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Structural Transformation in the Countryside

By Bettina Engels and Kristina Dietz

Related to the recent ‘commodity boom’, mining is expanding enormously in almost all parts of the world. The literature on large-scale mining and artisanal and small-scale mining, its social and economic impacts, governance, and related conflicts, is likewise expanding (see Bebbington and Bury 2013; Campbell 2009; Engels and Dietz 2017). The recent mining boom related to the (re-)emergence of resource-led development strategies is conceptualised in terms of ‘extractivism’ or ‘neoextractivism’: a national, growth-orientated development pathway based on rent seeking activities, that involves the large-scale exploitation, production, and exportation of raw materials. Strikingly, the debate on extractivism makes relatively few references to the field of Critical Agrarian Studies.  While Critical Agrarian Studies focuses almost exclusively on the agricultural sector and hardly deals with mining. As a consequence, both debates are pursued in parallel, though both present critical ways of analysing the restructuration of the global countryside.

This blogpost interlinks research on extractivism and the mining boom on the one hand, and Critical Agrarian Studies on the other. Relating these two fields of research proves obvious, as current trends in both agriculture and mining, namely the expansion of agro-industrial production and large-scale mining, are linked to the same overarching context that is the global pervasion of capitalism and related ‘multiple crises’. On the ground, the same population is often engaged in both sectors, and both processes trigger structural transformations of the rural countryside with similar effects.

Many national governments, regional development banks, and international organisations have put forward plans for intensified extraction of raw materials as an important growth and export-orientated development strategy. From the 1990s onwards, national governments in Latin America, sub-Saharan Africa, and Southeast Asia, in the context of neoliberal structural adjustment programmes, have pushed forward new legislation in order to attract foreign investment: mining activities have been promoted and agrarian policies reformed. The latter have aimed to liberalise land markets, privatise land tenure, and capitalise the agricultural sector.

The increasing economic importance of the resource sector has resulted in many countries in an unprecedented spatial expansion of mining and agro-industrial production into areas hitherto sparsely exposed to capital forces. Against this background, struggles over land in general and mining in particular have increased around the world. A rising number of non-state and state actors have become involved in these struggles. The issues at stake are manifold. In some cases, the idea of extractivism is contested as a whole; in others, the underlying norms and political reforms that sustain extractivism as a development strategy are rejected or concrete projects for mining are opposed. Nevertheless, in many of today’s contestations over mining, the issues of conflict overlap.

This blogpost focuses on conflicts over mining and asks what insights Critical Agrarian Studies can provide us with in their analysis. Conflict is understood as social action that is structured through power and interests, and which is always embedded in overarching social structures (divisions of labour, power distribution, gender, class, and other social relationships). We argue that Critical Agrarian Studies can prove fruitful in the analysis of structural change in the countryside—in which the expansion of the extractive sector is a considerable factor—and in particular in conceiving the impacts of global transformation. From a Critical Agrarian Studies perspective, we are able to understand the origins of the expansion of mining, and to link it to an overarching political-economic context. In particular, Critical Agrarian Studies enables us to bring two core categories into the analysis of mining and related conflicts: labour and class. When it comes to understanding conflicts as social action, however, a firmly structuralist perspective such as that provided by Critical Agrarian Studies is stretched to its limits.

We begin by presenting the core tenets of Critical Agrarian Studies, outlining its theoretical foundations and the main questions for empirical analysis derived from it. Next, the insights that Critical Agrarian Studies provides for the analysis of the recent mining boom and related conflicts are discussed, particularly with regard to labour and class. In the conclusion, the potentials and limitations of Critical Agrarian Studies for understanding conflicts over mining are summarised.

Critical Agrarian Studies

Critical Agrarian Studies represents a field of research that unites critical scholars from various disciplines such as Sociology, Anthropology, Political Science, Geography, Global History, and Development Economics. Claiming to combine research and activism, ‘Critical Agrarian Studies are […] an institutionalized academic field, and an informal network (or various networks) that links professional intellectuals, agriculturalists, scientific journals and alternative media, and non-governmental development organizations, as well as activists’ (Edelman and Wolford 2017: 4).

Critical Agrarian Studies builds upon Peasant Studies, likewise an interdisciplinary field of research that has developed from the early 1970s onwards. Both fields share common theoretical grounds—Marxism, particularly Marxist analyses of the ‘agrarian question’—that engage with the processes, and implications and limitations, of capitalist pervasion of the agricultural sector; i.e. its transformation from subsistence and small-holder to capitalist production, including the separation of labour and the means of production. Critical Agrarian Studies, as opposed to Peasant Studies, shifts the focus towards the global political economy, embedding its analysis and findings in global processes. It starts from a critique of ‘peasant essentialism’ that was widespread, also among critical scholars, in the 1970s and 1980s. Peasants do not form a homogenous class, nor are rural populations limited to peasants. Rather, the livelihoods of people living in the countryside build on animal husbandry and pastoralism, fishery, paid labour in both agricultural and non-agricultural sectors, both formal and informal, crafts, trading, artisanal mining, and many others, as Henry Bernstein and Terence Byrnes emphasised in the inaugural issue of the Journal of Agrarian Change in 2001. Analyses of agrarian structures and change thus reveal how the peasantry relates to other social classes in terms of property relations, capital–labour relations, and rural–urban relations.

A core assumption of Critical Agrarian Studies is that agrarian and urban societies mutually constitute one another, in particular concerning patterns of production and consumption. Scholars from Critical Agrarian Studies analyse agrarian change by focusing on patterns of accumulation; on processes of production, i.e. the distribution of the means of production, technological changes, and labour commodification; and on how agrarian politics interact with processes of accumulation and production. Henry Bernstein, in his fundamental essay on ‘Class Dynamics and Agrarian Change’ in 2010 summarised this focus through four questions that guide the study of agrarian: Who owns what? Who does what? Who gets what? What do they do with it?

Critical Agrarian Studies basically applies a structuralist perspective, prioritising historical developments at a macro level. At the societal level, analyses starting from the agrarian question investigate the formation and differentiation of rural classes. At the macro level, one important concept for the analysis of agrarian change in general and class structures in particular is the food regime. Food regime analysis aims at an ‘understanding of agriculture and food’s role in capital accumulation across time and space. In specifying patterns of circulation of food in the world economy it underlines the agro-food dimension of geo-politics’ (McMichael 2009: 140).

More generally, from a global history perspective, scholars have demonstrated how capitalism advances by expanding the ‘frontier’ of the exploitation of key commodities (such as sugar, rice, tobacco, cotton) to ever more remote and peripheral rural zones. Frontiers are thereby not to be understood as fixed borderlines, territories, or places, but as ‘socio-ecological relations that unleash a new stream of nature’s bounty to capital: cheap food, cheap energy, cheap raw materials, and cheap labour’ (Moore 2010: 245).

Critical Agrarian Studies, however, due to its tendency to focus narrowly on ‘the’ agrarian question, ‘like the Marxism on which it draws, is not a consensus field’ (Edelman and Wolford 2017: 5). More recent contributions to the field, in contrast to the relatively schematic, world systems theory-led perspective advocated by Jason Moore and others emphasise the importance of ‘local and national dynamics’ (Bush and Martiniello 2017: 200). These studies investigate the respective histories of social struggles related to the economic valuation of agriculture under different systems (colonialism, capitalism, socialism) and the historical production of the social world. They look at the spatial dimensions of structural change in the countryside, and at human–nature and nature–culture relations. And they go beyond rural–urban linkages. They do this by exploring ‘nature in the city’ and similar planning logics in urban and rural settings.

Insights for analysing conflicts over mining

If one applies a narrow definition of ‘land-grabbing’ as restricted to the purpose of agricultural production, then it may seem reasonable to exclude land acquisitions for fossil and mineral extraction. This does not, however, imply that Critical Agrarian Studies is generally limited to such a narrow understanding. Quite the contrary, excluding mining risks losing sight of one of the core drivers of the current structural transformation of the global countryside. Parallels and linkages between agro-industry and large-scale mining are obvious: both are features of capitalism that are increasingly pervading remote rural areas all over the world. The same drivers, notably capital seeking opportunities of investment and profit maximising, and national governments seeking rents for debt reduction and development, advance the expansion of both.

Key commodities upon whose exploitation the development of the modern capitalist world is built are agrarian as well as fossil and mineral (such as coal, oil, iron, and copper). What is more, they are closely interlinked: cheap energy, raw materials, food, and labour depend on one another. As ?? Moore argued in 2010, cheap inputs are needed to generate high profits; when cheap inputs are difficult to acquire, capitalism risks falling into crisis. Hence the erosion of the ‘four cheaps’ fuels the appropriation of nature, meaning that capital intensifies to flow into commodity markets. This dynamic boosts both the expansion of agro-industry and large-scale mining.

So, what does Critical Agrarian Studies provide us with in the analysis of conflicts over mining? To begin with, it brings us back to the recurrent theme of the ‘agrarian question’: What happens if capital penetrates the countryside?  One answer was provided by David Harvey in 2003: accumulation by exploitation is complemented by accumulation by dispossession. These accumulation processes do not go uncontested but are accompanied by conflicts and social struggles—both in urban and rural settings, and both related to agribusiness and mining. However, Critical Agrarian Studies has also demonstrated the fact that while capital is further taking hold of land and labour in the countryside, this does not mean that the complex forms of social and class differentiation that characterise rural zones in many parts of the world are disappearing. On the contrary, the expansion of capitalist landed property in recent years is associated with a consolidation of poor and middle peasants and the continuation of various forms of labour relations.

The recent boom in mining equally comprises large-scale, as well as artisanal and small-scale mining: though informal artisanal miners are in many cases expelled from territories under large-scale mining concessions, artisanal and small-scale mining is altogether expanding. A Critical Agrarian Studies perspective based on a full reading of the agrarian question, i.e. a perspective that is not exclusively concerned with class relationships in a narrow sense, thus promises to help explain the puzzling persistence of the ‘small’ in mining.

Historical materialist analysis, as advocated by Critical Agrarian Studies, uncovers patterns of accumulation and transformation, and their interrelations with cleavages in social classes. Thus, a major contribution that Critical Agrarian Studies brings to the analysis of mining conflicts is the focus on class formation and differentiation, class domination and subordination, and the roles they play in conflicts and collective action. This draws attention to the social differentiation of the still often romanticised and homogenised ‘local population’.

Labour

Existing studies on conflicts over mining mostly focus on the socio-ecological impacts of mining, and on conflicts emerging from environmental damages, loss of farm land and pasture, and the eviction and resettlement of villages. Anthony Bebbington et al. (2008) have argued that mining conflicts were historically characterised by labour struggles and conflicts between trade unions on the one hand and governments and mining companies on the other. The current territorial expansion of industrial mining (for example into indigenous territories and areas with small-scale agriculture and livestock farming) has resulted in both a shift in and an expansion of actor constellations in related conflicts and has widened the range of the subjects of conflict. Conflicts occur when local actors perceive the expansion of large-scale mining as a threat to their fundamental economic activities, or to their territorial, cultural, or political rights. Linked to these dynamics are conflicts over territorial control and access to water and land, over the effects on livelihoods, gender relations, and ecosystems, and over government regulations concerning the conditions for mining activities and the distribution of the profits and tax revenues of extractivism.

Critical Agrarian Studies, in contrast, brings labour into play—a topic that in recent studies of conflicts over mining has received less attention (with some exceptions, e.g. Bryceson and Geenen 2016; Larmer 2017; Rubbers 2010; Verbrugge 2016, 2017b). Referring to Bernstein’s four guiding questions above, an analysis inspired by Critical Agrarian Studies does not simply account for the quantity and quality of jobs created in the respective sector (agro-industry, mining, etc.) but also links these jobs to capital–labour relations and thus to overarching processes of development, both at the societal and the global level. Harvey’s concept of ‘accumulation by dispossession’ first coined in 2003 is fruitful for this purpose. Harvey refers to the privatisation and commodification of agricultural land and the shift of its control and use from family farmers and collectives to private agribusiness in the course of global processes of neoliberalisation. An equivalent shift can be observed in favour of large-scale mining for which both farm land and land used for artisanal mining is dispossessed.

Capital–labour conflicts do not, however, become less relevant, nor do large-scale mining ventures seize territories that were previously free from capitalist relations. It could be argued that with the expansion of industrial mining, the potential for labour-related conflicts also increases. Labour is a main argument in disputes over mining and might itself become an issue of conflict. Within and between communities affected by large-scale mining, costs and benefits are allocated disparately: some people—a minority in most cases—benefit from the mining industry in terms of employment and service supply; others at least hope to do so; and still others feel that they do not benefit at all but rather bear the costs. The proponents of industrial mining refer to its potential for employment growth and vocational training. The adversaries, by contrast, claim that the establishment of an industrial mine results in far less employment than people expect; that labour is mainly needed temporarily in the construction phase; that qualified and well-paid jobs are mainly taken by outsiders; and that, at the end of the day, a mine destroys more jobs and opportunities for income than it creates.

Analysing conflicts over mining also reveals that workers and unions are by no means necessarily in favour of industrial mining (at least not unconditionally) but frequently join hands with other segments of the popular classes—peasants, indigenous communities, herders, and artisanal miners among them—in mining-related conflicts. In Colombia, for example, the planned expansion of the Cerrejon Zona Norte coal mine in La Guajira province in the north of the country in 2014 triggered the formation of a multi-sector protest alliance consisting of indigenous women’s groups, a citizens’ initiative from the nearest city, human rights and environmental organisations from Bogotá, and unionists from Sintracarbón, the union of the Cerrejon mine workers. Cerrejon is operated by subsidiaries of the transnational mining companies BHP Billiton, Anglo American, and Glencore. The company justifies the expansion of the mine on the basis of job security and rural development. In reality, the expansion implies the resettlement of indigenous communities and the diversion of important streams of water in a region characterised by drought and poor water supply. The perception of the expansion of the mine as an existential threat to the water supply and thus to the sustainability of rural and urban life in the area has evoked the joint opposition of workers and other segments of the rural and urban popular classes (see for a fuller consideration Dietz 2017; García 2017).

Labour-related struggles can equally occur at artisanal mining sites. Though most artisanal mining is conducted informally and is not subject to formalised capital–labour relations, this certainly does not imply that the means of production are in the hands of those who work with them, that capital does not play a core role in informal artisanal mining, or that relationships of exploitation are absent. Quite the opposite, artisanal mining sites are characterised by complex power relations structured by—though not only—capital and labour. In Burkina Faso, for example, concessions for artisanal mining are in the hands of the local ‘Big Men’. Usually there is an ‘owner’ of the pit, who invests in the equipment and machines. The concessionaire and the pit owners make the biggest profits overall in artisanal gold mining. Nevertheless, informal artisanal mining offers a livelihood to a large number of people, even though it is largely under precarious conditions. The informal artisanal miners are organised into teams and work at their own risk. Furthermore, in addition to the teams who work in or on the pits, numerous others—men and women of all ages, as well as children and youths—are involved in processing the artisanally mined gold (see Chouli 2014: 29; Engels 2017; Luning 2006; Werthmann 2012). Such structural settings and social and economic relations—which are often perceived by external observers as chaotic but are in fact highly organised—characterise artisanal mining sites all over the world.

Class

Class as an analytical category is strikingly absent in recent studies on mining and related conflicts. In contrast, livelihood is quite a prominent concept (see Bebbington et al. 2008; Bury 2004), notably in research and policy debates on artisanal and small-scale mining (see Hilson et al. 2013; Hilson and Banchirigah 2009; Jønsson and Fold 2011; Maconachie and Hilson 2011). As Bridget O’Laughlin  argued in 2002, ‘livelihood’ is overwhelmingly conceptualised in institutionalist terms that focus on the individual and his/her capabilities and entitlements—an approach that consequently loses sight of historically shaped structural causes of poverty. Obviously, rural poverty and everyday life realities are diverse and multi-layered and are ‘shaped both by exploitation and oppression and by resistance to them’ (O’Laughlin 2002: 513). Capturing the dialectic of oppression and resistance by referring to class and class struggle allows for a shift in focus towards (possible) collective action and its relationship to individual action—and thus for the analysis of conflicts.

Analysing conflict and collective action through the lens of class struggles does not necessarily imply a confusion of mass movements with formal organisation. Neither does the absence of identifiable movements imply that class is obsolete. One advantage of class as an analytical category is that it enables us to differentiate between protests that challenge the essential structures of authority and exploitation, and those that allow people to come to terms with these structures. In conflicts over mining, both forms occur frequently. Social actors mobilise in order to hamper or stop a mining project, or for the conditions to be changed (for example regarding compensation, resettlement, job creation, etc.). Implicitly in many cases, explicitly in at least some, such project-related claims are linked to more fundamental ones, challenging the basics of political authority and economic structures: the understanding of ‘development’, political and cultural rights, the recognition of rights to territorial self-determination and autonomy. A class-based analysis links struggles and claims to fundamental structures of society and the political economy, and thus helps us not only to differentiate and systematise actors and their claims, but also to reveal the transformative power of conflicts.

