tool that includes Kenyans in extractive cycles of financialisation. Both of these are true.

Despite this, I proffer that Kenyans have built M-Pesa into the bespoke mobile money platform it is today. By built, I mean the socio-technical relations created through its use鈥攖he ingenious ways in which Kenyans have consumed, negotiated, and adapted to it, weaving between and within the formal and informal. They have combined the analogue and digital, representing the ways in which people on the financial frontier live.  However, the voices of the people within the platforms are often excluded in the discourse in research and industry: the collective agency, advocacy for rights, and the grassroots struggle in challenging existing exploitive capitalist conditions and mutually co-constitutive structures, amidst the subjectification from 鈥榓bove鈥� through foreign actors and 鈥榳ithin鈥� through the state in the digital age. Therefore, this piece asks how might the voices of the people be centred as decolonising Fintech narratives?

How the people experience digitalisation

Much of the intellectual inquiry into Africa begins from a presumption that the only exciting research is that of failing structures, markets, governments, and systems. The only versions of Africa worth reading about are poor, violent, sickly, and hungry鈥攁nd often these versions are seen through the altruism of international organisations and governments. The persistent assumption that Africa needs Western perspectives to understand itself is deeply problematic. The narrative is that, in Africa, nothing succeeds out of its own merit without centring . This framing is true in many ways, as the emergence of the Kenyan colony alongside the construction of the railway destined for Uganda dispossessed Africans of their ancestral lands, propelling them into commercial farming and wage labour, while sowing divisions among ethnic groups. This dispossession introduced shifts in cultural identities through the diffusion of Christianity and the English language. The digital line embodies a new dimension of this transformation into a new digital coloniality (Coleman 2019). As the railway was a tangible emblem of imperial domination, the digital line serves as a symbol of its legacy. It exerts a gravitational pull on the past, compelling it to align with a singular (imperial) vision of the future. This digital paradigm shift, like the railway鈥檚 historical impact, is not uniform in its effects: it has complex consequences for Kenyans.

From M-Pesa to Uber, how Kenyans live their lives is mediated through platforms and digital infrastructures: financial services, transport , public health, and . As with the railway lines, digital lines are transposing the same paradigm of where economic and political centres are and continue to be concentrated鈥攁nd the concentration lies with a few. They are shifting labour, democracy, power, and creativity, as well as leading to socio-spatial inequalities, remaking citizenship, identity and the State.

Similarly, the intertwining of Africa鈥檚 neoliberal economic restructuring and China鈥檚 demand for African resources is another source of 鈥� narratives. High global commodity prices, particularly for oil, prompted a search for new sources of raw materials, boosting African GDP and investment. However, Africa鈥檚 investor-friendly policies鈥攄ue to privatisation (a product of strictures of Structural Adjustment Programs) and deregulation, as well as China鈥檚 economic liberalisation and its pursuit of African resources to fuel its own rapid expansion鈥攈ave shaped this growth. China has become Africa鈥檚 top trading ally, and the export of African raw materials has dramatically increased. In the first decade of the 2000s, Africa鈥檚 growth rate outpaced that of East Asia. However, this new scramble has spilled over to militarised competition for resources. Africa has 鈥榬isen鈥� for but for global capital, yet wealth is still concentrated and not distributed.

In Kenya, the 鈥榯he Silicon Savannah鈥� moniker obfuscates these complexities. The name is framed towards a Eurocentric understanding, reifying the notion that Kenya can neither exist on its own merit, nor deploy its own agency, and must always be in comparison to an established 鈥榮uper鈥� power. It is often as if Africa must be viewed through the lens of the West to explain itself. It is within this frame, particularly in the digital age, that asks, 鈥榃hat changes when we start with people rather than the structures? There is agency. There is creativity, there is negotiation鈥�.  I would add that there is also resistance.

Countries in Africa are doing much more than just surviving. Resistance is infused in these narratives. It is represented in our everyday lives: the ethical dilemmas that ensue from and .

Kenyans understand that the development (Kopf 2021) was and continues to be about creating an infrastructure that primes the capacity of the 鈥榚lite鈥� class to accumulate and smooth away those inefficiencies that hamper the capacity of global capital to continue exploitation. Sold as public goods, but always private gains鈥攑ost-colonial nation building involves mega infrastructures intertwined with commercialization. To illustrate, M-Pesa鈥檚 founding demonstrates the political capture that allowed its (continued) flourishing. Additionally, the serves as an example of where the inserted itself into the nascent technology scene, leveraging Kenya as a stronghold of global capital. The State has displayed an unwavering commitment to attracting foreign investment, even at the expense of inadequately enforced labour laws that fail to protect workers鈥� rights. These situations have profound implications for the lives of the new class of gig economy workers, and through this priming, the law remains silent, enabling an environment for abuse.

Furthermore, many business models (such as Sama, Meta/Facebook, , and Uber) depend heavily on such an environment: one that sustains precarious work conditions, algorithmic control over workers, and deliberate violations of local labour laws. Kenyans have sought against such companies over redundancies, working conditions, and . Workers in Kenya assert their control by understanding their , both in the services they provide and data extraction. Similarly, M-Pesa鈥檚 initial adoption in 2007 was premised on the proposal, which exploited the norm of making frequent remittances through familial social networks. This layered onto the spatiality occasioned by colonialism, redistributing households blurring the formal and informal. Since then, Safaricom has asserted its dominance, providing a critical digital financial infrastructure relied upon during crises鈥攂e they contentious elections, disasters, or emergencies. They have built infrastructural intimacies, difficult to disentangle. Morphing product offerings, consolidating functions beyond telecommunications, Safaricom has further entrenched itself into savings and , creating predatory overdraft products, and inviting for fraud and other criminal opportunities鈥攁ll the while, enjoying regulatory protection from the State. Kenyans, and Africans more broadly recognise that the prevailing economic landscape is oriented towards commodities rather than technology. The continent is underpinned by existing infrastructural deficits, precluding technology-centric market development. Consequently, the most successful technological innovations in these regions are those that directly enhance the fundamental aspects of trade. This is exemplified by the predominance of FinTech solutions, particularly payment systems, which serve as critical enablers of basic commercial transactions, thereby reflecting the intersection of technology with the primary market dynamics of the region. 

Africa is not a lab (for 鈥榬esearch鈥� extraction)

Further, a significant portion of the existing research on FinTech and digital finance in Africa is predominantly by Global North researchers鈥攕upposedly focused on 鈥楢frica鈥�, but mainly discussing Kenya, Nigeria, or South Africa. Discussions on technology diffusion in Europe or North America normally focus on a single country, as places to be understood on their terms. This is never a consideration when talking about Africa. The dangers of a single oversimplified 鈥楢frican鈥� story persist, essentialising the African experience. The idea of having 鈥楩inTech in Africa鈥� editorials, collapsing 54 states into one single volume is peculiar. These clusterings are often devoid of intricacies and understanding; small samples are enough to generate findings and claims of regional expertise, mostly by Global North researchers. Regional variations are ignored, and geopolitics and social / cultural factors that shape socio-economic and political dynamics are overlooked. Africans can spot the flaws: a misspelled local name, a misinterpreted phenomenon. When discussing African countries, states are either often absent, or victims of circumstances beyond their control. When scholars go to Africa, they are looking for very good data into which they can impart their Western theories and ideologies. Such research portrays passive recipients of seemingly benign digital interventions or innovations: fodder for research. Life happens to Africans, who are not shaped or guided by their imaginations. These methodologies often oversimplify and homogenise Africa as a single entity.

There are certainly power differentials in researching FinTech that reify these narratives. For instance, Western expertise is perceived as objective or neutral, as they study and extract for themselves. Drawing epistemic lines, as Pereira (2014) stated, 鈥榯he modern foreign鈥�, Roy (2023) confirms, 鈥榩lays a key role, in strengthening claims and legitimacies locally, even as it reproduces the hegemony of Western theorisations and limits the flourishing of local knowledge against the framework of colonial logics and neoliberal demands鈥�. Kenyans are acutely aware of being researched in this sense鈥攍ike gig workers, producing dual value by both being the subjects of research and the producers of data for Western scholarship. Kenyans understand that their knowledge and tacit expertise have been expropriated by various stakeholders and 鈥榚xperts鈥欌�攎inimised, invisibilised, in support of Global North academics. In addition, the elite capture of FinTech expertise, subsumed by those who want to advance their careers with this 鈥榥ew鈥� development鈥攁ll while reproducing the power imbalances they seek to research, enabling epistemic injustice.

鈥楢frican鈥� research is relegated, subordinated, precarious鈥攖he voices of Kenyans forced to capitulate to becoming research assistants only, never leading the research. Similarly, Angela (2021) traces the rise of a 鈥榥ew鈥� idealised persona within Kenya鈥檚 research landscape, by examining how Kenya鈥檚 鈥楾echpreneur鈥� has been shaped by imperial logic that persists in seemingly autonomous ventures. Global capital and transnational geopolitics play out within Kenya, where the researchers are also the researched鈥攂ut this construction of the Kenyan Techpreneur is an extension of the apparatus that drives and crafts the African into an entrepreneur as a form of social security, abdicating the State from its duties (Elyachar 2005) The ways in which Africans are moulded into productive economic agents鈥攊n this case constructing the 鈥楩inTechpreneur鈥欌�攁re barely addressed, despite them being a heuristic device for researchers to gain a deeper understanding.

What space exists for the African scholar 鈥榯rapped in an existential dialectic of correcting misrepresentations of Western scholars on the flawed assumption that this advances the decolonisation agenda鈥� (Serenkuma 2024)? How can we challenge these narratives, and critically assess the knowledge produced about Africa鈥攁nd in this case Kenya鈥攚hile acknowledging its complex and diverse history, rather than solely viewing it as a site of trauma, and recast it in our own terms? What counter-narratives are there of pain and sympathy, as well as things we traditionally understand as the global neo-colonial capitalist encounter? What frameworks exist to shape how we produce knowledge regarding politics, strife and struggles related to ethnicity, gender, and class in digital 鈥楢frica鈥�, or even Kenya? How do these discussions navigate power dynamics, and manifest forms of resistance, when talking about digital finance in Africa?

As asks, 鈥榃hy don鈥檛 you research Africa with her people? Why don鈥檛 you ask them what Africa they want to research?鈥�

is a legal scholar based at Warwick Law School, University of Warwick. Her scholarship considers financial systems and practices that enable people to flourish despite marginality and global limits.

Image: By Sara Mehrgut

This post is part of the mini-blog series Decolonising for Whom? Recentring grassroots struggles and voices in the 鈥榙ecolonising fintech鈥� narrative and the ongoing blog series Decolonizing Economics.

References

Coleman, Danielle, 鈥楧igital Colonialism: The 21st Century Scramble for Africa through the Extraction and Control of User Data and the Limitations of Data Protection Laws鈥� (2019) 24 Mich J Race & L 417.

Wainaina, Binyavanga, 鈥極ne Day I Will Write About This Place鈥� (2011) London: Granta.

Fleming, P, 鈥楾he Human Capital Hoax: Work, Debt and Insecurity in the Era of Uberization鈥� (2017) 38 Organization Studies 691

Kessi, Shose, Marks, Zoe, & Ramugondo, Elelwani, 鈥楧ecolonizing African Studies鈥� (2020) 12:3 Critical African Studies 271

Martina Kopf (2021): Binyavanga Wainaina鈥檚 Narrative of the IMF-generation as Development Critique, Journal of African Cultural Studies

Mama, A, 鈥業s It Ethical to Study Africa? Preliminary Thoughts on Scholarship and Freedom鈥� (2007) 50(1) African Studies Review 1

Malala, J.(2017). Law and Regulation of Mobile Payment Systems: Issues arising 鈥榩ost鈥檉inancial inclusion in Kenya. Routledge.

Mbembe, A, 鈥楩uture Knowledges and their implications for the decolonisation project. The politics of knowledge鈥� (2019).

Natile, S, 鈥楧igital Finance Inclusion and the Mobile Money 鈥淪ocial鈥� Enterprise: A Socio-Legal Critique of M-Pesa in Kenya鈥� (2020) 45(3) Historical Social Research / Historische Sozialforschung 74

Ndlovu-Gatsheni, Sabelo J, 鈥業ntellectual imperialism and decolonisation in African studies鈥� (2023) Third World Quarterly.

Ndlovu-Gatsheni, SJ, Seesemann, R, & Vogt-William, C, 鈥楢frican studies in distress: German scholarship on Africa and the neglected challenge of decoloniality鈥� (2022) 57(1) Africa Spectrum 83.

Okune, A, 鈥楶ostcolonial Objectivity: Reaching for Decolonial Knowledge Making in Nairobi鈥� (2021).

Pereira, Maria do Mar, 鈥楾he Importance of Being 鈥淢odern鈥� and Foreign: Feminist Scholarship and the Epistemic Status of Nations鈥� (2014) 39(3) Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society 627.

Prah, KK, 鈥樷�淗as Rhodes Fallen? Decolonizing the Humanities in Africa and Constructing Intellectual Sovereignty鈥濃�� In Unpublished Academy of Science of South Africa (ASSAF) Inaugural Humanities Lecture, HSRC, Pretoria, October 20 (2016).

Roy, Srila, 鈥楩rom travel to arrival鈥� in The Routledge Companion to Intersectionalities (Routledge 2023).