A class-based perspective, moreover, affords the opportunity to understand the configuration of actors in social struggles. Class-based analysis should therefore not be limited to the working class in a narrow sense (those selling their labour in the formal or informal sector) but should include the whole range of poor people. As E. P. Thompson (1991) demonstrated, rather than a fixed economic category, class is a social relationship, and as such, historically specific and context-dependent. For the purpose of the empirical analysis of social struggles in the global countryside, it is neither helpful to construe working and rural classes as opposed to one another, nor to simply give up on the concept of class in favour of other, allegedly immaterial categories such as ethnicity, indigeneity, and nationality. This is not to say that these categories are not central to the construction of collective identity, to social relationships of power and authority, and to the mobilisation of protest and other forms of collective action. However, focusing (solely) on cultural categories in the analysis of social conflicts and struggles poses the risk of losing sight of material inequalities and the political-economic structures in which they are rooted.

Protests and resistance do not take place in free, deliberative spaces but within social and political contexts that are structured by unequal material conditions. This being said, in-depth empirical research at the micro level of collective action in social conflicts, and analysis of the political-economic structures at the macro level, are by no means mutually exclusive but rather go perfectly hand-in-hand. David Seddon and Leo Zeilig proposed in 2005 the term ‘popular classes’: students, employees, small-scale farmers, self-employed from the informal sectors, petty traders, and the like. The concept can be deployed instructively, not only in the analysis of conflicts over mining, but also in struggles related to agrarian change in general. As O’Laughlin argued recently, focusing on class formation within the peasantry risks limiting our understanding of class alliances to the politics of anti-capitalist struggles.

Conclusion

To sum up, examining conflicts over mining through the lens of Critical Agrarian Studies offers analytical potential for the investigation of further dimensions of structural transformation in the countryside beyond the agrarian sector. Critical Agrarian Studies enables us to put the analysis of mining and related conflicts in a broader global historical context of commodity exploitation and frontier expansion. Notably, it sheds light on, and provides us with tools with which to conceive of, capital–labour relations and class formation and differentiation. Enlarging the concepts of capital–labour relations and class beyond a narrow focus on formal, wage-related labour proves particularly illuminating. It allows one, for instance, to systematically unfold social structures at artisanal mining sites without falling into cultural essentialism. It renders the diversity within and among the actors engaged in struggles over mining visible, and at the same time opens up the view on class alliances. In addition, by embedding conflicts over mining in an overarching context of structural transformation, an analysis inspired by Critical Agrarian Studies eschews the trap of making categorical differentiations between struggles over exploitation and struggles over dispossession, and instead highlights how they are in fact two sides of the same coin.

When it comes to the analysis of conflicts, the focus on overarching structures of the global political economy is at the same time a strength and a constraint of Critical Agrarian Studies. As long as we do not comprehend any contradiction that is inherent to capitalism as a conflict, but rather conceptualise conflicts as social action (that is, obviously, always integrated into overarching social structures), a rigorous structuralist approach, as is prevalent in Critical Agrarian Studies, has its limits. It fits perfectly for the unveiling of structural contradictions but fails to assist in understanding how social actors perceive, interpret, and evaluate them, and thus in tracing how structural contradictions become meaningful and relevant for individual and collective action. ‘Marxists see exploitation and oppression as inherently laden with conflict’ write O’Laughlin in 2002, ‘Thus, resistance does not have to be explained […] rather it is the ways in which it is expressed, confronted or suppressed that are of interest’ (O’Laughlin 2002: 515). But not every contradiction and grievance perceived by an actor necessarily results (immediately) in action; for example, due to power relations, actors do not necessarily have the means available—and which they consider appropriate—for such action. The range of options and means for action available to actors depends on their position in the social field, which is structured in terms of power.

Critical Agrarian Studies is considerably heterogeneous, it also includes less rigorous macro-structuralist approaches that build upon conceptual and research strategies from, among others, Anthropology, Radical Geography, and Political Ecology. In combining these strategies with thorough qualitative empirical research at the micro level, it thereby succeeds in analytically linking social action to overarching structures.

This blogpost builds upon debate during the workshop Critical Agrarian Studies held by the research group ‘Global Change—Local Conflicts?’ at Freie Universität Berlin on 12 May, 2017. We deeply indebted to the contributions and the vibrant and inspiring debates by all participants, in particular Haroon Akram-Lodhi, Ray Bush, Deborah Johnston, Robin Thiers, and Henry Veltmeyer.

Bettina Engels is political scientist at the Department of Political and Social Sciences at Freie Universität Berlin. Kristina Dietz is Director of the Research Group ‘Global change – local conflicts? Land conflicts in Latin America and sub-Saharan Africa in the context of interdependent transformation processes’ (with Bettina Engels), at the Freie Universität Berlin.

Featured Photograph: A mine in Kailo in the Congo where they mine wolframite and casserite. Children work with their parents, helping with panning for the ore, carrying and selling goods to the workers (31 October, 2007).

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Securing Financial Markets: UK-Africa Relations after Brexit

By Sophia Price

The recent Commonwealth meeting held in the UK in April has thrust the organisation to the forefront of media attention in the UK, prompted by the treatment of the Windrush generation. Revelations about a highly racialized policy framework that operates to deny certain Commonwealth citizens their rights countered the pro-Brexit narrative of a special and valued partnership between the UK and its former colonies.

This narrative placed the Commonwealth at the forefront of a particular political vision of the post-Brexit future; one in which a resurgent Britain re-establishes what it had lost through its membership of the EU. Within this the Commonwealth has been (erroneously) constructed as a betrayed and neglected partner, forsaken for relations with European neighbours, but one which will be rediscovered and rejuvenated through the UK’s exit from the EU (See Murray-Evans 2016 and Langan 2016). This post-Brexit UK-Commonwealth partnership has been idealised as the means to delivering shared economic and political gains, abstracted from the violence of its colonial history and relations of subordination and domination on which it rests.

While this Brexit narrative is arguably more of an overture to non-African Commonwealth States, such as Australia, Canada and India, which the UK is particularly eager to conclude free trade agreements with, the reshaping of UK-Africa relations is also prioritised. It is undoubted that Brexit will have a fundamental impact these relations, and there is much focus on whether the UK can ‘cut and paste’ the controversial and highly contested Economic Partnership Agreements the EU has long been trying to conclude with regional groupings in Africa, into the UK’s own post-Brexit trade regime. There is currently little public debate about the desirability of wholescale trade liberalisation between Africa and the UK, although groups such as the Trade Justice Movement are pressing to ensure these processes are at least subject to democratic accountability and consideration by Parliament.

Since its accession to the EU in the early 1970s, UK trade and aid relations with Africa have been conducted both through the EU and in concert with EU policies. This allowed the UK to collectivise the costs of maintaining its relations with its former colonies, which was particularly important in times of crisis and economic malaise, while at the same time providing for the expansion of its arena of interest to those African states that had been beyond its colonial reach. The EU-ACP (African, Caribbean and Pacific region) relationship embodied the reconfiguration of these relations into neo–colonial then neoliberal form, operated through a “partnership of (un)equals” characterised by John Ravenhill in 1985 as collective clientelism. This relationship afforded the UK a leading position in emergent European and global development frameworks. Its exit from the EU therefore places both the position of UK interests in Africa and its leadership role as a development actor in jeopardy. It is in this context we should view the publication of the Department for International Development’s (DFID) first post-Brexit Economic Development Strategy, published in January 2017.

Although the role of the UK’s Secretary of State for International Development has changed hands, the new incumbent, Penny Mordaunt, signaled the continuity of purpose in her statement this April which emphasised the centrality of private finance and the City of London in both helping to attract private investment to the Commonwealth and in developing capacity to insure against risk in nascent capital markets. This has been marked by the new partnership between the London Stock Exchange and the Nairobi Securities Exchange, ahead of other partnerships between the Bank of England and central banks in Sierra Leone, Ghana and South Africa. Such partnerships are designed to facilitate the development of financial markets and the associated regulatory and institutional frameworks, dressed in the language of expertise sharing, risk reduction, sustainability and growth.

The announcement by Mordaunt not only underlines the emphasis placed on the role of private finance in DFID’s Economic Development Strategy (2017) but also the important role and unique position the British state has in facilitating the expansion of markets for finance. As the report states,  ‘As one of the world’s largest capital markets and a global centre for financial expertise, the UK has a central role to play in channeling private capital to developing economies.’ The Commonwealth Development Corporation (CDC), the government’s private equity arm, has been tasked within this strategy to act as a conduit for channeling UK government funds into Africa and other former colonies, whilst at the same time securing returns on that investment. Within the policy mantra of ensuring “value for money” the expansion of financial markets is promised to ‘open the door to a future free from aid dependency’ and the win-win of ‘doing good in the world’ whilst ensuring high returns on investments (see UK Government 2018).

This is particularly important in a domestic context where the provision of development aid has come under sustained attack from the right-wing press and sections of the Conservative party, coupled with revelations about the behaviour of (mainly white, middle aged, male) employees of leading NGOs heavily involved in the delivery and management of aid projects and in the policy process itself. The increased reliance on investment vehicles such as the CDC to ‘do good in Africa’ however relies on turning a blind eye to the evidence of its use of tax havens, its connections to labour rights abuses and the appropriation and enclosure of land in processes of capital accumulation as witnessed in its involvement in the palm oil company Feronia Inc in the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) (see War on Want reports  here and  here).

While the decision to leave the EU was unexpected and has presented a moment of extreme uncertainty both domestically and internationally, UK policy makers have been quick to seize this as an opportunity to recast the UK’s global position. With the repatriation of competences formerly pooled at the European level, notably in the areas of trade and international development, UK policy, its relations with Africa and other members of the Commonwealth are being strategically positioned to secure the UK’s post-Brexit competitiveness and the centrality of the City of London to global financial markets.  As has been seen with trade policy, however this marks an ongoing commitment to global neo-liberalism rather than a retreat from it.

Sophia Price is Head of Politics and International Relations at Leeds Beckett University and a Senior Fellow of the Higher Education Academy. Price is currently conducting research on the EU’s External Relations with West Africa, and West African Microfinance Programmes.

Featured Photograph: UK Foreign Secretary Philip Hammond and South African Minister of International Relations and Cooperation Maite Nkoana-Mashsabane at the 11th UK – South Africa Bilateral Forum in London, in October 2015.

Decolonising Intervention: International Donors and Mozambique

By Meera Sabaratnam

Things look different, depending on where you stand.

This is a simple proposition, but one which, if pursued a little further, deeply challenges dominant approaches to social science, many of which are premised on ignoring or denying the partial character of the social-scientific gaze.

I don’t disagree with the ambition per se of attempting to de-parochialise our own understanding of a phenomenon through deep and wide-ranging research; indeed this is what I love about being a researcher. Furthermore, just because things look different depending on where you stand, does not mean you cannot learn more about something, or learn to understand it better. I do not reject the possibility of a better and wider understanding just because points of departure are always partial.

Yet, the first step for studying complex social phenomena must be a recognition of and a grappling with this proposition.

Beyond this, various feminist, anti-colonial and Marxist thinkers have advanced a further proposition: that power relations can be better understood when you look at them ‘from below’, i.e. from the perspective of the disempowered parties.

This stems from the idea that relations of power put different cognitive demands on people by virtue of that relationship.

Patricia Hill Collins for example points out that domestic labourers must acquire an intimacy both with the ways of thinking of their employers/masters, and with their own sense of how to navigate and survive in this system.

And W.E.B. Du Bois famously drew attention to what many continue to call ‘double consciousness’ – that is, the idea that African-Americans had to apprehend and negotiate the racist negations of mainstream American society, whilst simultaneously cultivating a distinctive intellectual tradition.

If they are right, then scholars engaging with relations of power from any field of study – and particularly in the field of ‘political science’ – should be especially interested in the perspectives and experiences of the relatively disempowered as a point of departure for analysis.

In and of itself, such orientation to research does not complete the tasks of scholarship. The presentation of analysis and interpretation are also duties of the researcher and will be influenced by their perspectives and beliefs, and so we are back to the inescapability of the opening proposition.

Yet, the researcher working in good faith must listen to and hear things which they did not know and did not expect and must deal with questions of conflicting interpretation. Yet the writing can become itself a space for amplifying interpretations and ideas which are conventionally suppressed, and through this, the hope is that we can move towards a deeper and better understanding of different phenomena.

The other hope is, of course, that espoused by all ‘critical’ scholarship – that by challenging forms of received wisdom or analysis one may challenge the unjust distributions of power that underpin them.  

***

My book, Decolonising Intervention: International Statebuilding in Mozambique, attempts such a study, with regard to post-war international state-building in Mozambique. The point of the book is to develop an analysis of these practices rooted in the interpretations and perspectives of the targets (i.e. intended beneficiaries) of this intervention.

The first two chapters in the book focus on questions of analysis and method.

In the first of these, I argue that Eurocentric habits of analysis have characterised much of even the critical literature on international statebuilding, focusing principally on the interveners and tending to obstruct the interpretations and viewpoints of the targets of intervention. In the second chapter, I lay out decolonising strategies for re-thinking the analysis and perspectives of disempowered parties within the research. These advocate an engagement with the historical presence, political consciousness and material conditions of such parties. They are informed by feminist standpoint arguments about the character of social-scientific knowledge and methods.

There are then three chapters which analyse specific aspects of international state-building in Mozambique through the perspectives and experiences of its targets.

The first examines the state under state-building, through a particular focus on the health sector. The analysis narrates the continual un-building of the state through intervention rather than building of the state. Practices of intervention produce centrifugal rather than centripetal tendencies overall. The character of ‘innovative’ interventions is repetitive, and policy promises and ideas go regularly unfulfilled. This is all wholly unsurprising to the targets who are very aware of the interacting structural phenomena of ‘protagonismo’ and dependency, that both characterise and explain the aid relationship. Whereas ‘protagonismo’ represents the perceived need by donors to continually re-insert themselves into the processes and narratives of state-building, dependency relations explain why they cannot be substantially resisted even where it is painfully obvious that they are dysfunctional.

Next, I look at the political economy of agriculture and the attempts to ‘develop’ it since the end of the war in 1992. As the targets of intervention are well aware, this has been largely without major investment at the level of farmers, focusing on small shifts in producer practice (e.g. sowing seeds in a straight line) without the infrastructure or resources for wider transformation (e.g. tractors). Alternatively, it has been through the encouragement to produce cash crops for unreliable markets, again without adequate infrastructure, which can pose a more serious risk to food and land. The analysis is systematically one of both disappointment and the opportunity costs entailed in becoming part of these systems; a sense that the producers themselves are a disposable part of the intervention process. Yet agricultural policy continues to be a space where various policies and strategies circulate, and money is spent, without remaining in the state or reaching its target farmers.

Finally, the book examines the politics of anti-corruption in Mozambique. For many Mozambicans, corruption was not a widespread phenomenon until the arrival of international aid in the 1990s and the forms of capitalist transformation brought with it, including but not limited to privatisation opportunities for the elite and the kinds of international lifestyles and transformations of the capital and other cities. Beyond donor-sponsored ‘good governance’ discourse, Mozambicans have a rich historical vocabulary around public service, greed, appetite and consumption that highlights the voracious character of personal predation, ‘savage capitalism’ and the aid machine. Indeed, such sensibilities draw attention to the heavily constrained nature of ‘good governance’ discourse as a means of contesting corruption.

From these points of departure, I argue that the implicit research question ‘why does intervention fail?’ changes to ‘why does intervention keep failing, despite its well-known challenges?’

The conclusions then weave together the analytic narratives developed within the research with the ‘coloniality of power’ framework proposed by Anibal Quijano and Walter Mignolo. The latter argues that power in the modern world is foundationally structured by a colonial asymmetry of being – relations of colonial difference – which produce differentiated forms of entitlement, status, obligation and presence.

I argue that these concepts offer, in comparison to existing analyses of state-building, a better explanatory framework which both helps describe the political and operational structure of interventions and their continued, repeated failure as engines of material and political uplift. On this reading, the failure is endemic to the hierarchical political relations (i.e. relations of colonial difference) in which the aid relationship is embedded.

The analysis suggests that ‘better state-building’ and ‘better aid’ can therefore not be achieved without some fundamental re-thinking of the problem of colonial difference.

Some prospective forms of redress are deceptively simple – they would simply require would-be donors to actually observe already-signed agreements about principles of aid, to stop systems of preferential subsidies to their own producers, to stop facilitating the laundering of public funds in Western financial institutions and the creation of illegal debts. Yet, more deeply, they require an ethics of solidarity and responsibility in aid that is egalitarian, respectful and reparative around the question of the ‘colonial wound’.

Meera Sabaratnam is Lecturer in International Relations at SOAS, University of London. Her research focuses on practices of international state-building and development, decolonizing theory and methods, global history, southern Africa and the Indian Ocean.

This is a post on Meera Sabaratnam’s recent book Decolonising Intervention: International Statebuilding in Mozambique, which was published by Rowman and Littlefield last year (2017). It is available as an open access *free* PDF download here, thanks to research funding from SOAS. If tweeting, please use the hashtag #DecolonisingIntervention.

 

Photo Gallery: Dar es Salaam, 16-17 April 2018

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The editorial team of the Review of African Political Economy (ROAPE) recently organized the second of three workshops, held in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania on the theme of ‘Imperialism in Africa Today: The Place of Class Struggles and Progressive Politics’. The Dar es Salaam workshop was organised under the auspices of the Julius Nyerere Resource Centre at the University of Dar es Salaam Convocation. Over two days the discussions  were concerned not simply with an academic analysis of what is happening on the ground, but informed by political and social activism focused on what is to be done. This page displays images from the workshop taken by Jörg Wiegratz and Ray Bush.