Serunkuma, YK, 鈥楧ecolonial Dilemmas: The Deception of a 鈥淕lobal Knowledge Commonwealth鈥� and the Tragedian Entrapment of an African Scholar鈥� (2024) Africa Spectrum

Van Doorn, N and Badger, A, 鈥楶latform Capitalism鈥檚 Hidden Abode: Producing Data Assets in the Gig Economy鈥� [2020] 52(5) Antipode 1475鈥�1495

By Adrian Wilson, Faith Kasina, Irene Nduta and Jethron Ayumbah Akallah

In August 2020, people all over the development world   about water in Nairobi. There was a lot of anger, and some calls for sending people to the guillotine. The reason: the publication of  (RCT), run by two American development economists, working together with the World Bank. In order to compel property owners in Kayole-Soweto鈥攁 relatively poor neighborhood in eastern Nairobi鈥攖o pay their water bills, this experiment disconnected the water supply at randomly selected low-income rental properties.

There鈥檚 no doubt that water is a problem in Nairobi. As Elizabeth Wamuchiru , the water system in the city has a built-in spatial inequality inherited from the British colonial era. Visitors to the city can readily see the differences between the cool, leafy, green neighborhoods of Kilimani and Lavington鈥攕egregated white neighborhoods under colonialism, now home to rich Kenyans, foreigners, and NGOs鈥攁nd the gray and dusty tin-roof neighborhoods of Mathare, Kibera, Mukuru, and Kayole, home to the lower-income Kenyans excluded from Nairobi鈥檚 prosperity.

Today鈥檚 water system reflects this history of inequality. Nairobi鈥檚 water is harnessed from a combination of surface and groundwater sources; however, the city鈥檚 groundwater is naturally salty and . Piped water systems, provided to upper- and middle-income housing estates, do not exist in the vast bulk of the city鈥檚 poorer neighborhoods, where people must instead buy water from vendors鈥攐ften salty water pumped from boreholes, or siphoned off from city pipes through rickety connections that are frequently contaminated with sewage. In the richer neighborhoods, Nairobi Water Company, a public utility, sells relatively clean piped surface water for a fraction of the price paid by poorer Nairobians鈥攁 disparity that  to often be the case in other cities in the global South. , in poorer neighborhoods such as Kayole-Soweto, 鈥渨ater provision costs more, is less safe, and is less consistent than in other richer parts of the city.鈥�

Nairobi鈥檚 waterscape has remained opaque to its planners and administrators as well as its residents鈥攂oth the elite that occupy the planned leafy suburbs of the city, and the urban underclass that lives on the fringes in a perennial survival mode. And while the city has witnessed major developments to improve access and quality of water, some approaches have only ended up reinforcing the economic inequalities in Nairobi鈥檚 waterscape. Such developments have often entailed technologies that are inappropriate for the context, 鈥渃ut and paste鈥� approaches to solving global South problems, and, in many cases, financing models that are covertly anti-poor.

The World Bank鈥檚 water project in Kayole-Soweto was a great example of these problems. Between 2016 and 2018, the World Bank and Nairobi Water Company  to build piped water and sewage connections in Kayole-Soweto among several other lower-income neighborhoods in Nairobi.

The project design was driven by the kind of 鈥渘eoliberalism lite鈥� that characterizes the Millenium Development Goals-era World Bank. The project鈥檚 water connections would be paid for only in part by World Bank grants. The rest of the cost would be borne by users, who would take out loans of $315 USD per connection, payable over five years at an interest rate of 19%. Each property would get a single connection, with a water tap and a flushing toilet. Under a  (鈥渞ead your own meter鈥�), water meters would be digital, and billing payment can be made digitally via mobile phone. The project was framed as a 鈥渕agic bullet鈥� that not only embraced the supposed advantages of digitized systems, but also provided a financial model purportedly tailored to the needs of the poor of Kayole-Soweto.

As people in Kayole-Soweto told us, the project was plagued with problems right from the onset (some of these problems are even described in the World Bank鈥檚 own ). The water supply pipes were supposed to be buried several meters under the streets, but instead were scarcely buried below the surface of Soweto鈥檚 dirt roads, often allowing sewage to leak into the pipes. The sewage piping, which World Bank officials told community members would be eight inches in diameter, was instead four inches, thus resulting in constant blockages. No one was sure why implementation wasn鈥檛 done to the standard promised, but corruption was widely suspected.

And, people told us, when trying to pay back their water connection loans, they found Nairobi Water Company鈥檚 billing and payment systems to be opaque at best and criminal at worst. One man told us: 鈥淚 went and paid, but after paying it鈥� I followed up on that payment, and鈥� I was told that I haven鈥檛 paid this money. And I went back [and] I paid for it again. And that鈥檚 how I lost [Ksh] 4,900鈥� (about $42 USD). Receipts are nonexistent; statements are nonexistent; people pay, and their money often simply disappears.

And while continuing to largely meet demand in the wealthier neighborhoods, Nairobi Water Company has resorted to what it calls 鈥渕icro-rationing鈥� in Kayole-Soweto. Water is typically only piped in one day per week, for a few hours at a time. People will hurry to fill jerrycans of water for the week during these few hours鈥攁nd if they鈥檙e at work when the water comes, then they鈥檙e out of luck. Often, Nairobi Water Company will pipe in salty borehole water instead of the clean water that residents were promised they鈥檇 receive. And, for many customers, water has stopped flowing entirely, for weeks, months, or even years at a time, with no explanation. But even in such cases, Nairobi Water Company still insists that people make payments on their water connection loans鈥攑aying down their debt for a connection that provides them with no water. 鈥�Unalipia hewa,鈥� one man told us鈥斺�測ou pay for air.鈥�

The RCT: adding insult to injury

In 2018, two American development economists,  and , started a randomized controlled trial (RCT) aimed at 鈥渋mproving revenue collection efficiency鈥� on the debt that property owners owed on these water connection loans in Kayole-Soweto. Their argument: the problem with water supply in Kayole-Soweto isn鈥檛 any of the problems that we described above. The problem is simply that property owners aren鈥檛 paying their water bills, thus undermining Nairobi Water Company鈥檚 revenue and preventing them from supplying water. (Our finding was the exact reverse: many people stopped making payments on their connection loans out of frustration at water that flowed only a few hours one day per week, if at all.)

In order to test a punitive method for fixing this problem, these two economists turned to an RCT. , a popular method in development economics for the last two decades, is used to test a development intervention by (1) randomly dividing people into 鈥渢reatment鈥� and 鈥渃ontrol鈥� groups; (2) giving some 鈥渢reatment鈥� to the first group, while withholding it from the second; and (3) measuring the difference in outcomes. While pioneers of the method were  in 2019, critics are wary of the idea of development economists experimenting on the poor.

In this case, the economists, working with Nairobi Water Company and the World Bank, identified customers who were behind on their water connection loan payments, divided these randomly into treatment and control groups, and disconnected the water at treatment properties, but not at control properties. They found that disconnecting people鈥檚 water had a large positive impact on repayment rates (as one person put it during the Twitter controversy: 鈥溾��). This is rigorous proof, they argue, that water disconnections can help improve a water utility鈥檚 revenue enforcement. The authors of this experiment don鈥檛 mention the myriad problems with Nairobi Water Company or with Nairobi鈥檚 water system more generally.

Now, let鈥檚 unpack this a bit. This experiment would have been ethically dubious in a context in which water service was working perfectly. This experiment is that much more ethically bankrupt in a context in which the water system is as woefully dysfunctional as it is in Kayole-Soweto. Just to give one example of the ethical acrobatics : research guidelines in the US, where both of these development economists hold professorships, dictate that research subjects are supposed to consent to participation in any research, let alone an experiment. The authors tell us that tenants whose water was disconnected had in effect pre-consented to disconnection by the fact of having signed a contract to get the water connection loan in which it is written that your water will be disconnected if you fail to pay. This very 鈥渢hin鈥� understanding of consent ignores the question of obtaining consent to participate in the experiment鈥攁nd it also doesn鈥檛 apply to the tenants living at these properties, who never signed any such contract, and who also lost their water.

We told several property owners whose water was shut off during the experiment that the economists who ran this experiment said in their publication that the experiment didn鈥檛 cause any harm to these research subjects. (It鈥檚 important to note that most of these property owners aren鈥檛 rich鈥攎ost of the property owners we talked to live in a slightly nicer unit alongside their tenants.) Matthew, a property owner we interviewed, told us how, when his property鈥檚 water was disconnected, several people living at his property鈥攁 disabled woman, as well his own 95-year-old grandmother鈥攚ere forced into the indignity of defecating in basins, which his wife would dump in the Ngong River. Another property owner, Kelvin, told us simply, 鈥淲e don鈥檛 have water and water is life. So, how can you say it doesn鈥檛 harm anyone, how, how?鈥�

What can we learn from this?

Water in Nairobi is horribly unequal. Into this unjust context came, first, the World Bank, with a neoliberal project plan emphasizing 鈥渃ost-sharing,鈥� and with a naive and misplaced trust in the ability of Nairobi Water Company to carry out this project fairly; and, second, two development economists, who were willing to treat poor Sowetans like guinea pigs, and who simply took Nairobi Water Company at their word when the company said that the only problem with water in Kayole-Soweto was that people weren鈥檛 paying their bills. Were these just scare tactics to squeeze residents into paying for a service they deemed unreliable? Was this a question of the ugly side of a capitalist market model that is insensitive to the plight of the poor and continues to disinherit them of their right to the city?

The World Bank has, since 2000, stepped back from the stringent structural adjustment plans that the Bank imposed on one African nation after another in the 1980s and 1990s. They now tend to focus their energies on projects like this one, often , and often focused on enhancing state capacity to fill its citizens鈥� basic needs. But the neoliberal ideology, while toned down, is still there: the Bank鈥檚 insistence that users pay a large share of the water connection cost, via a private bank loan, is characteristic of this new and more subtle neoliberalism.

In relation to experimentation, and development RCTs, there鈥檚 something scary about the degree of power that Western academics can exercise over poor people in places like Kayole-Soweto. To be clear, we aren鈥檛 saying that this experiment is typical of development RCTs. In our research, we found this water disconnection RCT to be a very extreme example; most RCTs are conducted with fairly or even very good ethical practices. What this experiment shows, though, is that if a foreign researcher wants to carry out an unethical RCT in a place like Kenya, they can. Existing ethical safeguards are obviously not working.

In finding a way forward for the World Bank鈥檚 water project in Kayole-Soweto, we must defer to the demands of the Sowetans we met and interviewed. Repeatedly, they told us that they were very willing to pay for water鈥攊f that water service worked, and worked consistently. They told us that they wanted the World Bank to return to the community, to hold meetings with community members, and, with their input, to rebuild the water and sewage infrastructure in Kayole-Soweto to a proper standard. We believe that the World Bank owes this to the people of Kayole-Soweto.

As for the economists and others running RCTs in Kenya, the existing system of ethical safeguards clearly failed the people of Kayole-Soweto. We will set aside  that experiments conducted by global North researchers on poor people in the global South should not happen at all. The fallout from this experiment has led to  to the research approval, funding, and publication processes, in order to ensure that ethical principles are actually followed. Echoing these suggestions, we would encourage actors in this research space to introduce mechanisms to ensure that safeguards are not optional but rather mandatory. And we believe that there should be an ethical mandate of genuine 鈥渆quipoise鈥� in development RCTs: researchers should be genuinely uncertain whether the 鈥渢reatment鈥� or the 鈥渃ontrol鈥� is better for the research subjects. (In the experiment in Kayole-Soweto, that was obviously not the case.)

Finally, the Nairobi County government is  that could privatize Nairobi Water Company. We believe that privatization is not the solution for water in Nairobi. In the Kenyan health care system, for example, we have consistently learned that . Past examples of water privatization鈥� and, closer to home, 鈥攅nded in complete failure. We strongly believe that reform and democratized governance鈥攏ot privatization鈥攐f Nairobi Water Company should be part of the way forward. And in the context of the ongoing , we believe strongly that a privatized water company will be that much less likely to ensure that water is affordable (if not free) for even the poorest Nairobians. Water justice, as enshrined in Kenya鈥檚 2010 constitution, must be made a reality for poor people living in precarious urban neighborhoods like Kayole-Soweto. We echo the words of Mathare Social Justice Center: .

This account is based on ethnographic research that Adrian Wilson, Irene Nduta, and Somo Abdi conducted in Kayole Soweto, Nairobi, in 2022.

Adrian Wilson is a PhD candidate in anthropology at the University of California at Berkeley.

Faith Kasina is a community activist with the Kayole Community Justice Centre.

Irene Nduta is a community activist with the Kayole Community Justice Centre.

Jethron Ayumbah Akallah is听a lecturer in the Department of History and Archaeology at Maseno University.

This article was first published on .

In the 1960s, newly independent African governments asserted sovereignty over their metal and mineral resources, in a reversal of their prior colonial exploitation by European mining corporations. In this excerpt from his new book , Ben Radley shows how transnational corporations have once again become the dominant force assuming ownership and management of industrial mining projects. Radley argues this latest reversal has taken place through a three-stage process grounded in a misguided reading of African economic stagnation from the mid-1970s onwards. Recent mining code revisions in several countries have been heralded by some as marking a new era of resource nationalism. Yet the new codes remain a far cry from the earlier period of resource sovereignty. The first three chapters of the book can be downloaded for free .