 

Africa’s Left: An Undying Consciousness

By Takura Zhangazha

The editorial team of a legendary academic/activist journal the Review of African Political Economy (ROAPE) recently organized a workshop in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania.  Themed ‘Imperialism in Africa Today: The Place of Class Struggles and Progressive Politics’, it was a workshop that was always going to capture the attention of many pan-African and Africa based socialists. 

It was a workshop that had as its primary intention an historical assessment of the state of Africa’s liberation and ideological liberatory left and its place in contemporary anti-global neoliberal and anti-imperialist politics.  With a direct intention of discussing the future of pan-Africanism, socialism and how to counter contemporary imperialism. 

I agreed to attend the workshop largely because of my own leftist political persuasions but also because of the evident need to revive pan-Africanist and socialist alternatives to the current regrettable dominance of contemporary African political and economic discourse by neo-liberalism. ROAPE has long played this role. In the words of the long-standing Tanzanian socialist Issa Shivji, ROAPE was never meant to be entirely academic but predominantly activist in intent and result. It was established to help inform not only socialist strategy during liberation struggles but later on in countering contemporary neoliberal political and economic narratives.  

Linking the past with the present remains of vital importance, which ROAPE can still help us to do. A journal and website which has a radical left perspective on the political economy of the continent that has spanned the liberation struggle decades, and post-independence optimism that remained, even if only in academic practice for a time, committed to a people-centred and socialist optimism of a better life for all on the continent and in the world.  

ROAPE therefore has come to represent the link between the organic intellectual and the organic activist.  Hence most liberation struggle icons would find their way to the journal at the height of the struggle or in explaining their post-independence projects and impasses. This is one reason why so many of our struggle luminaries (Nyerere, Cabral, Nkomo, Machingura, Saul among others) would feature either by way of their own writing or analysis of the same in the journal’s pages. 

But more significantly, ROAPE has also spent many decades analysing Africa from a socialist perspective and in respect to how socialism was/is the founding ideology of African liberation. Therefore, it was essential that the starting point for the workshop were the October 1917 Russian revolution as well as the Arusha Declaration of 1967 as authored by Julius Nyerere of Tanzania (both of these events were debated in a particularly rich panel discussion at the workshop).  These two global historical departure points (Russia 1917 and Africa 1967) are indelible in the history of Africa’s struggles against imperialism both in its past and contemporary forms. One representing genesis and the other a ‘textual’ idealism for a better future for all.  The significance of both events as models for African liberation and post-independence futures were discussed in detail by participants.

For two days of debate in Dar es Salaam it was the African context of struggle and revolution that was an important and salient reminder of the history of the struggles against imperialism and an unrepentant global capital. 

Even though I had not until the Dar es Salaam workshop been involved in ROAPE activities, I understood full well the urgency and importance of keeping the pan-Africanist and socialist counter-narrative, in academic terms and counter-hegemonic alternative in activist terms, alive. 

New perspectives emerged from the workshop on the state of Africa’s left; I was nudged into remembering how we, as Africans and people with an evident sympathy toward the global left, are quick to forget our past in favour of a catastrophic neoliberal perspective when we should be proffering progressive alternatives.  Both from an academic perspective as well as a leftist/socialist activism. 

From an academic perspective and as informed by the values of ROAPE, I have come to a firm appreciation that Africa’s socialists must never abandon the pursuit of academic knowledge as it relates to socialism and people-centred democratic solutions.  But, as the workshop reminds us, this always requires linking up with colleagues and comrades in the global north who also require acts of solidarity from those of us in the global south. 

Even beyond this solidarity, I also realized that context always matters and that while socialism is still a credible global alternative it must resist dogma.  Participants restated that our arguments for progressive change must always be contextualized and utilised to enhance a national and continentally grounded and progressive leftist consciousness.  

In discussing the activism of the left at the workshop, it was reinstated that there is always a need to organically link older generations of activists with younger ones. To ensure that knowledge is passed on between more experienced activists and younger but more enthusiastic ones. This knowledge is not just in the form of what texts to study but what strategies and tactics need to be applied in today to keep the original vision of African liberation alive among younger generations. The workshop demonstrated a need for greater inclusive conversations between younger and older socialists on what a present-day way forward should look like. As informed by the past and contemporary realities the overriding theme of the workshop was ‘another world is possible’. 

During the workshop, as an activist I also came to terms with some of the most difficult elements of Africa’s contemporary struggle against neo-liberalism – one of survival.  Whereas in the struggles against direct colonialism there was an element of self-sacrifice, in contemporary times it has become more difficult to sustain activist work and practice. The neoliberal hegemonic onslaught in African societies makes a greater majority of our people feel hopeless and can make for pessimistic reading and analysis in some elite and academic circles.  Yet, as we discussed during the two-day symposium, the intellectual reality of the matter is that we have not thought hard enough about the means and methods to counter these seemingly dominant narratives.

It was towards these purposes, questions and issues, that ROAPE convened the workshop. Two key objectives were achieved. Firstly, maintaining the socialist/leftist intellectual and activist fire burning beyond the crass neoliberal materialism that is creeping into African (and global) consciousness. Secondly, recalling the historical departure points for all progressive movements that were the 1917 Russian revolution against global capitalism and the revolutionary Arusha Declaration of early 1967.

Drawing from the intellectualism and organic activism of the past, fusing it with the energy and impatience of the more youthful participants at the workshop, we began to work out newer approaches that exploit the self-destructive contradictions of neoliberal capitalism for Africa and the world.

The continual questioning into the reality of imperialism, its current manifestations on the continent and the nature of class struggle remains important.  Not only because of what Trevor Ngwane of South Africa, one of the participants at the workshop, called the Spirit of Marikana but more significantly because with greater concerted socialist intellectual and activist effort we can indeed raise our minds and fists to claim, as in the past, that ‘another socialist world is possible’.

Thank you Dar es Salaam. Asante Sana.

Takura Zhangazha is a Zimbabwean civil society activist who has worked in the field of media freedom and also within broader social movements. He is currently a member of a Zimbabwean social movement, the Committee of the Peoples Charter. A version of this blogpost was originally posted here.

Featured Photograph: Issa Shivji speaking at the ROAPE Dar es Salaam workshop, 16-17 April (Jörg Wiegratz).

Visions of Transformation: Oliver Tambo and Chris Hani

Secretary General of the South African Communist Party Chris Hani was killed at his home in surburban Johannesburg April 10. Photo taken December 1991

By Alexander Beresford

April marks the 25th anniversary of the deaths of Oliver Tambo and Chris Hani. While Tambo is often portrayed as an archetypal ANC moderate, Hani is popularly characterised as a revolutionary who bore the flame of a more radical vision for majority government.

Critically, however, both men supported the negotiated path to power and their very co-existence within the liberation movement points to one of the fundamental pillars of its longevity during the struggle period: its capacity to sustain multiple, competing ideological tendencies while crowding out the political space for alternatives to emerge.

This formed part of what I call the ‘sticky’ nationalism of the ANC – its ability to draw in and bind a broad array of social forces to its banner while also making it hard for them to peel away from the movement to mount a challenge to its hegemony.

Sadly, neither Tambo nor Hani lived to experience and confront the contradictions and crises generated by the ANC’s transformation into a party of government. This has profoundly altered the nature of the ANC’s approach to drawing toward it that range of social forces that are essential to its long-term future.

In this blogpost I will briefly outline two elements that contribute to the continued but changing “stickiness” of the ANC’s nationalist politics. First, the establishment of the ANC as a central gateway of resource distribution. Second, its continued effort to sustain a position as the political centre of South African politics through ideological gatekeeping.

The ANC as a centre of resource distribution

While a great deal of our attention is rightly drawn to South Africa’s vibrant civil society and the politics of protest, a great deal less scholarship is dedicated to researching and understanding arguably South Africa’s largest social movement – the ANC – and its position within the complex environment of post-apartheid society.

It might be less sexy to study than the loud politics of protest and resistance, but the reality is that while ‘insurgent’ citizens, movements and unions are an important and prevalent feature of South African politics, so too is the understudied, quiet and unassuming politics which contributes to the everyday acquiescence to ANC rule.

Understanding this quiet politics is critical to understanding the diffuse power of the ANC and the ‘sticky’ nature of its nationalist hegemony.

This quiet politics is to be found in the ways in which the structural violence of capitalism, racism and patriarchy is navigated by ordinary citizens. It can be located in the slow tedium of ANC branch meetings, where members and citizens alike arrive to lobby for the transformation that they and their communities are so dependent upon. This can evoke a personalised politics in which individuals and/or communities access jobs, housing or other vital public goods, not through impersonal state institutions, but through private networks connecting the dependent client to powerful party patrons. Seen in this light, engagement with the party and its local gatekeepers is not necessarily a political choice but a practical necessity for traversing a deeply inequitable society.

However, the ANC’s governance also entails a more formalised type of patronage. It can be found in the ways social grants serve to forge bonds of dependency between desperately deprived citizens and the ANC state. While such grants are often inadequate, and many experience difficulties accessing them, James Ferguson is right to highlight how they offer a tangible output in the absence of structural transformation. As Susan Booysen notes, this affords the ANC a paternalistic aura – an image that the ANC itself propagates through its continuous ideological positioning of the party as a vanguard of popular aspirations.

The bonds of dependency that these forms of patronage augment between citizen and the ANC state therefore contribute to the sticky politics of the ANC’s nationalism: they serve to reify the appearance of the ANC state as the ultimate patron to be petitioned for change. In this context, lobbying a local ANC branch or petitioning a powerful patron within the party are important forms of political agency that are often overlooked amid our fixations on protests and insurgent politics.

Ideological gatekeeping

This does not make the ANC immune to challengers, however. South Africa is now the most unequal country in the world in terms of income inequality, while unemployment and poverty remain high.

When confronted with resistance, the ANC has in some cases sought to employ a form of political abjection: ‘a sustained political strategy where in response to protests and dissent, sections of civil society are singled out and discursively elevated in their significance—usually well beyond their aspirations or material potential—as attempting to stir up frustrations and launch a broader offensive against the democratic state.’ In such circumstances, this reflects an effort to act as an ideological gatekeeper: striving as best they can to control access to the legitimate political marketplace, mediating which groups can legitimately contend for power and which are to be considered politically abject – a threat to the national interest potentially warranting illiberal sanction.

This can be witnessed in attempts to brand protest movements – such as the #feesmustfall protests – as hostile, foreign-inspired agendas. Government ministers and senior ANC officials lined up to denounce what they argued to be a ‘third force’ leading students astray and promoting a ‘white supremacist’ agenda. Similar accusations have been leveled at striking workers outside of the Alliance fold, with senior ANC figures and ANC discussion documents bemoaning the growth of an ‘anti-majoritarian offensive’ threatening South Africa’s democracy. In the case of the Marikana, ANC discussion documents argued that the police response was a reflection of the way the democratic state was being ‘goaded’ into defending itself.

These kinds of discourses have also been deployed to discredit critical journalists and opposition parties in order to divert political focus away from the shortcomings of the ANC government. For example, business elites allied to former president Jacob Zuma employed public relations firm Bell Pottinger, which launched a controversial social media campaign that aggravated racial tensions by blaming ‘white monopoly capital’ for the country’s ills, while discursively constructing those critical of Zuma and his allies as being symptomatic of a nefarious white minority politics (see Guardian, September 5, 2017).

Significantly, these discourses are also used to try and close down internal dissent by raising the ‘exit’ costs of leaving the liberation movement. For example, during NUMSA’s long exit from COSATU and its emergence as a political challenger to the ANC, union leaders supporting NUMSA were derided as forming part of a ‘counter revolutionary’ or ‘anti-majoritarian’ struggle bent on destabilising South Africa, overthrowing the democratically elected ANC, and disenfranchising ‘the masses.’

As I’ve argued elsewhere, these discourses are significant because ‘they reveal the continued (albeit defensive) potency of post-liberation nationalism: they serve to blur the fault lines between nationalist and class politics by contesting who can speak on behalf of ‘the workers’ and with what authority. In so doing, these discourses seek to render the politics of class and nationalist politics indissoluble, highlighting the ‘sticky’ nature of post-liberation nationalism.’

Could the ANC become unstuck?

Chris Hani and Oliver Tambo held very different visions for what transformation in South Africa ought to look like, but both found accommodation within the ANC’s broad-church ethos and its commitment to forging a democratic society.

However, both men would have found accommodation within ex-president Zuma’s ANC a challenge. Patronage politics and corruption have generated internecine factionalism within the ANC and the wider alliance, compromising the substantive quality of internal ideological contestation within the movement while also undermining its capacity to govern effectively.

Clearly, the use of patrimonial mechanisms of distributing resources, coupled with these forms of ideological gatekeeping, sit uneasily alongside the ANC’s long-standing commitment to democratic institutions and a politics of tolerance and non-racialism.

And yet, these are fiercely contested dynamics within the movement itself, and the ANC’s recent developments offer hope that some of these ‘tendencies’ will now be challenged.

The extent to which the ANC can regenerate the quality of its internal debate will determine its capacity to govern and to renew itself ideologically. This in turn will determine its capacity to draw in and bind to it the social forces it needs to reproduce its hegemony. Despite our scholarly fascination with protests and insurgents, I would argue the reality remains that the ‘stickiness’ of ANC nationalism will, for the foreseeable future, mean that the party’s internal contestation will continue to define the political landscape in South Africa.

Some of the arguments in this blog were first developed in my book, South Africa’s Political Crisis, and in a recent article with Marie Berry and Laura Mann ‘Liberation movements and stalled democratic transitions: Reproducing power in Rwanda and South Africa through productive liminality’ in Democratization’ (forthcoming).

Alexander Beresford is Associate Professor in African politics at the University of Leeds and a Senior Research Associate at the Centre for Social Change at the University of Johannesburg. He is a member of the Editorial Working Group of ROAPE. He has recently published South Africa’s Political Crisis: Unfinished liberation and fractured class struggles Palgrave: Basingstoke.

 

Towards a Broader Theory of Imperialism

By Patrick Bond

Two leading critics of imperialism – John Smith and David Harvey – have recently fought bitterly on roape.net on over how to interpret geographically-shifting processes of super-exploitation. The risk is that they obscure crucial features of their joint wrath: the unjust accumulation processes and geopolitics that enrich the wealthy and despoil the world environment. Another leading Marxist, Claudio Katz, has recently reminded us of one such feature that deserves far more attention: Rau Mauro Marini’s 1960s-70s theory of subimperialism, which fuses imperial and semi-peripheral agendas of power and accumulation with internal processes of super-exploitation.

The concept of subimperialism can resolve some of the Smith-Harvey disputes. Smith’s book Imperialism in the 21st Century has as its foundation this formula:

the imperialist division of the world into oppressed and oppressor nations has shaped the global working class, central to which is the violent suppression of international labour mobility. Just as the infamous pass-laws epitomised apartheid in South Africa, so do immigration controls form the lynch-pin of an apartheid-like global economic system that systematically denies citizenship and basic human rights to the workers of the South and which, as in apartheid-era South Africa, is a necessary condition for their super-exploitation.[1]

This is a start, but a rounded Marxist-feminist-ecological-race-conscious critique of imperialism needs a stronger foundation. Smith’s problems begin with the South Africa metaphor and extend to the unconvincing binary of oppressed and oppressor nations, whose main shortcoming is that it underplays national ruling classes aspiring to shift from the former to the latter. The analysis also fails to incorporate aspects of ‘deglobalisation’ that are increasingly apparent in this conjuncture (even before the Trump trade war fully breaks out and current financial market mini-crashes lead to another generalised meltdown). Neglect of multilateral power relations and geopolitical bloc formation also characterises the partly-sterile, partly-inspiring debate that Smith strikes up with Harvey in his 2016 book Imperialism in the Twenty-First Century, in Monthly Review Online in 2017 and now on roape.net, the Review of African Political Economy’s website in January-March 2018.[2]

“This is the most vital component: the displacement of over-accumulated capital into geographically-dispersed sites, especially the BRICS, and the re-deployment of this capital into even more super-exploitative sites of surplus extraction

The missing links in contributions from both Smith and Harvey relate to processes of subimperial accumulation and class struggle, especially at a time that so-called global governance (multilateralism) has successfully assimilated the potential challenge by the main bloc of semi-peripheral countries: Brazil, Russia, India, China and South Africa (the BRICS). To be sure, this category was at least briefly deployed by Harvey (in his 2003 book The New Imperialism):

The opening up of global markets in both commodities and capital created openings for other states to insert themselves into the global economy, first as absorbers but then as producers of surplus capitals. They then became competitors on the world stage. What might be called ‘subimperialisms’ arose … Each developing centre of capital accumulation sought out systematic spatio-temporal fixes for its own surplus capital by defining territorial spheres of influence.[3]

This is the most vital component: the displacement of over-accumulated capital into geographically-dispersed sites, especially the BRICS, and the re-deployment of this capital into even more super-exploitative sites of surplus extraction, as Marini had projected, including the extractive industries of Africa – although not without debilitating contradictions that must be raised forthrightly. Hence a slightly renovated system for global management of these contradictions has also emerged, even if downplayed by Smith and Harvey in this recent debate.[4]

“The multilateral ‘reforms’ promoted by subimperial powers extend their own corporations’ accumulation and displace their own class, social and ecological backlashes – again albeit with profound contradictions.”