Stage one: Blame the African state

The first wave of political independence in Africa, beginning in the mid-1950s, ushered in a period of resource sovereignty, including the pursuit of African socialism in several countries. This was based on the recognition that during the colonial period, Africa鈥檚 natural resources had been exploited by European mining corporations to the benefit of the colonizing countries. For these resources to serve the interest of African countries, economies, and peoples, it was held that external control and ownership had to be reduced. Buoyed by the long commodity boom of the 1950s, and the spirit of events such as the 1955 Bandung Conference and the 1958 All African People鈥檚 Conference, there was a general commitment by newly independent African governments to wrest the control and management of their natural resource wealth back from the hands of their former colonizers.

In the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), the first step was taken under the presidency of Joseph-D茅sir茅 Mobutu with the Bakajika Law of June 1966. This law was an explicit attack on the contentious 1960 Belgian law giving colonial Congolese corporations Belgian nationality just a few weeks before Independence. It required all foreign-based companies whose main activities were in the DRC to establish their headquarters in the DRC by the end of the year.

The government failed to reach an agreement on the nationality of the largest, Belgian-owned colonial mining subsidiary, Union mini猫re de Haut Katanga. So, on 31 December 1966, the Mobutu administration announced its decision to expropriate the firm and transfer its assets to a new company, Soci茅t茅 g茅n茅rale Congolaise des minerais (G茅camines), which was to eventually become 100 per cent state-owned. The policy of increasing state participation in the productive economy continued in other sectors. By 1970, the Congolese public sector controlled 40 per cent of national value added.

Efforts elsewhere were similarly ambitious, such as Kenneth Kaunda鈥檚 Zambian-led initiative of the Intergovernmental Council of Copper Exporting Countries (CIPEC) and Julius Nyerere鈥檚 nationalist ban on extractives, 鈥樷��. Early results were impressive. In the DRC and Zambia, copper production increased steadily between 1960 and 1974鈥攁cross the inaugural years of CIPEC鈥攆rom around 300,000 to 500,000 tonnes and 500,000 to 700,000 tonnes, respectively.

In the DRC, greater sovereign control of value added contributed to a tripling of state revenue from $190 million in 1967 to $630 million in 1970, based in part on a 50 percent profit tax in the mining sector. A national health system numbering 500,000 employees was established, seen as a model for primary health care in the global South. The education system was nationalized, achieving 92 per cent primary school enrolment and increased access to the secondary and tertiary sectors.

The period culminated in May 1974 with the United Nations adoption of a Declaration and Programme of Action on the Establishment of a New International Economic Order. This declaration and programme 鈥樷��. Rather than usher in a new international economic order, however, the period during which this declaration was signed was to prove a stark reminder of the solidity of the old order.

The declaration was inaugurated at a time when the oil price was beginning to rise and demand for African exports beginning to diminish due to recession in the global North, leading to a decrease in commodity prices. In the DRC and Zambia, the copper price crashed from $1.40 per pound in April 1974 to $0.53 per pound in early 1975 and stagnated thereafter. Around the same time, from 1973 to 1977, the cost of oil imports quadrupled. Coupled with rising inflation globally during this period, the effect of these price shifts on government revenue would have been even greater in real terms. In addition, as African government loan repayments became due, interest rates on the loans began to rise as the United States sought to control inflation through monetary policy.

Previously rising mining production levels stagnated or dropped, growth slowed, and debt grew across the continent, reducing the foreign exchange available to purchase the imports needed to further industrialization. Between 1980 and 1988, 25 African countries rescheduled their debts 105 times. In the DRC, copper and cobalt exports decreased sharply, eventually collapsing by the early 1990s.

Of course, external shocks were not the sole cause of the reversal. Internal dynamics had a critical role to play. In the DRC, external shocks unmasked the failures and limitations of Mobutu鈥檚 nation state-building project. Nationalization measures undertaken in 1973 and 1974 to provide an emerging politico-commercial class of senior state bureaucrats with access to productive capital鈥攌nown as Zairianization鈥攚ere poorly planned and implemented and went badly awry. Agriculture had been neglected, receiving less than 1 per cent of state expenditure from 1968 to 1972, and the Congolese manufacturing sector was in decline.

Yet, a consideration of the impact of external shocks, alongside recognition of the progress made by newly independent African governments in the short time frame up until this juncture, was largely missing from influential analyses of the 1980s seeking to understand the causes of African economic stagnation from the mid-1970s onwards.

Instead, misguided African state intervention and government corruption were put forward as primary causal explanations, to the exclusion of other factors. Championed largely by Africanists based in North American universities (such as Robert Bates and Eliot Berg, the latter the author of the World Bank鈥檚 1981 report ), this line of thinking was immediately embraced by the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and the World Bank.

In the DRC, World Bank reports from the 1980s show how ingrained this view was at the time. In one, the Bank argued that the country鈥檚 economic decline was due to 鈥榓 long series of inadequate economic and financial decisions. Nothing in the past decade has had a more lasting and devastating effect on the economy than the Zairianization and Nationalization measures of 1973 and 1974.鈥�

There is no doubting that the ill-conceived nationalization policies of the 1970s held a share of the responsibility for the DRC鈥檚 economic difficulties during this period. Yet, such factors ought to be weighed in consideration with the impact of external shocks鈥� which began for the DRC with the copper price crash in 1974鈥攁nd the achievements made by the Mobutu administration up until this point. Such a weighting exercise is absent from both reports.

Offering a regional perspective, on the causes of the mid-1970s decline in African economic performance is worth citing at length:

Our intention here is not to rationalize, let alone ignore the infamous mismanagement of economies by African governments. Rather, the point is to emphasize that successful adjustment will be elusive unless Africa始s vulnerability to external factors is recognised. Such a recognition will serve in rethinking the form and content of Africa始s structural transformation. Failure to account for such factors, even as one corrects for internal policy errors, can frustrate attempts at change and condemn them to involuntary reversal.

By downplaying the external and foregrounding the internal, the result is an analysis and diagnosis that lays the blame firmly on the state management and ownership structures underpinning national developmentalist ambitions in the 1960s and early 1970s, to the exclusion of external shocks and trends in the global economy.

With governments across the global South in debt distress, and with little or no access to international capital markets during this period, the IMF and the Bank grew significantly in influence, formulating a neoliberal set of now infamous policies that came to be known as the Washington Consensus. The policy doctrine of privatization, liberalization, and deregulation was implemented across Africa by World Bank and IMF-financed structural adjustment programmes (SAPs). Crucially, most SAPs had a focus on increasing primary commodity exports, but this time around鈥攖o correct for the perceived failures of the recent past鈥攗nder new management.

Stage two: Liberalize and privatize

It was in this neoliberal political and ideological context that, as Hormeku-Ajei and Goetz have summarized, 鈥樷��. Between 1980 and 2021, the Bank provided $1.1 billion in mining sector grants and loans to fifteen of the continent鈥檚 seventeen mineral-rich, low-income countries (LICs) (Table 1).

Table 1 African LIC metal and mineral wealth

Sources: Author classification based on the World Bank鈥檚 fiscal year 2020 country classifications by income level, US Geological Survey country reports, and The Artisanal and Small-Scale Mining Knowledge Sharing Archive.

Prior to the rise of China as an alternative source of resource-linked finance, and with many African countries still unable to access international capital markets, the Bank was able to exert significant influence through these grants and loans to implement its strategic vision for how mining should be organized and managed, as laid out in its 1992 report:

The private sector should take the lead. Private investors should own and operate mines鈥�. Existing state mining companies should be privatized at the earliest opportunity to improve productivity of the operations and to give a clear signal to investors with respect to the government始s intention to follow a private-sector-based strategy.

In the DRC, staff from the Bank worked in close collaboration with a Congolese committee on the drafting of the mining law. Blaming mining-sector decline on poor governance under the Mobutu administration, the eventual 2002 Mining Code moved to privatize state-owned mining enterprises and attract fresh foreign direct investment (FDI) by offering a generously liberal fiscal regime, including tax holidays and exemptions and low royalty rates. This included the eventual privatization of the country鈥檚 two largest SOEs, the copper producer G茅camines and the diamond producer Soci茅t茅 mini猫re de Bakwanga.

Three decades on, the underlying logic of the Bank鈥檚 African mining strategy continues to hold. In 2021, the Bank had ongoing mining reform programmes in the seven mineral-rich, African LICs of Niger ($100 million), Guinea ($65 million), Mozambique ($50 million), Mali ($40 million), Sierra Leone ($20 million), Togo ($15 million), and the Central African Republic ($10 million). Each programme was focused, in whole or in part, on institutional and regulatory change within a general framework giving overall priority to capital-intensive, foreign-owned mining.

With the regulatory framework overhauled, foreign investment was unleashed to seek out fresh opportunities. Mining exploration in Africa increased from 4 per cent of total mineral exploration expenditure worldwide in 1991 to 17.5 per cent in 1998, and overall mining investment in Africa doubled between 1990 and 1997. The start of a commodity supercycle in 1999 gave fresh impetus to this activity. In 2004, the $15 billion invested in mining in Africa represented 15 per cent of the total of mining investment worldwide, up from 5 per cent in the mid-1980s and putting the region third globally, behind Latin America and Oceania. From 2002 to 2012, a period spanning most of the supercycle, mineral exploration spending in Africa rose by more than 700 per cent, reaching $3.1 billion in 2012.

In 2007, the United Nations Conference on Trade and Development (UNCTAD) :

the sweeping changes in African mining policy in the 1980s and 1990s were aimed at attracting FDI and increasing exports, in which they have been successful. Total FDI inflows into African least-developed countries rose fourfold from an annual average of $1.7 billion in the 1990s to $6.8 billion in 2000 to 2005鈥he bulk of which was directed to mineral extractive industries.

In the DRC, FDI inflows focused almost exclusively on mining, increasing by a factor of seventeen between 2002 and 2012, from $188 million to $3.3 billion. Across the same period, FDI stocks rose from $907 million to $22.5 billion or from 10 per cent to 59 per cent of gross domestic product.

Looking at the aggregate level of inward FDI flows to the group of 17 mineral-rich, African LICs from 1970 to 2019 confirms this picture. Total FDI inflows to the group were low and stable during the 1970s and 1980s, at an annual average of just $0.2 billion, increasing only slightly to $0.6 billion in the 1990s. Hereafter, they grew to an annual average of $3.9 billion in the 2000s and $13.9 billion in the 2010s.

At the country level, FDI inflows have grown significantly across all 17 countries from this group, with the sole exception of Eritrea. While countries such as Madagascar, Guinea, Mali, Sierra Leone, Malawi, Togo, and Burkina Faso received the lowest levels of foreign investment across the group, they have nonetheless experienced pronounced increases in these flows since the turn of the century, much of which has been mineral-seeking. And as highlighted earlier, it is in several of these lower-placed countries that, in 2021, the World Bank had active mining sector liberalization and privatization programmes.

The dramatic increase in FDI growth since the 1990s has altered the composition of these economies, which have become increasingly dependent upon FDI as a source of development financing, and this level of dependence is greater today relative to other country groups and regions.

Stage three: Criminalize African miners

One final stage was required before transnational mining corporations could move front and centre. This involved dealing with the on-the-ground reality that, for many incoming transnationals, their prized deposits were already occupied by African miners involved in a wide range of labour-intensive forms of mining. Most commonly associated with gold and diamonds, labour-intensive African mining is also involved in the production of silver, copper, cobalt, tin, tantalum, iron ore, aluminium, tungsten, wolframite, phosphates, precious and semi-precious stones, and rare earth minerals, among others. Globally, labour-intensive mining has been estimated to contribute up to 30 per cent of total cobalt production, 25 per cent for tin, tantalum, and diamonds, 20 per cent for gold, and 80 per cent for sapphires.

Labour-intensive African mining has grown significantly since the 1980s to directly employ millions of workers across the continent, driven by three factors. First, the crisis of African agriculture has led to an increasingly important role for off-farm employment. Second, the decline of state-led national developmentalism and the collapse of welfare provisioning under the weight of structural adjustment during the 1980s exerted significant strain on the productive and reproductive capacity of rural African households. Third, rising commodity prices, especially during the supercycle of 1999鈥�2012, pulled people towards the sector, where there were often higher wages and profits to be made than locally available alternatives.

Despite the sector鈥檚 importance to rural employment, African miners have typically been cast by the World Bank, African governments, and parts of the scholarly literature as 鈥榩rimitive鈥�, 鈥榖asic鈥�, 鈥榠nefficient鈥�, 鈥榬udimentary鈥�, and 鈥榰nproductive鈥� (in contrast to the 鈥榚fficient鈥�, 鈥榤odern鈥�, 鈥榗omplex鈥�,

and 鈥榩roductive鈥� mining corporation). As a result, labour-intensive African mining has been peripheral to mining development strategies on the continent. Criminalized by policy frameworks unless they submit to a set of procedurally complex, bureaucratically burdensome, and financially costly demands to formalize their activities, and cast as illegally encroaching on a concession once it has been assigned to a corporation, African miners have time and time again been forcibly displaced from their sites to make way for the construction of corporate-led industrial mines. Often financed by the incoming corporations themselves, and echoing violent colonial practices of the past, displacement has frequently taken place as government military-led 鈥榮weeps鈥�.

In 2017, 70,000 miners were displaced by Ugandan military and police in Mubende to make way for a Canadian-listed mining corporation. Speaking to local media shortly after the displacement, Edwards Katto, a Director at the Ugandan Ministry of Energy and Mineral Development, :

Those people [Ugandan miners] still joking should style up. Now, I鈥檓 not only a director [in the Ministry] but also a commander of the Minerals Protection Unit of the Uganda Police Force. So, those illegal miners still behaving like those in Mubende [who were evicted], they should pack and vacate the mines, otherwise, my police force will them help to pack.