In short, the power structures of global neoliberalism seamlessly drew in the BRICS over the past decade, especially in relation to world finance (during the 2010-15 International Monetary Fund reform era), trade (at the World Trade Organisation in 2015) and climate policies (at the United Nations from 2009-15). The multilateral ‘reforms’ promoted by subimperial powers extend their own corporations’ accumulation and displace their own class, social and ecological backlashes – again albeit with profound contradictions. And there are few places where these kinds of processes are more obvious than here in South Africa.

Apartheid’s complex geography of super-exploitation

First, any South African metaphor needs more nuance than the typical white-black super-exploitation narrative. The apartheid system super-exploited workers, not merely by denying citizenship and basic human rights at the point of production. There were also profound geographical relationships: urban segregation (the “Group Areas Act” regulating residency); national and regional scales of migrancy regulated by the Pass Laws and Southern African military-enforced political power over labour supplies; and South Africa’s role in the global division of labour and geopolitics.[5] These all allowed the supply of black bodies to serve not only transnational corporations, but also locally-grounded processes of capital accumulation (e.g. the Oppenheimer and Rupert family fortunes), class formation, racism, gendered power relations and ecological stress.[6]

Smith’s point here, correct but incomplete, is that apartheid supplied labour power below the cost of reproduction across what is normally a worker’s life-cycle: the childhood rearing of workers is in a typical advanced capitalist country subsidised by day-care centres and schools; their illnesses and injuries are covered by medical aid systems whether public or private; and their retirement expenses are the result of savings, pensions and social security, all supported by employer programmes or taxation of corporations. During apartheid’s prime, none of these aspects of social reproduction were provided to black workers. That left women in the homelands to look after retired workers, sick workers and pre-workers – children – aside from the few schools run by religious missions. As a result, corporations paid much lower taxes and benefits. Indeed, they enjoyed super-profits, amongst the world’s highest, until the system began to experience severe stresses during the 1970s.[7]

“Like the old Bantustan tribal warlords which the Pretoria regime promoted to power, there is now a global-scale buffer elite emerging which the imperial powers generally find useful in terms of legitimation, financial subsidisation and deputy-sheriff duty – even when anti-imperial rhetoric becomes an irritant”

Smith uses the apartheid metaphor properly at a rudimentary level, insofar as the migrant relationship witnessed tens of millions of black male workers moving (11 out of 12 months each year) to the white-controlled and spatially-delineated cities, mines and plantations, as ‘temporary sojourners’ on the stolen land. But he might have pointed out that payment for their labour power below the cost of its reproduction was subsidised by the oppression of women displaced to rural areas by apartheid and regional colonialism, with consequent stresses to local ecologies – often to the point of breakdown and the formal destruction of the once self-sufficient peasantry. (In the Marxist literatures on South Africa’s “articulations of modes production”[8] and its “uneven and combined development”,[9] this geographical aspect of super-exploitation is a central theme, although in both literatures more could still be done to draw out the gendered and environmental aspects.)[10]

What Smith does not consider properly either in this case or globally, was the obvious political relationship between the Pretoria regime and its patrimonial allies. This relationship assured a broader systemic reproduction of cheap labour in both the internal Bantustans[11] and the neighbouring colonial and later neo-colonial regimes which facilitated this super-exploitative labour relationship until 1994. To write of apartheid simply as a racialised capital-labour relationship, without these gendered aspects, or the ecological stress associated with Bantustan overcrowding, or the overarching state apparatus that arranged and maintained super-exploitation, is to leave out the bulk of the story. Also, in the process, such neglect implicitly negates a major part of the anti-apartheid resistance movement.

Today, South Africa’s rejuvenated (post-1994) modes of super-exploitation deserve similar attention. Strong signals about new varieties of super-exploitation, including within a usurious micro-credit system, were sent in August 2012 at Marikana, a two-hour drive northwest of Johannesburg. There, three dozen migrant mineworkers were shot dead and scores more seriously wounded, many crippled for life; they were amongst four thousand engaged in a wildcat strike against Lonmin platinum corporation, demanding $1000/month for rock-drilling. They were treated by police as “dastardly criminals” at the explicit (emailed) request of Cyril Ramaphosa, who was the London firm’s main local owner. In 2014 he became Deputy President and in February 2018 replaced Zuma as president in a palace coup, 15 months before Zuma’s retirement date.

“A profound shortcoming of Imperialism in the 21st Century is Smith’s inability to grapple with the century’s global governance institutions, especially the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) and the G20 and G8 (until 2014, and now G7 without Putin’s Russia). Had he considered these, Smith might have found his way beyond the old-fashioned binary of oppressed and oppressor nations”

Bearing this in mind, Smith’s book makes only a half-hearted effort to scale up the useful apartheid metaphor to the present mode of imperialism. To scale up more convincingly requires, in my view, extension of Harvey’s conceptual apparatus to the level of subimperial power relations that are so well personified by Ramaphosa. Like the old Bantustan tribal warlords which the Pretoria regime promoted to power, there is now a global-scale buffer elite emerging which the imperial powers generally find useful in terms of legitimation, financial subsidisation and deputy-sheriff duty – even when anti-imperial rhetoric becomes an irritant, e.g. as under Zuma’s 2009-18 rule.

From local to global apartheid – adding the BRICS as subimperial ‘Bantustan elites’

Smith utilises the (very convincing) analysis of mining scholar-activist Andrew Higginbottom in which South African apartheid super-exploitation is considered in theoretical terms,[12] and from there he reminds us of powerful aspects of Samir Amin’s Africa-centric dependency theory and Ruy Mauro Marini’s Brazilian-based analysis. Both stress super-exploitation, but both do much more:

  • Amin has always been concerned with the overall geopolitical balance of forces at global scale – not just in terms of South-to-North value transfers – and he regularly takes special care to work out how neoliberal global governance has emerged to accompany Washington’s neoconservative military prowess.[13]
  • Marini focused on the elaboration of subimperial power wielded by states that are incorporated into the Western system as regional agents of imperialism, in which, Smith agrees, “dependent economies like Brazil seek to compensate for the drain of wealth to the imperialist centres by developing their own exploitative relationships with even more underdeveloped and peripheral neighbouring economies.”[14]

 

Smith is correct to remind of these writers’ (and others’) commitment to a “dependency thesis” based on “the reality of the extreme rates of exploitation in Bangladeshi garment factories, Chinese production lines, South African platinum mines, and Brazilian coffee farms.” But aside from the tokenistic nod to Marini – followed immediately by a confession, “not discussed here” – at only one point in the book does Smith consider the ownership and accumulation processes associated with these sites of subimperial surplus value extraction. Sadly though, it comes in a dismissive footnote after he attacks Ellen Wood for:

reducing imperialism to interstate rivalry between great powers before extinguishing it entirely: The “new imperialism [is] no longer … a relationship between imperial masters and colonial subjects but a complex interaction between more or less sovereign states.” Alex Callinicos has the same idea: “The global hierarchy of economic and political power that is a fundamental consequence of the uneven and combined development inherent in capitalist imperialism was not dissolved, but was rather complicated by the emergence of new centres of capital accumulation,” producing what he calls subimperialisms, a broad category that includes Vietnam, Greece, Turkey, India, Pakistan, Iran, Iraq, and South Africa.[15]

Yet Wood’s and Callinicos’ descriptions of power relations are perfectly reasonable, coming at a time of heightened multilateral neoliberal imperialism, as the Clinton-Bush-Obama neolib-neocon era gathered strength and assimilated its opponents. That assimilation process is critical. The main site for it is the global governance process in relation to a variety of political, economic, social and environmental problems. It would be impossible to talk about post-War imperialism without its multilateral economic grounding in the 1944 Bretton Woods System. Indeed, Smith is entirely conscious of the many complicated ways that the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and World Bank, World Trade Organisation (WTO) and United Nations agencies still today manage global imperial power relations to the benefit of major corporations.

“But the sleight of hand here is the ability of local elites – not just Western or BRICS corporations – to accumulate offshore in places like Mauritius (the African continent’s leading hot money centre). This part of the outflow is not a function of ‘imperialism’ but local greed and higher profits gained by an unpatriotic bourgeoisie who can hold funds offshore (even idle), instead of investing in African economies whose currencies are often rapidly declining in value

So why are such arrangements so difficult to conceptualise in the 21st century, at a time Xi Jinping earnestly promotes corporate globalisation against the Trump spectre of retreat from liberalised trade, global climate management and other uses of the U.S. State Department’s soft-power arsenal? A profound shortcoming of Imperialism in the 21st Century is Smith’s inability to grapple with the century’s global governance institutions, especially the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) and the G20 and G8 (until 2014, and now G7 without Putin’s Russia). Had he considered these, Smith might have found his way beyond the old-fashioned binary of oppressed and oppressor nations.

For example, the BRICS bloc’s role in imperialist multilateralism requires careful treatment, yet the bloc gets not one mention by Smith. For context, recall how in 2014 Barack Obama revealed to The Economist his agenda for incorporating China into imperialism’s pseudo-multilateral system.

The Economist: … that is the key issue, whether China ends up inside that [global governance] system or challenging it. That’s the really big issue of our times, I think.

Mr Obama: It is. And I think it’s important for the United States and Europe to continue to welcome China as a full partner in these international norms. It’s important for us to recognise that there are going to be times where there are tensions and conflicts. But I think those are manageable. And it’s my belief that as China shifts its economy away from simply being the low-cost manufacturer of the world to wanting to move up the value chain, then suddenly issues like protecting intellectual property become more relevant to their companies, not just to US companies.[16]

Though Smith ignores the BRICS as either a unit of analysis or marker of ascendant economic power, the bloc’s assimilation into imperialism has amplified unfair and inequitable world order processes, especially when pursuing global finance, trade and climate governance:

  • The IMF’s 2010-15 board restructuring left four of the BRICS much more powerful (e.g. China by 37 percent) but most African countries with a much lower voting share (e.g. Nigeria’s fell by 41 percent and South Africa’s by 21 percent). BRICS directors thrice (in 2011, 2015 and 2016) agreed with Western counterparts to endorse leadership by IMF managing director Christine Lagarde, even though she was prosecuted – and in 2016 declared guilty of negligence – in a €400 million criminal corruption case dating to her years as French finance minister. Moreover, the BRICS €84 billion Contingent Reserve Arrangement strengthens the IMF by compelling borrowers to first get an IMF loan before accessing 70 percent of their quota contributions during times of financial emergencies, while leaders of the BRICS New Development Bank – which has no civil society oversight – brag of co-financing and staff sharing arrangements with the World Bank.
  • The 2015 Nairobi World Trade Organisation summit essentially ended agricultural subsidies and hence food sovereignty thanks to crucial alliances made with Washington and Brussels negotiators, from Brasilia and New Delhi representatives, with China, South Africa and Russia compliant.
  • The 2015 UNFCCC Paris Climate Agreement left Africa without any ‘climate debt’ options against the West and BRICS, since legal claims for signatories’ liability are prohibited. As was prefigured by four of the BRICS’ role (with Obama) in the 2009 Copenhagen Accord, the Paris commitments to emissions cuts are too small and, in any case, non-binding. Military, maritime and air transport emissions are not covered, while carbon markets are endorsed. Thus, climate catastrophe is inevitable, mainly to the benefit of a residual profit stream for high-carbon industries in the rich and middle-income countries.

 

BRICS elites were vital allies of the West in each recent site of global malgovernance, serving power much the way South Africa’s Bantustan leaders did during apartheid. However, the short-term victories such as at the IMF, WTO and UNFCCC that today benefit their neoliberal, pollution-intensive corporations and parastatal agencies come at a difficult time, given deglobalisation processes: the relative decline in trade (even pre-Trump), foreign direct investment (FDI), and cross-border finance measured in relation to GDP. Likewise, the commodity super-cycle’s 2011 peak and then the crash of world minerals and petroleum prices in 2015 not only ended Africa Rising rhetoric. Just as importantly, since there are fewer profits to be had from high prices, many transnational corporations made up for this by increasing the volume of extraction so as to seek a greater mass not rate of profit.

BRICS corporates exemplify super-exploitation

BRICS firms became some of the most super-exploitative corporations engaged in accumulation not only on their home turf but also in Africa. To illustrate the extraction of surpluses, from 2000 to 2014 the value of Africa-BRICS trade rose from $28 billion to $377 billion, before falling in 2015 by 21 percent due to the commodity price crash.[17] The bilateral investment treaties that facilitate these transfers from Africa to the BRICS are just as notoriously one-sided as those with Western powers, according to the main scholar of this problem, Ana Garcia.[18]

“Unfortunately, both Smith and Harvey ignore another vital outflow of poorer countries’ wealth, in the form of non-renewable resources whose extractive value – termed “natural capital” – is not compensated for by reinvestment”

To take the example of Mozambique, Carlos Castel-Branco shows how its rulers aimed for “maximisation of inflows of foreign capital – FDI or commercial loans – without political conditionality” (much of which came from the BRICS as well as Portugal) in a super-exploitative context: “the reproduction of a labour system in which the workforce is remunerated at below its social cost of subsistence and families have to bear the responsibility for maintaining (especially feeding) the wage-earning workers by complementing their wages,” a common phenomenon across the continent.

While there may occasionally be an exception,[19] consider a few of the most egregious examples involving the BRICS:

  • Brazil’s major subimperial construction firm Odebrecht admitted paying bribes of $51 million to officials in Angola and Mozambique (but the actual amounts are likely to be much higher), and both Odebrecht and the world’s second-largest mining company, Rio-based Vale, have faced regular protests over mass displacement at construction projects and coal-mining operations in Tete, Mozambique, as has the Brazilian government (dating to Workers Party rule) over its ProSavana corporate-agriculture land-grab.[20]
  • Russia’s Rosatom nuclear reactor deals across Africa – in South Africa, Egypt, Ghana, Nigeria and Zambia – are increasingly dubious, especially after the only country with an existing nuclear reactor, South Africa, witnessed an intense debate due in part to widespread corruption at the implementing agency (Eskom). As a result of growing fiscal crisis, the Rosatom deal appears to have fallen away.
  • Indian companies in Africa have been especially exploitative, led by Vedanta chief executive Anil Agarwal – caught bragging to investors of having bought the continent’s largest copper mine for just $25 million after fibbing to Zambian president Levy Mwanawasa and each year returning $500 million to $1 billion in revenues. ArcelorMittal’s Lakshmi Mittal’s major African steel operation, South Africa’s former state-owned ISCOR, was accused by even Pretoria’s trade minister of milking the operations. Jindal’s super-exploitative arrangements in Mozambique and South Africa are regularly criticised. But the most egregious state and private sector mode of accumulation by Indian capital in Africa must be the combination of the Gupta brothers and (state-owned) Bank of Baroda, whose corruption of South Africa’s ruling political elite led first to massive looting of the public sector (and illicit financial flows via Bank of Baroda) and then the fall of Jacob Zuma and allied politicians, as well as other South African and international firms caught up in the Gupta web (including western corporations Bell Pottinger, KPMG, McKinsey and SAP).
  • Chinese firms – both state-owned and private – have been accused of major financial, human rights, labour and environmental abuses in Africa, perhaps most spectacularly in the case of Sam Pa whose operations included mining diamonds in eastern Zimbabwe. In 2016, even President Robert Mugabe alleged that of $15 billion in revenues, only $2 billion were accounted for, in mines mainly controlled by the local military and Chinese companies. (In late 2017, coup leader Constantino Chiwenga travelled to Beijing and received permission from the Chinese military to proceed with Mugabe’s overthrow). In South Africa, the China South Rail Corporation played a major role in the Gupta corruption ring, in relation to multi-billion dollar locomotive and ship-loading crane contracts with the parastatal railroad Transnet.
  • South African businesses have a record of looting the rest of the continent dating to Cecil Rhodes’ (19th century) British South Africa Company, the Oppenheimer mining empire, and more recently current President Ramaphosa’s pre-2012 chairing of Africa’s largest cell-phone company, MTN. The latter was exposed – along with two other companies he led, Lonmin and Shanduka – in 2014-17 for having offshore accounts in Bermuda and Mauritius used to illicitly remove funds from Africa. South Africa’s corporate elites regularly rank as the most corrupt on earth in the biannual PwC Economic Crimes survey, with one recent report showing that “eight out of ten senior managers commit economic crime.”[21]

 

Once profits are gained in this process, they are systematically removed through accounting techniques as misinvoicing and other tax dodges. Illicit financial flows that accompany FDI, Smith observes, are Net Resource Transfers (NRT) “from poor countries to imperialist countries in 2012 exceeded $3 trillion.” Specifically, the NRTs from Africa “to imperialist countries (or tax havens licensed by them) between 1980 to 2012 totalled $792 billion” (about $25 billion annually). But the sleight of hand here is the ability of local elites – not just Western or BRICS corporations – to accumulate offshore in places like Mauritius (the African continent’s leading hot money centre). This part of the outflow is not a function of ‘imperialism’ but local greed and higher profits gained by an unpatriotic bourgeoisie who can hold funds offshore (even idle), instead of investing in African economies whose currencies are often rapidly declining in value.[22] South Africa’s peaked at R6.3/$ in 2011 but fell to R17.9/$ in 2016 before recovering to the R12/$ range recently.