This statement speaks well to the general regard held for African miners within the process of capital-intensive, foreign-owned mining (re)industrialization. These dynamics recall Marx鈥檚 description of primitive accumulation, or Harvey鈥檚 (2004: 74) reconceptualization of this as a continuous process of accumulation by dispossession, involving 鈥樷��. Forcibly displaced and removed from the best deposits, African miners are restricted to working in less productive areas.

With the African state framed as corrupt and mismanaged, and African miners as inefficient and unproductive criminals, the path was cleared for the en masse arrival of transnational mining corporations, across a far wider group of countries than was the case during the colonial period (when most mineral deposits remained unknown to foreign capital, particularly in West Africa). From Glencore and Pengxin in the DRC and Emirates Global Aluminium in Guineau, to Cluff Minerals and Etruscan Resources in Burkina Faso and Shandong Iron in Sierra Leone, to AngloGold Ashanti and Acacia Mining in Tanzania and Rio Tinto in Madagascar 鈥� the list goes on 鈥� foreign corporations dominate today鈥檚 landscape.

Recent mining code and policy revisions led by African governments such as Tanzania, the DRC, Sierra Leone, and Malawi have begun to push back against this dominance, taking inspiration from the Africa Mining Vision, a framework developed by the African Union in 2009 to deepen the linkages between foreign-owned mining and national economies and strengthen government capacity to negotiate with and leverage developmental benefits from foreign mining corporations.

The mining industry and some scholarship has been quick to herald these revisions as marking a new era of resource nationalism. As proclaimed in 2019, 鈥楾he fight between miners and African governments is just getting started鈥�. Changes to date are yet, however, to provide a fundamental challenge to the dominant model of capital-intensive, foreign-owned mining industrialization on the continent. They remain a far cry from the earlier period of 1960s and 1970s resource sovereignty to which the discourse on resource nationalism alludes.

Ben Radley () is a Lecturer in International Development at the University of Bath. His research interests relate to the political economy of economic transformation in Africa, with a focus on resource-based industrialisation, green transitions, and labour dynamics. He鈥檚 a member of the Editorial Working Group for ROAPE, and an affiliated member of the Centre of Mining Research at the Catholic University of Bukavu, DR Congo.

This excerpt was originally posted on .

by Jo毛l Noret & Narcisse M. Yedji

Since 2017, Cotonou 鈥� the economic capital of Benin 鈥� has witnessed several urban development projects. Aiming to showcase the city as the new face of a new Benin, attractive to both businessmen and tourists, the plans have involved extensive tarmacking projects, the development of the city鈥檚 first shopping malls, the rebuilding of several markets to 鈥榤odern鈥� standards, the erection of emblematic statues 鈥� notably that of 鈥樷��, branded as an ode to feminine courage and a national emblem 鈥�, and the design of a new coast line. The urban poor have paid a disproportionate price in the implementation of this new 鈥� that is, a shiny urban renovation project disconnected from the sociological realities of the city and from the needs of whole swathes of its population, especially in the urban precariat.

In what follows, we argue that the successive waves of evictions of thousands of poor urban dwellers have pressurized in multiple ways and in the longer run already fragile existences. As neighbourhoods and livelihood were dislocated, their ex-residents were simultaneously witnessing their life chances shrinking for the foreseeable future, and faced with the traumatic aftermath of dislocated homes. A 鈥榞enerative鈥� process in itself, as Gunv贸r Jonsson recently argued on this blog about evictions in Dakar, there is no doubt that state pressure grounded in neoliberal urbanism affects the urban poor in multiple ways. The following paragraphs explore such multi-layered consequences, from degraded economic conditions to tarnished senses of one鈥檚 place in the social world.

Cotonou鈥檚 evictions in retrospect

In Benin鈥檚 economic capital, the combination of a fight against 鈥榠nformal鈥� petty trading along main roads and avenues in the name of a 鈥樷��, and the redrawing of the city鈥檚 waterfront have led to the eviction of more than 10.000 鈥榠llegal鈥� people since 2017, in many cases adding more pressure and insecurity to already precarious lives. Of course, evictions already have a long history in Benin, having first been practiced by colonial authorities, and then periodically resurfacing throughout the postcolonial history of the country. Yet, their magnitude since 2016 and the coming to power of Patrice Talon, is unprecedented.

The first wave of evictions planned under the current president took place in 2017. , as well as more than two dozen kilometres of roads and avenues, were cleared from the 鈥榠nformal鈥� petty trading activities taking place on the pavement, as well as from extensions of more established businesses who had infringed on the public domain. In parallel, a historical waterfront neighbourhood of fishermen 鈥� known as Enagnon 鈥� located on the east side of the mouth of the estuary flowing through Cotonou, was then the first neighbourhood to be evicted. Enagnon was an old settlement built out of a mix of concrete and precarious materials, and looked indeed like a slum. State authorities argued that it had become a place of criminal activities, and the area was to give way to new coastal infrastructures . Approximately 550 houses were then destroyed and , with compensations ranging between 150 and 300 euros per house.

At the time of the evictions, Enagnon was known to be one of the city鈥檚 poorest neighbourhoods. found that households鈥� monthly income in such neighbourhoods then was averaging 120 euros a month (with the mean size of households at 4.4 people) 鈥� that is, significantly less than the mean of 265 euros per month for (with an average size of households at 4) at the time. Less than a quarter of the adult population had attended secondary school. There was indeed little chance that such a population would challenge the state, despite the extremely low compensations offered. As expected, the design of the new waterfront took precedence over the poor鈥檚 without much protest.

On the other (west) side of the mouth of Cotonou鈥檚 estuary, the , known as Xwlacodji, was finally erased entirely in 2021. This was following earlier waves of partial evictions in 2012 and 2019. The last wave in 2021 included compensations given only to the last remaining house owners. At 8000 euros and a small replacement plot thirty kilometres away, on the eastern edge of Cotonou, these were significantly higher than those paid in Enagnon a few years earlier, despite not being in line with the actual value of the land in this central, waterfront district 鈥� probably around ten times higher than the compensations.

The compensated eviction of Xwlacodji was also in stark contrast with the simultaneous eviction of another old waterfront neighbourhood, Fiyegnon 1, approximately eight kilometres westwards. Indeed, in Fiyegnon 1, this other fishermen鈥檚 neighbourhood was entirely evicted . At the time of its foundation, approximately 60 years earlier, the settlement was born out of a community of fishermen settled there at the turn of independence, after having been first evicted from the site of the new presidential palace. In 2021, the vicinity was still inhabited by many fishermen who depended on their proximity to the sea for their livelihoods, although there were also many other workers of the so-called 鈥榠nformal鈥� economy. The neighbourhood totalled 623 registered households and about 3,000 inhabitants distributed over approximately eight hectares next to Cotonou鈥檚 beach. Just as in Enagnon and Xwlacodji, houses were built both in cement and in more precarious materials, depending on the economic conditions of the households.

In Fiyegnon 1, people benefited from electricity and water connections, and held state certificates attesting of the limits of their respective plots. Yet, in September 2021, following a ministerial order published two months earlier, the neighbourhood was entirely destroyed by bulldozers supported by a heavy police deployment. No compensations or relocation scheme were implemented. Instead, here as in Enagnon, evicted citizens were left contemplating their denied citizenship, in an African illustration of what precarious can experience at the hand of state contempt.

Lives under pressures

Inevitably, each of these evictions generated their own set of miseries, depriving mostly poor city dwellers of a home, a neighbourhood, and a livelihood. Turning thousands of lives upside down, the multiple anxieties 鈥� inextricably economic, social, psychic 鈥� generated by these events, have been putting additional pressure on already fragile social existences.

This can first be understood in terms of concrete health outcomes: in both the 2017 and 2021 eviction campaigns, several people with health conditions had strokes when bulldozers started operating through the settlements, and others followed in the next few days. One year after the Enagnon eviction of 2017, the number of deaths resulting from strokes occurred in the aftermath of the destructions could be estimated . In a similar macabre vein, in 2023, the head of the Fiyegnon 1 district counted more than twenty deaths in the two years following the eviction, which resulted directly from strokes that had occurred at the moment of destruction or soon afterwards. The structural violence of evictions here translates quite literally in pressure in the urban poor鈥檚 bodies themselves. Or, as a woman from Enagnon put it after her 2017 eviction, 鈥榞overnment handed us over to death鈥�.

In this sense, and in the manner of Marx evoking the somatic consequences of the radically exploitative working day of 19^th century factory workers, evictions driven by neoliberal urbanism call for a carnal political economy of such oppressive 鈥榙evelopment鈥� policies, channeling our attention to both the economic and political dimensions of such destructions, and their bodily consequences, with crucial health implications, revealing social pressures as internalized and embodied. Indeed, shortly after the 2021 eviction of the Fiyegnon 1 neighbourhood, residents inevitably complained of the somatic and psychic discomfort and stress that came with their material losses, sometimes in terms evoking trauma. 鈥業 can鈥檛 sleep鈥�, 鈥業 can鈥檛 forget鈥�, 鈥業鈥檓 angry鈥�, were common reactions and sentences among evicted residents in the aftermath of the destruction of their houses and livelihood. Feelings of alienation and dispossession were common. Several people compared the way they were treated to the way animals are treated, suggesting they were considered like 鈥榙ogs鈥� or 鈥榗hickens鈥�. Reflecting on the state brutalization that residents were experiencing, a man once erupted in a group discussion that the evicted had been changed in 鈥榬efugees in their own country鈥�, forced out of their homes with 鈥榓 mattress on their head鈥�.

In fact, longer-term consequences of such evictions must be considered in a multidimensional perspective, as they affect people鈥檚 鈥榣ife chances鈥�, in Max Weber鈥檚 words, over the longer run. As we researched the consequences of Fiyegnon鈥檚 eviction in the year that followed the destruction, it quickly became clear that residents had not only experienced denied citizenship and the loss of a home 鈥� many residents actually lived on the family plots to which they had a form of property right 鈥� and a neighbourhood which was a space of everyday sociability. In both Enagnon and Fiyegnon, where we conducted follow-up research with ex-residents, people were left at the mercy of their kin network or other social relationships in the short term, and forced into rentals on the longer run. Yet, crucially, many residents also lost or witnessed the degradation of their livelihood and their chances to make a living.

Indeed, in such popular neighbourhoods, economic chances and income-generating activities were, for many residents, closely intertwined with the local space and 鈥� now dismembered 鈥� community. Coastal fishing activities, for instance, require the coordination of a few dozen men 鈥� some men being involved on a daily basis, others more episodically. These fishermen are now scattered over the surrounding districts, which complicates coordination and weakens the sector. As a consequence, many women involved in petty trading of fish have seen their activities equally disrupted. Others were cooking in the street for local residents looking for a ready-made meal, or selling quotidian domestic products and food items, from sugar to toilet paper, and oil and tomatoes. Street-sellers 鈥� among which an overwhelming majority of women 鈥� have now lost their selling spot, and struggle to renegotiate one on another street.

In fact, the destruction of the neighbourhoods has had, in part, different effects on men and women. Forming a clear majority of those with land rights on the evicted plots, many men have experienced a net loss of property, and the security and status that go with it. Simultaneously, both men and women have then experienced a loss of economic opportunities as a result of reduced fishing activity. Part of the men, though, were working out of the neighbourhood, and haven鈥檛 seen their livelihood compromised in the same way. This was less the case for women. Indeed, for many women active in the so-called 鈥榠nformal economy鈥�, livelihoods were often closely intertwined with the local social fabric. Their loss, and their experience of pressure, tended to be located in their economic prospects, resulting from the destruction of their small capital during the eviction, and/or the loss of their selling spot, which was often close to their house.

In short, not only have evicted households seen their land rights ignored, their homes destroyed and their local community dismembered, with all the health outcomes of such experience of structural state violence. Pressurized by a brutal urban policy, they have experienced a reduction of their economic prospects and of their life chances that equates to a longer-term . Unfortunately, their case is far from exceptional, as massive evictions have swept the continent in the last decade. A few dozen kilometres east of Cotonou, similar analysis of how neoliberal urbanism aiming at reinforcing the international attractivity of the city actually weakens the right to the city and the social conditions of the urban poor has recently been made about the neighbouring . A growing body of literature now unequivocally shows how such neoliberal urbanism reinforces social inequalities and deepens the spatial divisions of the city. In further destabilizing and pressurizing precarious working class households, the economic theory underlying such public policies actually reveals itself as bad and damaging economic policy. By making poor households more vulnerable and deepening the social and spatial divisions of the city, the hidden costs generated by such pressurizing policies far outweigh the benefits of a redesigned waterfront.

Jo毛l Noret is Professor of Anthropology at the Universit茅 libre de Bruxelles (Belgium). His research focuses on the production of social class in Benin. He has recently edited the volume Social Im/mobilities in Africa (Oxford, Berghahn Books, 2020).

Narcisse Martial Yedji is a political sociologist and a Department Lecturer at the Universit茅 d鈥橝bomey-Calavi (Benin). In the last few years, he has been working on evictions and the production of urban space in Cotonou.

Photo: The site of the now evicted neighbourhood of Fiyegnon 1. Coconut trees have replaced houses and streets. Picture: Jo毛l Noret, July 2022