“That China and India are now the most important purchasers of Africa’s raw materials requires a rethinking of the ways super-exploitation of labour and environmental destruction are being amplified by capitalism’s widening out from the historic European, U.S. and Japanese core”

Naturally the City of London, Wall Street and Zurich are crucial sites for parking illicit flows. But so too are the BRICS. The United Nations Economic Commission for Africa estimated that $319 billion was transferred illicitly from Africa during the commodity super-cycle, from 2001 to 2010. The United States was the leading single destination at $50 billion; but China, India, and Russia were responsible for $59 billion (Brazil is not recorded in the top 17 and South Africa is not included).[23]

One of Smith’s rebuttals is that China is also a victim of illicit financial outflows, not just a villain. This is true, for capital flight is one reason China’s peak $4 trillion in foreign reserves in 2013 fell to $3.3 trillion by 2016, at a pace rising to a record $120 billion/month outflow by the end of 2015. Beijing’s imposition of tighter exchange controls in mid-2015 and early 2016 slowed the process. But with the ambitious One Belt, One Road (OBOR) Initiative to move westward, there will be many more projects in which surplus capital will identify spatial fixes outside China. Global Financial Integrity measured annual illicit financial flows from China at an average $140 billion from 2003-14. The point, however, is that these flows are not necessarily transfers from ‘China’ to the ‘imperialist’ countries, although Western firms no doubt transfer as much as possible to the home countries (usually through R&D royalties and licenses). The illicit flows measured by Global Financial Integrity are, in part, Chinese elites’ own strategies for accumulation.

Unfortunately, both Smith and Harvey ignore another vital outflow of poorer countries’ wealth, in the form of non-renewable resources whose extractive value – termed “natural capital” – is not compensated for by reinvestment. The volume of the losses to Africa here far outstrips the financial outflows, and a great deal goes to firms from the BRICS. This category includes the net value of extracting minerals, oil, gas and other non-renewable resources which, from 1995-2015 were measured by the World Bank in The Changing Wealth of Nations 2018 at more than $100 billion annually from Sub-Saharan Africa.[24] (This figure does not include North Africa nor the diamond and platinum accounts due to regional definitions for the former and measurement difficulties for the latter). The net outflow is above and beyond the increased Gross National Income and direct investment generated in the extraction process, and far outstrips all the other financial mechanisms through which Africa’s wealth is drained.

Indeed, in relation to depletion of non-renewable resources, one corrective to the Smith-Harvey debate comes from Amin’s latest book, Modern Imperialism, Monopoly Finance Capital, and Marx’s Law of Value, in which both super-exploitation and environmental appropriations are restated by Amin as the two core processes within world capitalism. As he argues,

capitalist accumulation is founded on the destruction of the bases of all wealth: human beings and their natural environment. It took a wait lasting a century and a half until our environmentalists rediscovered that reality, now become blindingly clear. It is true that historical Marxisms had largely passed an eraser over the analyses advanced by Marx on this subject and taken the point of view of the bourgeoisie – equated to an atemporal ‘rational’ point of view – in regard to the exploitation of natural resources.[25]

Capitalist rationality is to exploit without reference to the depletion of labour and resources over time. That China and India are now the most important purchasers of Africa’s raw materials requires a rethinking of the ways super-exploitation of labour and environmental destruction are being amplified by capitalism’s widening out from the historic European, U.S. and Japanese core. Altogether, these processes generate a form of subimperial accumulation that is implicit in Harvey’s rebuttal to Smith, when he recognises “complex spatial, interterritorial and place-specific forms of production, realisation and distribution.” The extraction of resources from Africa is undertaken by such firms, Harvey continues,

even as the final product finds its way to Europe or the United States. Chinese thirst for minerals and agricultural commodities (soy beans in particular) means that Chinese firms are also at the centre of an extractivism that is wrecking the landscape all around the world… A cursory look at land grabs all across Africa shows Chinese companies and wealth funds are way ahead of everyone else in their acquisitions. The two largest mineral companies operating in Zambia’s copper belt are Indian and Chinese.

Perhaps it is Smith’s old-fashioned binary North-South line of argument that prevents him mentioning – much less comprehending – the BRICS’ amplification of both super-exploitation and ecological crises, especially those relating to Africa, or the even larger net natural capital losses. Still, to his credit, Smith’s book acknowledges other crucial aspects of imperialism briefly discussed next: overaccumulation crisis, financialisation and remilitarisation. Still, without exploring these aspects of imperialist political economy and geopolitics in a way that incorporates subimperialism, the potential for Smith to engage Harvey’s overall concern about uneven geographical development is truncated.

Imperial-subimperial relations in an era of deglobalisation, over-accumulation, financialisation and remilitarisation

Crucially, the ebb and flow of capital across the world is not merely one of spatial extension, but also contraction – including the subimperial corporations that are active in Africa. From 2008-16, global trade/GDP declined from 61 percent to 58 percent. But China’s trade/GDP rate fell from 53 percent to 36 percent; India’s from 53 percent to 40 percent; South Africa’s from 73 percent to 60 percent; Russia’s from 53 percent to 45 percent; and Brazil’s from 28 percent to 25 percent. In the first two BRICS, the crash was a function of rebalancing through higher domestic consumption rather than export-led growth. Declining trade shares for South Africa, Russia and Brazil reflect peaking commodity prices just before the global financial meltdown that year, followed by subsequent recessions.

“The early-2018 gyrations in world stock markets, including losses of $4 trillion in a matter of days, signal that nothing was done after the 2008 meltdown to halt the bursting of financial bubbles”

Behind this is an overall crisis of over-accumulated capital, to a large extend due to excessive expansion of capitalist relations in China, beyond its workers’ and the world’s capacity to consume the output. A 2017 International Monetary Fund report confirmed China’s overcapacity levels had reached more than 30 percent in coal, non-ferrous metals, cement and chemicals by 2015 (in each, China is responsible for 45-60 percent of the world market). The subsequent shrinkage was the central reason for the massive crash of raw materials prices in 2015. The Guardian’s Larry Elliott summarised IMF concerns over “methods used to keep the economy expanding rapidly: an increase in government spending to fund infrastructure programmes and a willingness to allow state-controlled banks to lend more for speculative property developments.” Another technique – expansion of financial markets to mop up the capacity – also became dangerous, with Chinese banks’ high-risk ratio rising from 4 percent in 2010 to more than 12 percent since early 2015.

Financialisation is one symptom of global overproduction, in China and many other sites. Even though cross-border financial assets have fallen from 58 percent of world GDP in 2008 to 38 percent in 2016, the fast-rising domestic flows into high-risk (high-return) emerging markets and notwithstanding soaring overall indebtedness. In 2017, the Institute of International Finance announced that global debt reached $217 trillion (327 percent of world GDP), up from $86 trillion (246 percent of GDP) in 2002 and $149 billion (276 percent) in 2007. Since 2012, emerging markets led by China have been responsible for all the addition to net debt.

The next recession – which in mid-2017 HSBC, Citigroup and Morgan Stanley economists acknowledged is imminent due to vastly over-priced stock markets and unprecedented corporate indebtedness – will also confirm how optimists have become over-exposed locally, even as they lose appetite for global markets. The early-2018 gyrations in world stock markets, including losses of $4 trillion in a matter of days, signal that nothing was done after the 2008 meltdown to halt the bursting of financial bubbles.

“The rise of subimperial powers and their domination of hinterlands is taking place decidedly within and not against imperialism”

Moreover, deglobalisation is now fully underway, as it was in prior eras such as the 1880s and 1930s. For example, annual FDI was $1.56 trillion in 2011, fell to $1.23 trillion in 2014, rose to $1.75 trillion in 2015, and then dipped to $1.52 trillion in 2016, a decline as a share of GDP from 3.5 percent in 2008 to 1.7 percent in 2016. According to the UN Conference on Trade and Development, the attraction of Africa was waning from the $66 billion peak inflow in 2008 to a 2016 level of $59 billion.[26] Although a late-stage recovery appeared underway in early 2018, there is no hope of a decisive upturn on the horizon, despite hype surrounding China’s mega-infrastructure projects. One Belt One Road Initiative (OBOR) is touted for restoring some market demand for construction-related commodities. However, at a deeper structural level, China suffers from the apparent exhaustion of prior sources of profitability. The OBOR appears as a potential $1 trillion mirage, and one that may in the process even crack the BRICS, in the event the Kashmir OBOR routing continues to cause extreme alienation between Xi Jinping and Narendra Modi.

Another challenge to China comes from within: the ebbing of super-exploitative opportunities because of rising wages. Smith is incredulous: “It is true that ultra-low wages in southern nations are being used as a club against workers in imperialist nations, but it is preposterous to suggest that the North-South gulf in wages and living standards has been substantially eroded.” But global income studies and the “elephant curve” distribution by Branco Milanovic reveal a rise of these workers’ wages compared to the stagnant labour aristocracies of the North.[27]

In this context, the status of subimperialism is fluid, especially within the deeply-divided BRICS. This will be evident in July 2018 when the bloc meets in Johannesburg. The South African host is no longer the faux anti-imperialist Zuma, pushed out in a February 2018 coup by Ramaphosa in spite of begging to stay six more months so as to chair the BRICS, which he believes is his major legacy. For years Zuma complained that he was ‘poisoned’ by Western agents – working through his fourth wife in mid-2014 – due to his support for the BRICS (he was indeed poisoned and then recovered in Russia, but it is not yet certain why this occurred).[28] The Brazilian leader Michel Temer will soon be replaced as president, in a society with rampant elite self-delegitimation once the most popular candidate, Lula da Silva, was prevented from running in the October 2018 election. From India, Modi has openly embraced the Trump regime. The Chinese and Russian leaderships are remarkably stable: Xi’s lifetime premiership was awarded in early 2018, just prior to a Russian electoral landslide won by Putin (after his main opponent was prohibited from contesting) which appears to extend his 18th year in power for many more.

In this context, at least, Smith makes valid political points about the class character of Chinese expansionism:

Imperialism is inscribed in the DNA of capitalism, and if China has embarked on the capitalist road, then it has also embarked on the imperialist road… Chinese state capitalism (for want of a better term) shows signs of developing a strategic challenge to Japanese, European and North American dominance in key industries…Class-conscious workers must maintain independence from both sides in this looming conflict … [by] opposing Chinese capitalist expansion and the Chinese Communist Party’s attempts to forge an alliance with reactionary capitalist regimes in Myanmar, Pakistan, Sri Lanka and other countries.

The rise of subimperial powers and their domination of hinterlands is taking place decidedly within and not against imperialism, and not just in terms of those multilateral processes discussed above. The world is much more dangerous since the BRICS took their present form in 2010: in Syria and the Gulf States, Ukraine, the Korean Peninsula and the South China Sea. Even the Chinese-Indian border is rife with confrontations: mid-2017 fighting between the two giants at an obscure border post in Bhutan nearly derailing the BRICS annual meeting, and Modi’s boycott of the OBOR summit in May 2017 was due to Beijing’s mega-project trespassing on what New Delhi considers its own Kashmir land now held by Pakistan. For Xi it is the crucial turf linking western China to the Arabian Sea’s Gwadar port. There is no resolution in sight.

“even while rejecting imperialism’s geopolitics, it is the BRICS’ assimilation into neoliberal multilateral politics that stands out even more”

Acting as a geopolitical bloc, the BRICS’ public security interventions have occurred strictly within the context of the G20: first, to prevent Barack Obama from bombing Syria using pressure at the larger group’s September 2013 summit in St Petersburg, and then six months later in Amsterdam, supporting the Russian invasion (or ‘liberation’) of Crimea once the West made threats to expel Moscow from the G20 – just as the U.S. and Europe had thrown Putin out of the G8, now G7. However, when Trump came to last July’s G20 summit in Hamburg, the BRICS leaders were extremely polite notwithstanding widespread calls to introduce anti-U.S. sanctions (e.g. carbon taxes) due to Trump’s withdrawal from global climate commitments just a month earlier.

Fortunately for Southern Africa, remilitarisation is not a major factor in geopolitics today, in part because the apartheid regime gave way to a democracy in 1994 and ended destabilisation policies. More than two million people were killed by white regimes and their proxies in frontline anti-colonial and anti-apartheid struggles during the 1970s-80s.  More millions died in the eastern Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) during the early 2000s’ period of extreme resource extraction, a process that continues at low levels. The two recent armed interventions by Pretoria in the region were to join United Nations peacekeeping troops in the DRC (2013-present) and aid the beleaguered authoritarian regime in the Central African Republic (2006-13). Both are considered political-military failures insofar as violence continues in both sites. In the latter’s capital city Bangui, more than a dozen South African troops were killed in 2013 defending the Johannesburg firms pursuing lucrative contracts, just days before a BRICS “Gateway to Africa” summit in Durban.

Marini, Katz, Amin, Prashad and Chibber on subimperialism in the political conjuncture

With Smith and Harvey engaged in a fierce debate, what have other leading Southern contributors said of these matters? Claudio Katz simultaneously reminded in March 2018 of Marini’s best-known contribution to Marxist theory, namely the theory of subimperialism:

The simple centre-periphery polarity is less sufficient than in the past in understanding globalisation. Value chains have enhanced the relative weight of the semi-peripheral countries. Multinational firms no longer prioritise the occupation of national markets to take advantage of subsidies and customs barriers. They hierarchise another type of external investments. In certain cases they ensure the capture of natural resources determined by the geology and climate of each place. In other situations, they take advantage of the existence of large contingents of a cheap and disciplined work force. These two variants – appropriation of natural wealth and exploitation of employees – define the strategies of transnational corporations and the location of each economy in the global order… This relegated positioning is corroborated even in those economies that managed to forge their own multinational companies (India, Brazil, South Korea). They entered a field that was monopolised by the centre, without modifying their secondary status in globalised production.

Adds Samir Amin,

The ongoing offensive of United States/Europe/Japan collective imperialism against all the peoples of the South walks on two legs: the economic leg – globalised neoliberalism forced as the exclusive possible economic policy; and the political leg – continuous interventions including preemptive wars against those who reject imperialist interventions. In response, some countries of the South, such as the BRICS, at best walk on only one leg: they reject the geopolitics of imperialism but accept economic neoliberalism.

The militarist agenda of imperialism is now being somewhat more effectively balanced by the likes of China’s navy and Russia’s missile systems, both capable of engaging in debilitating strikes that would evade U.S. prevention. But even while rejecting imperialism’s geopolitics, it is the BRICS’ assimilation into neoliberal multilateral politics that stands out even more. And even though Vijay Prashad does not believe the BRICS can “counter the military dominance of the U.S. and NATO,” and indeed even though “Overwhelming military power translates into political power,” and even though “BRICS have few means, at this time, to challenge that power,” Prashad does agree that the BRICS have accepted economic neoliberalism:

The BRICS bloc – given the nature of its ruling classes (and particularly with the right now in ascendency in Brazil and in India) – has no ideological alternative to imperialism. The domestic policies adopted by the BRICS states can be described as neoliberal with southern characteristics – with a focus on sales of commodities, low wages to workers along with the recycled surplus turned over as credit to the North, even as the livelihood of their own citizens is jeopardised, and even as they have developed new markets in other, often more vulnerable, countries which were once part of the Third World bloc… In fact, the new institutions of the BRICS will be yoked to the IMF and the dollar – not willing to create a new platform for trade and development apart from the Northern order. Eagerness for Western markets continues to dominate the growth agenda of the BRICS states. The immense needs of their own populations do not drive their policy orientations.

Vivek Chibber also sees BRICS elites as assimilationist, in a recent South African interview: “the world is moving toward a more multi-centred political set of alignments. Economically, right now what we are seeing happening is the convergence of ruling classes in the global south and the global north into a common committee of global capitalist interests. That, it seems to me, is a new phenomenon.”

“by more clearly naming the BRICS threat as an amplifier of imperialism, not an alternative bloc, a critique of the subimperial location will pave the way for a better understanding by the world’s anti-capitalist forces, so that no further confusion need be spread about the potentials for allying with BRICS elites”

Such features of global capitalism go some way towards resolving the contradictions Smith and Harvey raise in their accounts. Most importantly, by more clearly naming the BRICS threat as an amplifier of imperialism, not an alternative bloc, a critique of the subimperial location will pave the way for a better understanding by the world’s anti-capitalist forces, so that no further confusion need be spread about the potentials for allying with BRICS elites (or for that matter, for world elites agreeing to a Kautsky-style global new deal). Although in many cases there is an ‘anti-corruption’ veneer, the democratic space for progressive politics is closing in most of the BRICS, alongside intensified economic exploitation and worsening environmental conditions.

The first weeks of 2018 witnessed the arrest of Brazil’s popular former President Lula da Silva as he appeared likely to win the October election; the failure of Putin to allow credible electoral competition; growing state-sponsored fascism within India; the ending of term limits in China at the same time as worsening surveillance and repression; and a popular regime change in South Africa that was immediately followed by intense budgetary austerity and an attack on workers’ right to strike.

In the last week of July 2018, when the BRICS bloc heads of state meet in Johannesburg’s Sandton business district, the counter-summit of radical activists and intellectuals gathering under the banner of ‘brics-from-below’ will take forward critiques of both local/regional super-exploitation, ecological threats, democratic deficits and the global process which creates BRICS subimperialism. Marxist theorists should consider how recognition of these processes can be done in both practice and through a broader theory of imperialism.

Patrick Bond is professor of political economy at the University of the Witwatersrand Wits School of Governance. He was formerly associated with the University of KwaZulu-Natal, where he directed the Centre for Civil Society from 2004-2016.

Notes

[1] John Smith, Imperialism in the 21st Century, New York: Monthly Review, 2016, p.104.

[2] See the full exchange on roape.net, John Smith, ‘David Harvey denies imperialism,’ roape.net, 10 January 2019, https://roape.net/2018/01/10/david-harvey-denies-imperialism/; David Harvey, ‘Realities on the ground,’ roape.net, 2 February 2018, https://roape.net/2018/02/05/realities-ground-david-harvey-replies-john-smith/; John Smith, ‘Imperialist realities vs. the myths of David Harvey,’ roape.net, 19 March 2018, https://roape.net/2018/03/19/imperialist-realities-vs-the-myths-of-david-harvey/ and a recent intervention by Adam Mayer, ‘Dissolving Empire: David Harvey, John Smith, and the Migrant’ roape.net, 10 April, 2018 https://roape.net/2018/04/10/dissolving-empire-david-harvey-john-smith-and-the-migrant/

[3] David Harvey, The New Imperialism, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003, pp.185-86.

[4] The initial stages of the debate are reviewed in Patrick Bond and Ana Garcia, BRICS: An anti-capitalist critique, London: Pluto Press, 2015; Patrick Bond, ‘BRICS banking and the debate over subimperialism.’ Third World Quarterly, 37, 4, 2016, pp.611-629, https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/01436597.2015.1128816; and Matthias Luce, ‘Subimperialism, the highest stage of dependent capitalism,’ in P. Bond and A. Garcia (Eds), BRICS, Johannesburg: Jacana Media, pp. 27-44.

[5] Smith also mentions in passing but does not theoretically elaborate one crucial feature of apartheid: regional military hegemony, in which Pretoria served as local gendarme of Western imperialism during the Cold War, until the Cuban-Angolan victory at Cuito Cuanovale in 1988 which he correctly judges as a profound moment in the power-shift that enabled the deracialisation of South African subimperialism.

[6] It is a shortcoming that Smith – whose work is so impressive on labour super-exploitation – is so very weak in incorporating gender, environment and the political sphere into the core of his analysis (the way Harvey does in his 2017 book Marx, Capital and the Madness of Economic Reason). All these go hand in hand, and in that respect his critique of Harvey  could be strengthened, and their analyses at least partially reconciled.

[7] John Saul and Patrick Bond, South Africa: The present as history, Oxford: James Currey, 2014.

[8] Harold Wolpe (Ed), The Articulation of Modes of Production, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1980.

[9] Samantha Ashman, Ben Fine and Susan Newman (2011) ‘The crisis in South Africa: Neoliberalism, financialisation and uneven and combined development,’ in L.Panitch, G.Albo and V.Chibber (Eds.), Socialist Register 2011: The crisis this time, London: Merlin Press, 2010; Patrick Bond and Ashwin Desai, ‘Explaining uneven and combined development in South Africa,’ In B.Dunn (Ed), Permanent Revolution: Results and Prospects 100 Years On, London: Pluto, 2006, pp.230-245.

[10] Annette Kuhn and AnnMarie Wolpe (Eds), Feminism and Materialism: Women and modes of production, London: Routledge and Paul, 1978.

[11] These were ethnic-based black ‘homelands’, e.g. KwaZulu, the Transkei, the Ciskei, Bophuthatswana, Venda and several others to which at peak about half the black population was forcibly removed. They are now reincorporated within South Africa’s borders.

[12] Andrew Higginbottom, ‘The system of accumulation in South Africa: Theories of imperialism and capital,’ Économies et Sociétés 45, 2, pp.261–88.

[13] Amongst his many books stressing South-to-North value transfer is his most recent, Samir Amin, Modern Imperialism, Monopoly Finance Capital, and Marx’s Law of Value, New York: Monthly Review, 2018.

[14] Ruy Mauro Marini, ‘Brazilian interdependence and imperialist integration,’ Monthly Review 17, 7, 1965, pp. 14–24.

[15] Smith, Imperialism, p.352.

[16] The Economist, ‘Barack Obama talks to The Economist,’ August 2014, https://www.economist.com/blogs/democracyinamerica/2014/08/barack-obama-talks-economist

[17] Garth le Pere, ‘Can Africa truly benefit from global economic governance?,’ Global Policy Journal, 10 March 2017, https://www.globalpolicyjournal.com/blog/10/03/2017/can-africa-truly-benefit-global-economic-governance

[18] Ana Garcia, ‘BRICS investment agreements in Africa,’ Studies in Political Economy, 98, 1, 2017, pp.24-47, https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/07078552.2017.1297018?journalCode=rsor20

[19] The best-known exception to this process of super-exploiting Africa was the acquisition – for tens of millions of HIV+ people – of generic AIDS medicines, initially from the Indian pharmaceutical company Cipla, assisted by Intellectual Property violations by the Brazilian government. But instead of being a coordinated semi-peripheral attack against the WTO, this was a case in which decommodification of a vital basic need was driven by South African activists in the Treatment Action Campaign (working against the Mbeki government’s opposition to supply of the medicines). The activists compelled the WTO to make medicines an exemption. Both the Indian and Brazilian governments subsequently became much more conservative in relation to protection of corporate property rights.

[20] BBC, ‘Odebrecht case: Politicians worldwide suspected in bribery scandal,’ 15 December 2017, http://www.bbc.com/news/world-latin-america-41109132; Judith Marshall, ‘Mozambican workers and communities in resistance,’ roape.net, 18 March 2016, https://roape.net/2016/03/18/mozambican-workers-and-communities-in-resistance-part-2/; Clemente Ntauazi, Resistance to ProSavana in Mozambique, Cape Town: Programme in Land and Agraraian Studies, http://www.plaas.org.za/plaas-publications/ADC-pres-mozambique

[21] Craig McCune and George Turner, ‘Ramaphosa and MTN’s offshore stash,’ Mail&Guardian, 9 October 2015, https://mg.co.za/article/2015-10-08-ramaphosa-and-mtns-offshore-stash; PwC, ‘Global economic crime and fraud survey,’ Johannesburg, 2018, https://www.pwc.co.za/en/publications/global-economic-crime-survey.html

[22] Perhaps most notorious in South Africa is Cyril Ramaphosa; see McCune and Turner, ‘Ramaphosa and MTN’s offshore stash’; Craig McKune and Andisiwe Makinana, ‘Cyril Ramaphosa’s Lonmin tax-dodge headache,’ Mail&Guardian, 19 September 2014, https://mg.co.za/article/2014-09-18-cyril-ramaphosas-lonmin-tax-dodge-headache; and Micah Reddy, Rob Rose, Will Fitzgibbon, ICIJ and amaBhungane, ‘Paradise papers: Ramaphosa’s Shanduka deal flop,’ Mail&Guardian, 9 November 2017, http://amabhungane.co.za/article/2017-11-09-paradise-papers-ramaphosas-shanduka-deal-flop

[23] Simon Mevel, Siope Ofa, and Stephen Karingi, ‘Quantifying Illicit Financial Flows from Africa Through Trade Mis-Pricing and Assessing Their Incidence on African Economies,’ United Nations Economic Commission for Africa (UNECA) presentation to the African Economic Conference, Johannesburg, 28–30 October 2013, http://www.afdb.org/en/aec/papers/paper/quantifying-illicit-financial-flows-from-africa-through-trade-mis-pricing-and-assessing-their-incidence-on-african-economies-945

[24] Patrick Bond, ‘Economic narratives for resisting unequal ecological exchange caused by extractive industries in Africa,’ forthcoming in Review of Political Economy, July 2018.

[25] Amin, Modern Imperialism, p.86.

[26] United Nations Conference on Trade and Development, World Investment Report 2017, Geneva, 2017, http://unctad.org/en/PublicationsLibrary/wir2017_en.pdf

[27] Branco Milanovic, Global Inequality: A new approach for the age of globalisation, Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2015. To be sure, Milanovic has been criticised by C.P. Chandrasekhar and Jayati Ghosh.

See C.P. Chandrasekhar and Jayati Ghosh, ‘How unequal are world incomes?,’ Network Ideas, March 2018, http://www.networkideas.org/featured-articles/2018/03/how-unequal-are-world-incomes/

[28] Gayton McKenzie, Kill Zuma By Any Means Necessary, Johannesburg, ZAR Empire, 2017.

Food Sovereignty and the Environment: an interview with Habib Ayeb

For roape.net Max Ajl interviews radical geographer and activist Habib Ayeb. Habib Ayeb is a founder member of the NGO  Observatory of Food Sovereignty and Environment (OSAE)  and  Max Ajl is a sociologist, activist and an editor at Jadaliyya and Viewpoint. The interview was conducted on March 4, 2018, in Tunis, Tunisia.

Max:  Habib, you have made many films and written at length about food sovereignty in Tunisia and in Egypt. Can you start by telling us how you see the conversation around food sovereignty in this part of the world?

Habib: In recent years, the issue of food sovereignty has begun to appear in academic and non-academic debates, and in research as well – although more tentatively – in all the countries of the region. That said, the issue of food and thus agriculture has always been important, both in academic research and public debate, as well as the academy, political institutions, and elsewhere. During the 1970s and 1980s, in Tunisia and throughout what was called the Third World, we spoke mainly of food self-sufficiency. This was, in a way, and at that time, a watchword of the left – a left that was modernist, developmentalist and statist.

If I’m not mistaken, I believe that the concept of food self-sufficiency dates from the late 1940s with the wave of decolonization, which began after the Second World War, and probably also dates to the great famines which claimed millions of lives in India and other areas of the South. Furthermore, many states, particularly those governed by the state-socialist regimes that had acquired political independence during the 1950s and 1960s, had initiated Green Revolution policies.  These had the aim of achieving food self-sufficiency to strengthen political independence, in a Cold War context wherein food was already used as a weapon and a means of pressure in the context of the confrontation between the USSR and the Western bloc. It is in this context that the experiences of agrarian reforms and agricultural co-operatives in Tunisia (from 1962), in Egypt (from 1953) and in many other countries had proliferated. But almost all of these experiments ended in failure or were aborted by liberal counter-reforms, which were adopted everywhere beginning in the 1980s amidst the victory of liberalism, the USSR’s disappearance, and the development of a global food regime, and its corollary: the global market for agricultural products and particularly cereals.

It is at this point that the concept of food security, based on the idea of comparative advantage began to gradually dominate. It would appear for the first time in the official Tunisian texts in the sixth Five Year Plan of the early 1980s, in which the formula of food self-sufficiency would give way to that of food security. From then on, agricultural policies would favour agricultural export products with a high added value, whose revenues would then underwrite the import of basic food products.

Paradoxically, agricultural issues, food issues, and rural issues writ large would gradually disappear from academic agendas. There was a sharp reduction in funding for research on the rural world, and instead it went first, to the urban research profile, but also to examine civil society and political organizations. It was not until 2007/2008 and the great food crisis that agricultural and food issues, and furthermore the peasant question with its sociological dimension, would reappear in public debates focused on these matters. It was during the same period that the concept of food sovereignty, proposed by Via Campesina in 1996, would appear in Arab countries and to a much lesser extent in research. Even today, many use the food sovereignty frame to talk about food security, even while the two concepts are radically opposed, even incompatible.

“the urban left subjugated by modernity have developed a sort of disregard for the peasantry, which they consider as a brake and an obstacle to development. We know that this is not new – already Marx, in his day, had little regard for the peasant world”

In Egypt, I participated in many discussions on issues of food security and sovereignty. We were, with some other friends and colleagues, including the anthropologist Reem Saad, responsible for helping to initiate the first discussions around the specific theme of food sovereignty. We organized workshops, research seminars, and other activities, too, more oriented towards civil society and the media. We also organized two seminars in Damascus, in Syria, in 2008 and some others in Tunisia between 2007 and 2011. Concerning Syria, it should be noted that it is one of the very few countries in the South that did not suffer from the food crisis of 2007 and 2008, because the Syrian state has always thought, amidst a particularly hostile and explosive geopolitical context, that the food issue was part of its national defense strategy. Thus, agricultural policies before 2011 (and even after, with the difficulties that we can imagine) always aimed at a level of cereal production sufficient to cover basic needs. The lesson of the embargo imposed on Saddam Hussein’s Iraq after the war of Kuwait was well-learned by Damascus.

From 2011 on, spaces and opportunities for debate would greatly expand, touching upon a multitude of topics and diverse themes – even if the rural world, and more specifically, agricultural and food topics, remain relatively marginalized, or often forgotten. Nevertheless, the issue of food sovereignty has seen some fairly significant actions and initiatives. In Egypt, the principle of food sovereignty was enshrined in the first post-Mubarak constitution (2012). In Beirut, there was an attempt to form an Arab Network for Food Sovereignty. In Gaza, food sovereignty is a strong demand to which the Israeli embargo gives shape and consistency. And then in North Africa, public discussions and various activities around food sovereignty began in 2012-2013. It must be noted that throughout the region, there is still a kind of confusion around concepts, slogans, and even demands and claims. If the notion of food sovereignty begins to spread there is then a risk of trivialization and misuse of the expression, which may occur – it has happened with other concepts, including that of sustainable development which has been totally emptied of any real meaning.

One puzzle I have come across while doing my research on food sovereignty – and I mean the narrow meaning, or the specific use of the term, as it has become linked to Via Campesina – is that there are very few regional social movements that are tied to Via Campesina. There is one in Morocco, there is one in Tunisia. And there is the Union of Agricultural Work Committees, which is the regional coordinator, and has been a part of Via Campesina, I think since 2003, since the second Intifada. This is the part of the world where Via Campesina has entered least – or has the fewest links. Why do you think this might be the case?

It is difficult to explain. Without being categorical, it seems to me that this is largely due to the paradoxical absence of direct relations between the city and the countryside which go beyond the marketing of agricultural products, an exchange which does not necessarily bring the two areas into continuous contact. Between the countryside, especially the peasants and agricultural workers who live and/or work there, and the city, including the ordinary inhabitants, the intellectuals, the activists and the trade unionists’ communication and exchanges are relatively limited. The former does not necessarily have access to the city, whose codes they do not know, and the latter do not understand the countryside, and stigmatize its inhabitants. In the city, the word fellah (peasant) has become an insult.

When the Egyptian government carried out its agrarian counter-reform in 1992 by adopting the so-called 96/92 law which completely liberalized the land market, and which resulted in a massive rise in the price of agricultural land, overnight about a million peasant families, former tenants, found themselves without land to work and therefore without income. In response to an attempt at resistance, the government reacted with great brutality from its police, leaving about 150 dead, not counting the dozens of wounded and imprisoned. Astonishingly, these events in the Egyptian campaign did not provoke any rush of solidarity from urban political and intellectual elites, with the exception of a few activists and NGOs, already more or less engaged in the peasant milieu, who tried to organize some demonstrations and support activities. Today, I tend to think that these isolated and repressed peasant movements of the mid-1990s were the first fruits of the revolutionary processes that ended the Mubarak regime in early 2011.

Few people in the area know about Via Campesina. Even amongst those people who, by a kind of mimicry, use the expression food sovereignty, know nothing about Via Campesina and the history of this concept. In itself, this is a real political problem that further aggravates the invisibility of rural and peasant populations and widens the rift between the city and the countryside, thereby limiting relations to exchanges of products and services through closed circuits.

I wonder if some of the separation you talk about between the city and the countryside is also because, speaking generally here, with exceptions such as Yemen, it’s been a very modernizing left. Whereas in Asia you had Maoism, and in Latin America you had liberation theology, Christian-based communities, and you had all these ideologies and forms of organizing that were much more centered on the world and the culture of the countryside. Whereas in North Africa it’s generally been, or rather there has been an embrace of a modern/traditional dichotomy.

Yes, sure. Compared to North Africa specifically, I think not only does the city not know the countryside, but additionally, the urban lefts subjugated by modernity have developed a sort of disregard for the peasantry, which they consider as a brake and an obstacle to development. We know that this is not new. Already Marx, in his day, had little regard for the peasant world which, surprisingly, he had never tried to understand.

Generally, the Maghreb left, excepting a few generally unorganized intellectuals, reject the idea of ​​rural social classes. I have the impression that this rejection is more a reflection of the contempt towards the peasantry than the output of a serious work of reflection and conceptualization. But this is an issue that deserves a real dispassionate debate.

“It is the privilege of social scientists who choose to be physically and intellectually close to their objects of research and their interlocutors in the field. That’s what has always interested me”

Let’s take the example of the considerable difference between the history as it has been constructed and told – storytelling – of Mohamed Bouazizi and the real story, which is much more interesting, because it is linked to the stories of many peasants in Sidi Bouzid, and their sense of being robbed, dispossessed, marginalized and impoverished [Mohammed Bouazizi was the Tunisian street vendor whose immolation in Sidi Bouzid, a city in Tunisia’s Center-West, has often been heralded as the spark that lit the Arab Spring].We know today that Mohamed Bouazizi, whom almost nobody knew outside his immediate circles, was not an unemployed graduate as had been claimed, and that he had not been slapped by the policewoman. Yet this false story had been disseminated and used to mobilize as much as possible against the Ben Ali regime. We understand the reasons and the political objectives of this invented history and we can even accede to such a use. For in any case, no one can deny its formidable effectiveness since it allowed Tunisians to bring down a true dictatorship, while the real story probably could not have done so.

However, I continue to think that despite its undeniable effectiveness and its historical importance, Bouazizi’s constructed history has dispossessed the peasants of Sidi Bouzid and the rest of the country of their stories of struggles and resistance, stories with which the real history of Bouazizi fits perfectly. The popular understanding of the Tunisian revolution stems from a false history, and constitutes in fact a denial of truth, and a marked contempt, albeit unconscious, for peasants, their functions, their roles and finally their resistance. It is in fact a blatant expression of the opposition of the urban middle class and in particular the Tunisian left to any idea of ​​rural social classes. The debate on rural social classes, opened a good thirty years ago, deserves to be revived and enriched. I have already published on the relationship between the peasants of Sidi Bouzid, Bouazizi and the revolution.

I also wonder if somehow there is a link between the fact that in Tunisia you have actually an incredibly rich tradition of Marxist intellectuals in the academy that wrote about the countryside. So, like Hafedh Sethom, Slaheddine el-Amami, to some extent Azzam Mahjoub, Habib Attia, who all, of course, wrote under the dictatorships. Some of them helped with the planning process in the 1970s, but they could not possibly be linked to any form of left that was actually organizing otherwise they would lose their job and livelihood. So, this made it harder to have a convergence between an activist left and the academic left especially on this question of the countryside.

Yeah definitely, at least in Tunisia. I don’t know about Morocco or Algeria. Have you encountered attempts to converge between the Marxist researchers of the time, such as the ones you just mentioned, and the left-wing activists of the time? I do not know any. I must admit that it would have been extremely dangerous for anyone at the time of Bourguiba or Ben Ali, which must be a part of the explanation for the absence of convergences. One could imagine a birth of peasant or pro-peasant unions. But knowing a little about the political context of postcolonial Tunisia, characterized by a dictatorship that has closed all political spaces and the suffocating hegemony of organizations, such as UTAP (Tunisian Union of Agriculture and Fishery) and the UGTT (Tunisian General Labour Union), related through a system of alliances to the existing political power structure and its single party, it is very difficult to imagine political initiatives to create independent organizations.

In fact, it would be unfair to reproach Marxist scholars under dictatorship for not engaging politically. They did a great deal of observation, documentation and analysis in an extremely difficult context. They have left us with materials that have proven to be rich and indispensable for understanding current agricultural and food policies and the evolution of these policies during the last decades. Anyone who does not know the work of Amami, Sethom, or others cannot understand current agricultural issues and their ecological, economic, social and political dimensions. Those who ignore these valuable materials produced and accumulated during this relatively long period cannot understand what happened between December 17, 2010 and January 14, 2011. It is extremely important to recall these facts especially since very few contemporary academics could present a record as rich and politically useful as their predecessors.

Even when they proposed it, it was often just a proposal – they might write in their work that a specific programme ‘rests on the activity of the peasants’ but this was a dead letter. Imagine someone going to the countryside and trying to organize the peasants! For all we know there were such attempts, but we don’t know what happened to the people who tried to do these things. Even to take Brazil which is supposedly a democracy it’s known that the MST (Brazilian Landless Workers’ Movement) militants are assassinated all the time by the landowners.

And it’s still the case in many other countries.

And this has been in the post-democratic period in Brazil. So, imagine in Tunisia …

Something like this also happened in Egypt, where the pro-peasant activist Salah Hussein – who was the husband of Shahenda Maklad, also a great pro-peasant activist who died in June 2016 -was murdered in 1966 in Kamshish, his village, which was located in the Nile Delta. He was killed because with Shahenda and the small peasants he had won a political battle against the big landowners of the Delta who were trying to avoid the agrarian reform initiated in the early 1950s by Nasser.

In Tunisia Ahmed Ben Salah would never have allowed anyone to resist his policies. He would have used every means to prevent any resistance. This is the main explanation for the absence of trade unions and farmers’ organizations before 2011 and even since the end of the dictatorship. This also explains why ‘committed’ researchers did not get involved directly on the ground with the farmers.

If we can shift gears a little bit. How do you see your cultural work, your films contributing to the Tunisian debate or collective discourse around food sovereignty? How do you see the contributions of all the films? Because you make a lot of films Green Mirage, Fellahin, Gabes Labes, and most recently Couscous which was shown at the ROAPE workshop in Accra in 2017.

When I first began making films, I did not plan to work on food sovereignty, it came much later. I had in mind work on questions of access to resources – land rights, water rights, environmental rights.

The first film, On the Banks of the Nile: Sharing Water was made in 2003, at a time when, after 15 or 20 years of work on water, I realized that the real problem was not water but farmers and other water-users access to water resources. It was conditions of access that could, at least partially, explain complex social and political situations. Access to water is a precondition for biological life. But it is also social and therefore political.

So, as I often say, ‘ came out of the water to see the peasants, to understand the different mechanisms and questions they face, including those related to water access. The main objective was to contribute to the ongoing discussion, and to bear witness to the peasants’ difficulties, as well as their social conditions.

“Documentary films seemed to me an excellent tool of communication and interchange with a public which is very broad compared to academia. Watching a documentary takes an incomparably shorter time than reading a book, or even a scholarly article”

Of course, all this was not by chance. I did not find myself accidentally lost along Egypt’s Nile Valley. I have done nothing, so to speak, by chance, during my career. My research activities have always focused on subjects which I considered, at the moment of my engagement, as causes to be defended. It’s my way of engaging. I am not in any political party or movement. I am somewhere in the radical left and that suffices for me as an affiliation.

As far as film-making was concerned, I had felt the need to get out of my role as a researcher publishing for a relatively limited number of more or less specialized publications and readers, and to address those and those who are not necessarily in academia or the university environment. Documentary films seemed to me an excellent tool of communication and interchange with a public which was very broad compared to academia. Watching a documentary takes an incomparably shorter time than reading a book, or even a scholarly article.

I take advantage of what I believe I know to provoke debate. Water was my specialty. Rural issues too. This knowledge and experience allowed me to have special and close relations with the agricultural world, including peasants and all manner of farmers, and therefore with their living spaces and/or work. These relationships have allowed me to observe the rural space, the activities which go on there, their living and working conditions, the changes underway, as well as ways of organizing rural and agricultural populations. It is, moreover, the privilege of social scientists who choose to be physically and intellectually close to their objects of research and their interlocutors in the field. That’s what has always interested me. In any case that’s what inspired me in my film Green Mirages (Mirages Verts) that I made in 2012 with my friend, the Egyptian director Nadia Kamel. Basically, I try to do what I can do, using available and accessible means and by mobilizing the 3 or 4 things that I think I know and understand.

Habib Ayeb speaks to roape.net at the ROAPE/TWN workshop on structural transformation in Africa (Accra, 13-14 November 2017)

I tried to film in Tunisia in 2007 but I quickly realized that the camera represented for the Ben Ali regime a weapon of mass destruction and, in a sense, I agree with this idea. It’s terrible what you can do with a camera. In any case, I quickly gave up the idea and I did not take out my camera again until much later for Green Mirages which I shot almost entirely in my village, Demmer, in the country’s southeast, where there is no visible police presence.

You were a little protected.

I have a kind of protection that comes from my family’s history, and a bit from my current status as an academic.  People have their own perceptions. They do not necessarily see you as you are in reality, but as they want to see you.

“The film only lasts 45 minutes, but the whole session lasted more than 4 hours. It is there that I understood that engaged films always find their public, and systematically incite debate. That’s exactly what I’m looking for”

In any case, we were able to make the film without too much difficulty. The film criticizes dominant development models, by showing how they are complicit in the destruction and disappearance of an extremely rich local ensemble of know-how, of techniques and technologies, developed over time, through generation after generation, by local populations to adapt to local conditions and/or protect themselves against the various hazards of natural or non-natural origins, had a success beyond what we could imagine. Demmer is a rocky village perched above the arid mountains of the southeast of the country.  It is an open-air museum exhibiting hydraulic skills composed of both physical management of the water through hydraulic engineering (harvest, storage, dikes, earthworks …) and social water management, composed of an extremely rich and complex ensemble of mechanisms for conflict resolution between resource users. Thanks to these riches, Demmer has been able to withstand for centuries the worst conditions, whether permanent or contingent, but could not resist the modern models of development that dispossess people of their last tools of defense and survival.

Okay so you were able to show it in Tunis, as well.

Yes, especially in protected areas like universities. I remember a screening at the University in Tunis in front of dozens of viewers, both teachers and students. The ensuing discussion was one of the richest and most rewarding that I have had since I started making documentaries. The film only lasts 45 minutes, but the whole session lasted more than 4 hours. It is there that I understood that engaged films always find their publics, and systematically incite debate. That’s exactly what I’m looking for.

Before we talk a little bit about Gabès Labess, can you give a little more sense of what the reaction Green Mirages  was like from the students?

The questions and comments of the students who were present at the screening that I was just talking about went beyond the bounds of a strictly academic context. They intervened as citizens who ask questions of substance concerning the choice of agricultural policies, the location of hydraulics, and the immediate or long-term consequences of these policies on the environment. Some commented on the film in technical and artistic terms. Some questions related to my career, my choices and my commitments. An academic who makes movies was something relatively unusual for them and intrigued them. But the most important questions and comments were about development models and their actual or potential consequences. Some questioned me on the substance of my speech and asked me the question that I often heard then and I still hear today, ‘… But sir, you want us to live like our grandparents?’ In fact, I really like this question because it opposes, or juxtaposes, a certain representation of what is modern and what is old or traditional and forces us to re-pose the recurring question: What is modernity?

“Why this race? Running forever behind development? Why don’t we think more about the very notion of developing? For whom, for what? For growth rates? What is development? What does it mean to develop a country by increasing the number of poor people?”

During the same discussion, there was another recurring question: ‘How to develop the country so as to resist global competition, without technological modernization?’ I answered with a series of questions, as I often do: ‘Why this race? Running forever behind development? Why don’t we think more about the very notion of developing? For whom, for what? For growth rates? What is development? What does it mean to develop a country by increasing the number of poor people?’ It is interesting to ask these questions, because people had not considered them.

I told them that Sidi Bouzid was the region that received the most investment between 1990 and 2011. The leading region. It is a region that had an extensive semi-pastoral farming system, and it became in less than 30 years the premier agricultural region of the country. At the same time Sidi Bouzid had been a ’moderately poor’ region, in a sense, and I put that in quotation marks, and it is now the fourth poorest region in the country. This is the development which people desire. Regueb, which is part of Sidi Bouzid, looks like California. Regueb is a perfect technical success, an exemplar of the Californian model. The problem is that the local population does not benefit. These are people from Sfax and the Sahel who get rich in Sidi Bouzid, not the people of Sidi Bouzid. Hence the link with the story of Mohamed Bouazizi.

Moving onto Egypt there was a larger opening for freedom of expression in Egypt, relative to Tunisia. For example, I was shocked when I heard in Egypt there was a Center for Socialist Studies.

I worked there for a few years. I did interviews in the Egyptian media, including on TV, where I spoke exactly as I speak to you now and in Egyptian, and on national channels. I did an interview about an hour long, about my book Water in the Middle East (published in Arabic in Egypt). In Tunisia it would have been just impossible!

But I think that if I did something in all my militant and professional life, which had a totally unexpected effect, it was my documentary Gabes Labess, made in 2014. It’s a bit crazy. Something has happened, which is largely related more to the new political context than to the film itself. I really like this movie. For once, for the first time, there was a film addressing the issue of the environment by placing that issue alongside the dominant development models. I think that Gabes Labess favoured forms of mobilization that did not exist before.

And you showed Gabès Labess in Gabès many times?

Yes, the first screening was in Gabès. In the Cultural Center of Chenini. The Oasis of Chenini, which is a part of Gabes.  The first screening was just incredible. I was really very surprised. Over 200 people came. That means there were people waiting, not for my film itself, exactly, because nobody knew me, but they wanted something about the environment. There was demand on the environment, on the environmental issue.

The screening took place as part of a small festival, ‘Lights and Color of the Oasis’ which is still held in February. It is useful for people to know that I received death threats just before this first screening. I imagine it came from people in the factories – bosses or perhaps people who were naturally afraid for their livelihoods. However, I think that it must have been bosses and businessmen; that seems to me more likely.

It seems that since 2014 people are really beginning to reject the type of environmentally damaging development model, even though there isn’t yet an articulated alternative.

Now people are really debating the question of development models. Sometimes the debate is very rich, and sometimes it’s more of a provocation or challenge. Today, the debate is unquestionably touching on fundamental questions: ’What do we do with water?’, ‘What do we do with the earth?’, ‘What do we do with our natural resources?’, ‘What do we do with oil?’, ‘What do we do with phosphate?’…The demonstrations in El Kamour, the strikes around the phosphate in Kasserine, Redeyef and so forth.  The movements around the environment in Gabès, Sfax and Kerkennah. Closing chemical plants, shutting down the road, stopping the oil pipeline – these are actions. But what is behind them? I think there we find the debate on the development model. When the people of El Kamour say ‘We want our share of oil revenues’, they are speaking of development models.

I’ve been in Tunis while you have been distributing and showing Couscous, which touches on food sovereignty. Even if it does not explicitly put forth a different development model, it nevertheless centers a different form of development as something people need to look at. Do you think this is part of why people are so receptive?

Yes, that explains at least part of the good reception of  Couscous. The film does not directly address the issue of development models, but it says that there is something that does not work in the current system. The peasants who appear in the film say so clearly, and they go further by explaining the causes of the various difficulties they encounter. By giving the floor to female and male peasants who express themselves with great clarity and precision and exhibit a real political awareness of the complex mechanisms which explain their difficulties, the film speaks directly to people, beyond their educations, opinions, social backgrounds and trades. This is why they are very receptive both to the film and to the central idea it conveys, the idea of food sovereignty as a political alternative and as a fundamental requirement.

The advantage for the movie Couscous has been that the debate had already been opened. The movie came as an additional document to enrich the debate and cast upon it a specific kind of light. There were already people sitting around the table, discussing, and I brought them something new. What surprised me most has been the overall positive reaction to the film. The debate is constantly revived, as it expands, as new people of diverse social origins engage for the first time. Recently, a journalist I interviewed said, ‘What, for you, is a fellah? How is it useful to society?’ These two questions can be considered extremely simple, or even simplistic. Their significance stems from the fact that many people thought they had already been bypassed, considering farmers part of the past, and that their contemporary usefulness is almost nil. The film says the opposite and it’s always productive to shake up frozen ideas.

Politically, people have started to know me since 2014. They know that I make movies. Some subscribe to my blog, which has about four thousand subscribers, of whom more than 90 percent are probably Tunisian. So, when I announce a new movie, it’s known pretty quickly. Of course, my name attracts people, and I am very happy. But I also think that those who already knew my other films came to see Couscous with a fairly positive preconception. That, in part, explains why the movie Couscous received a much wider reception than the other films.

The film is not yet available online. People have seen it in theaters during the Carthage Film Days: three screenings, three different rooms, three full rooms. One must note that Tunis’s theaters average around 400 seats. During that event there was also radio, TV, the press, and of course social networks and electronic newspapers which, in fact, offered coverage to Couscous, whereas the other films had not benefited from such visibility. It makes a fundamental difference.

Obviously, the movie Couscous did not initiate the debates on food sovereignty. There have already been many other events and actions around this broad issue whether they have occurred under the concept of food sovereignty or not. But it seems to me that the film has given some visibility and some new impetus to these discussions. It’s the magic of cinema that escapes the director completely.

I know you’ve shown the film to not just general audience but also agricultural schools in certain places. Can you talk a little bit about the Q&A sessions, the reception to the film both in general but also especially how the agricultural and agronomy students have reacted to it?

It is exciting to discuss food sovereignty and agricultural policies with agronomy students. Some students say to me, ‘But, sir, how would we be useful, with the training we have, if the current model is not good?’ These are young people who are in the process of obtaining their engineering degrees and who have a fairly solid technical background. They are generally even more challenged when I provoke them deliberately by suggesting that a large portion of the problems we are debating is due to the work of the experts who design the policies which are adopted, and who know nothing outside their specialties.

If you ask experts what to do to solve the problem of lack of water somewhere, they are likely to answer that it is necessary to build a dam or dig a borehole. A technical answer to a political problem. This is what students learn in Tunisian agricultural schools. Therefore, their reactions to my provocation are related to their current and future social status and their schooling. But as I went through these schools, too, from high school to engineering school, I could talk to agronomy students, using their languages ​​and their tools.

“I say to these future technicians that the problem comes from our training and that we must question not only our individual training, but the whole system that trains future decision-makers. I tell them that I had to re-educate myself”

So, to answer their questions about their future and their roles after school, when they have the engineering degree in their pocket, I tell them a bit about my state of mind at the end of my studies, where they are today. I tell them that if, when I left engineering school, I was given the keys to the Ministry of Agriculture, I would have erased everything old to create something beautiful, modern, impressive with big modern machinery, chemical fertilizers, pesticides. I would have installed a new California on Tunisian soil. It is this dream of technical modernity that I learned at school without any perspective and without any analytical ability to think otherwise. In these schools, the social sciences were totally absent, and this is obviously not a coincidence. The function of these schools in Tunisia is to train technicians, not citizens. Unfortunately, this model is becoming widespread and affecting the entire education system, including in many countries of the North with specializations increasingly narrow and closed to any other knowledge. So, I say to these future technicians that the problem comes from our training and that we must question not only our individual training, but the whole system that trains future decision-makers. I tell them that I had to re-educate myself to free myself from the training that the engineering school had imposed on me.

Do you discuss agro-ecology with them?

Yes of course. When I went to these schools – and I have done three so far – I initially went with the idea of ​​not addressing technical issues because they know more than me and that would prevent productive discussion. I just wanted to tell them this: ‘Listen! You have been deprived of tools for reflection, you have been deprived of social sciences, political science, history, debates on the model of development, debates on liberalism, and basic knowledge about the major currents of thoughts: What is capitalism? What is Marxism? What is right? …’ This is knowledge that is needed in order to have the foundation to better analyze and appreciate the situations that they will inevitably encounter in their professional life and, if necessary, bring the right answers. My challenge was to tell them that we cannot answer the big questions and the big current challenges concerning development and ecological problems by having a strictly technical approach and without calling on other knowledges and especially the social sciences.

Have any of these students, that you know of, returned to the debates from the 1980s? I know the Arab world in general and Tunisia especially had an exceptionally rich debate about alternative technologies, particularly in the agricultural sector, which were less energy intense and less polluting – has this happened, or perhaps it is something that will develop in the future?

These debates, which you mention, date from the 1970s and 1980s at a time when rural studies were still relatively important and where the discussion focused on the choices between the development of agriculture or the orientation towards what was called industrializing industry, the economic liberalization which occurred from the mid-1980s contributed to the extinction of these debates. As a result, rural research gradually gave way to urban research. The debate simply changed. But I have seen the return of these debates since the food crisis of 2007-2008.

I recently received a letter from a young student who is about to finish her studies as an agricultural engineer at a Tunisian school. She wants to undertake a doctoral thesis on ‘the evolution of agricultural technologies and their perceptions by small Tunisian farmers.’ Roughly, she is posing the question of whether and how small Tunisian farmers adapt to new agricultural technologies and to what extent they adopt them. This specific question was asked by another student during the debate we had in their school. I remember answering that a small farmer can die if – to replace a plow he has just broken – he does not find the right plow suited to his terrain and his own material and social conditions. He can disappear simply because without the good plow, he cannot work his land. I added that the issue of adaptability and adaptation is a complex issue that does not just answer financial or technical criteria.

Another question that often comes up, and not only in agronomy schools, is ’Can small farmers feed humanity?’ This is a very serious question that cannot be answered with a simple ‘Yes.’ The world’s population has reached seven to eight billion people. Can small farmers feed them?

Obviously my answer is yes. But for that the peasants must be able to control the market and production. In other words, it will be necessary to leave the current dominant model. It will be necessary to change everything that now exists and move to a peasant agricultural model whose objective is to feed humanity instead of the enrichment of some. In short, we must take our leave from this liberal and capitalist agriculture to return to peasant agriculture. Today the peasantry no longer live exclusively from the land, their work and their functions are devalued, and they are increasingly marginalized and progressively excluded from the agricultural sector. In these circumstances, no one can say that the peasants alone can ensure the sufficient food for all humanity. It’s just not possible.

And it is almost impossible to imagine a neoliberal or even state-capitalist regime to be interested in devolving power to the poorest people in society.

Or even feeding people. They don’t care.

They care about neither. Technically it is possible to shift the existing system, but we can’t see it. So maybe this leads to the last question. Habib, now you have an organization, the Observatory of Food Sovereignty and Environment (OSAE), what kind of work is it doing, how do you see it contributing to the debate around food sovereignty, and how do you see it moving forward?

I was at the founding of the Observatory of Food Sovereignty and Environment OSAE, but I am not alone since we are four founding members (Nada Trigui, Amine Slem, Adnen Ben Haj and myself) and therefore accountable for the association. I think that the debates since 2011 have been too political, and do not usually rely on accurate and verifiable knowledge and data.

In addition, social science research on issues such as food sovereignty, peasant issues and the environment is very limited and poor. The few researchers working on these subjects publish in foreign languages ​​and rarely in Arabic and even less in local dialects. As a result, they are seldom read and discussed since people do not know them, and they do not know their work, which is almost never discussed publicly outside research environments and associated spaces. But important debates need a certain amount of knowledge and analysis based on research. Otherwise, we are no longer in a real debate, but immersed in sterile and unproductive chatter. If you do not do research, people cannot know things. And if they cannot know, they cannot debate from a solid foundation.

Our idea, and it is, perhaps, the novelty of OSAE, is to be a structure that aims at debate and proposals based on research, and verifiable and verified information. Secondly, perhaps advocacy activities and support for peasants and those engaged in the struggle against the destruction of the environment, nature and natural resources. But that will be a second stage.

We want to start by forming a solid research nucleus, which examines these current issues of food sovereignty in relation to law, justice, the environment, and social conditions. So OSAE is primarily a committed civic research organization. Therein lies its contribution. As far as I know, it is alone in working on the rural world and which aims to put forth a new reading of its situation and its problems, and to advocate new discourses based on the research and analysis produced by members of OSAE or by others who wish to collaborate with us. Research at first, training of researchers, information, and invitations to debate are our agenda for the current and future moments. In a second step, once we are more settled, we will intervene on the ground with actions more directly engaged with farmers, consumers, young people and, of course, civil society.

There is also a question of sovereignty here. There is a real problem which we have not as yet discussed. The majority of those who contribute to and set the boundaries of political debates around food sovereignty, including in the social sciences, are composed of foreign or foreignized actors. People who are from here, but totally disconnected from realities and local communities. They live elsewhere. They work elsewhere. They think elsewhere. Some do excellent work but from the North, and with questions, problems, analytical tools and readings from the North. My dream for OSAE is to initiate a research programme which thinks fromhere, without, of course, cutting itself off from those who think from their own fields, specialties, and problematics.

Habib Ayeb is a professor of geography at Université Paris 8 and film-maker. This interview was transcribed by Nada Trigui.

 

 

Dissolving Empire: David Harvey, John Smith, and the Migrant

By Adam Mayer

In January and early February 2018 on roape.net, we witnessed a debate between David Harvey (Distinguished Professor of Anthropology, History and Geography at the Graduate Center of the City University of New York, father of a range of disciplines around radical geography, and perhaps the single most recognizable Marxist name globally, beside Slavoj Zizek) and John Smith (formerly Kingston University, London, winner of the first Paul A. Baran–Paul M. Sweezy Memorial Award for an original monograph, Imperialism in the Twenty-First Century, and a working class activist).

This was not Harvey’s first grand debate on the subject of imperialism. Recently, the Patnaiks included Harvey’s response to their own work on imperialism  in their very own volume: a fruitful and polite exchange that revolves around the question whether commodities that come mainly from tropical countries, are producible only at an increasing supply price, threatening the value of money, and causing income deflation in the global South. The geographical and climatic core of capitalism is a given for the Patnaiks and Harvey challenges their idea with restrained delight.

Unfortunately, it is hard to describe the subject of my blogpost, the debate between Harvey and Smith, as restrained, polite delight. Harvey talks of Smith’s ‘rank idealism,’ his ‘crude and rigid theory of imperialism,’ and a ‘polemic instead of a reasoned critique.’ Smith had irked Harvey by shedding light on one of the least defensible aspects of Harvey’s concept of ‘deterritorialised, deracinated, depersonalized global capital,’ commanding a world where the imperialist super-exploitation of the East and of the South had already ceased and where the role of the imperialist super-exploiter had been reassigned to China’s and other East Asian countries’ bourgeoisies. Where ‘roles have already been reversed’ between East and West, as Harvey put it.

“Where are the millions of foreign students that pay the equivalent of hundreds of years of local wages, for a semester at a university in the People’s Republic of China”

John Smith battles Harvey’s problematic assertions with a political economy toolkit from his magnificent volume, and then again in his roape.net entry, and I shall not repeat here his arguments on outsourcing, global labour arbitrage, or how the last global financial crisis appeared. Instead, I shall concentrate on what I understand to be Harvey’s fundamental flow of method in their debate: the disappearance of time, and thus, historicity, from Harvey’s thought. This is no small matter when we consider that Lenin considered imperialism a stage of capitalism. 

This hiatus did not appear just with Harvey’s take on Smith’s theory of imperialism. He recently critiqued the Patnaiks by saying that their ‘concepts of space, place, geography, environment are all wrong.’ To Smith in a similar vein: ‘there I found the traditional conception of imperialism derived from Lenin (and subsequently set in stone by the likes of John Smith) inadequate to describe the complex spatial interterritorial and space-specific forms of production, realization and distribution,’ in both cases entirely omitting the factor of time, history, and historical materialism from his summary.

This is not by chance. Harvey’s omission is structural, conscious, and dangerous. In his early career and again in the case of his tome on the Paris Commune, employed a historical method, and the problem is not his lack of mastery of the subject, of which he is a global expert. Smith also notices how for Harvey, ‘developing countries are now draining wealth from the imperialist centres. This assertion (is) made without any supporting evidence or estimate of magnitude’ (emphasis by Adam Mayer). In other words, even if China super-exploits workers domestically and to some extent internationally (in exceptional cases), does this mean that China in economic, cultural, social, or military terms has reached the status of an imperialist power, and that ‘relations are now reversed’ between East and West, as Harvey claims?

“When the wretched of the earth die to reach the shores of the People’s Republic of China at sea, and not the shores of Australia as they currently do, that is precisely when I will be ready to follow Harvey’s take on imperialism”

When Harvey analyses the changing landscapes of global capital, he concentrates on production, finance, town planning, wages and interest rates but ignores in its entirety the role of cultural capital and a host of other forms of capital, such as social capital, and something else that materializes when they are absent: desire. Social capital is of course very often associated with amelioration of working people’s living conditions, and is usually used in a reformist context. The concept of cultural capital, due to its provenance in Bourdieu, is usually seen as less applicable to non-European economies (as Bourdieu includes patterns of speech and habits such as enjoying opera performances, as part of the bourgeoisie’s and its individual members’ cultural capital). I propose here to focus rather on the flipside of social and cultural capital: the very monetary convertibility of social and cultural capital, the fate of the subaltern and the excluded, the figure of the migrant who desires legal, social and cultural capital, in order to demonstrate how absurd Harvey’s notion of the changing cores of global imperialism really is. The figure of the African migrant (from the refugee who loses his life on a boat on the way to Italy, to the absentee bourgeois who purchased his first world citizenship after bleeding his tropical home of resources in order to be able to do so), is central to our investigation of where imperialism resides, and where empires are really located.

If we think even for a moment about where research, patents, fashions, new ideas and ideologies are born and nurtured, we see immediately how offensively improbable Harvey’s argument is. Where are the millions of foreign students that pay the equivalent of hundreds of years of local wages, for a semester at a university in the People’s Republic of China, or even in Japan? Even Japan and South Korea woo talented students with scholarships from less fortunate countries, not to mention China or the others (China just started employing foreign professors and is in a frenzy to get foreign students by offering scholarships). Are Chinese degrees capital investments in ways that US, or even New Zealand degrees are? The PRC is an absolute newcomer to the game of how cultural capital works in the modern world – on work innovation, R&D, global fashion function and how to create desire on a global scale.

Harvey claims that due partly to super-exploitation originating in the East, the Western worker’s plight is now on a convergence course with the Eastern and Southern worker. The Western worker or unemployed person does not live on the lap of luxury as Harvey reminds us in his rebuttal of Smith’s work. However, many Western unemployed workers have access to food (in the form of food stamps or unemployment benefits), and many have health coverage. Compare this with Hungary (a semi-peripheral economy) where there is no unemployment benefit, and the peripheral economies of Asia and Africa, where the poor live in constant fear of hunger. When it comes to Harvey’s ‘new imperialists’: Singapore for one has no unemployment benefits at all (and treats this problem as part and parcel of its promotion of family values and ‘responsibility’). I am discussing an individual’s very food security here: people are fed even in exploitative and privately owned US prisons, while they are not fed even in state prisons in many countries of the South and East where relatives are expected to bring in food for inmates or else the convict dies of hunger. (US prison populations, and especially Black prison inmates, are obviously, a super-exploited group in US capitalism and this is not to deny their super-exploitation but to illustrate how in the West, relative deprivation means different things from what it means outside the West).

“By 2018, significant segments of both the comprador bourgeoisie and of the professional class have emigrated from countries such as Nigeria, effectively constituting a new, emergent global class of Southern absentee bourgeoisie in the North”

It is beyond absurd to compare the status of the Western proletariat (and precariat, and lumpenproletariat, and peasantry, and single working mothers, and the elderly) in core Western countries and those outside those countries. Even if a Western unemployed person is materially poorer than a Southern or Eastern unemployed person, the former owns (in a very immediate sense) a passport that is worth literally dying for (as African migrants, and Asian migrants, demonstrate day to day, tragically). Thus, it is not Smith but David Harvey, who is thinking in an idealist way, when mistaking money flows and production flows for imperial standing. It is true that the crumbs that fall to the subaltern classes within Western economies are made possible by imperial super-exploitation in late capitalism: to deny this is to deny the obvious. When the wretched of the Earth die to reach the shores of the People’s Republic of China at sea, and not the shores of Australia as they currently do, that is precisely when I will be ready to follow Harvey’s take on imperialism to the extent that ‘reversing the roles has perhaps just advanced beyond its very inception.’ But when legal protections, simple food security, as well as access to knowledge and innovation are as unequally distributed as they are today – and the inequality is growing –  it may well take decades or a century to talk of roles ‘already reversed’ (and what if China chooses to coexist in a secondary role to the corporate West as Japan does?). This is what I mean when I say that Harvey ignores the factor of time and that his focus on space is rigid. Importantly, at the point, when ‘roles have reversed,’ this very debate would take place in Mandarin, and not English (the author of this blogpost is Hungarian).

I would go further. Beyond cultural, social and legal capital, there is the lack of access, the lack of rights, the lack of opportunities, the lack of dreams. From Africa, since structural adjustment programmes and the even more hypocritically named poverty reduction programmes have disenfranchised the post-colonial state and deindustrialized the continent, the African proletariat and the unemployed started to seek Western passports just to ensure survival. As a parallel development, the bourgeoisie has become similarly mobile, just to secure their possessions and their families’ survival amidst a rapidly deteriorating security situation in their home countries. By 2018, significant segments of both the comprador bourgeoisie and of the professional class have emigrated from countries such as Nigeria, effectively constituting a new, emergent global class of Southern absentee bourgeoisie in the North. This very class, one leg in the old country, and another in the US or the UK, is represented by the émigré writers who represent global peaks in high literature, such as Chimamanda Adichie and others.

The poor however, cross the Mediterranean risking their lives just to reach the refugee camps of Italy (a journey that although it usually costs several thousand dollars, is also extremely risky). The better off try to arrange faux marriages with European partners. The really rich may of course, purchase citizenships in the imperialist nations, such as Spain, for around €500,000 per family (entirely risk free, realized in real estate investment). Such is the meaning of – the lack of – social and legal capital: in order to link yourself to a functional society and its benefits (to imperialism, if you will), you may invest as much as your life, your emotional wellbeing, or a very serious amount of money, just to ensure your access to the ameliorative effects and affects, of living in a core imperialist country.

Now to the flipside of the concept of cultural capital. For elite ranks of the global bourgeoisie, the education component of their cultural capital is almost entirely covered by money: they can pay their way through the best schools in the best countries. The global middle class may need scholarships, tricks such as eyeing spousal employment patterns in say, Cambridge. The poor are shut out from most of knowledge production and even access in most countries.

“David Harvey’s ahistorical studies of unstable flows and dissolving empire and centre-less capitalism lull us into feeling better about ourselves and our role in the machine (wherever we are), and thus they help kill our revolutionary instincts”

Modern empires are rooted in market exchange and they are to be uncovered primarily as mechanisms of global political economy, but empires are also rooted in brute force – manifest in the number of nuclear warheads, military bases abroad, countries attacked, life-worlds destroyed. This is the very connection that Lenin and Rosa Luxemburg had noticed. Do China, Singapore or South Korea exhibit capabilities in these regards that make them equals of the US or even of the UK or Germany, beyond sensationalist, journalistic exaggeration and warmongering in the mainstream Western press? A simple count of foreign countries attacked by East Asian countries and the United States and its allies in the last fifty years eliminates any sense of bias and makes the concept of ‘roles already reversed’ look positively ridiculous.

Empires are also rooted in desire and in voluntary and mass submission – a sickness really as far as the individual colonial subject is concerned as Fanon teaches us, and as Deleuze and Guattari demonstrate. Do Chinese lifestyles compete with US suburban lifestyles as truly global aspirational dreams? Do people the world over usually watch documentaries on Zhou Enlai’s theoretical thought or do they watch Billy Graham and his ilk on cable and on the net? Do daughters of the Zambian political class get into trouble for expressing their sexualities in ways that copy US celebrities (I am referring to Iris Kaingu, Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian), or do they emulate Chinese culture in their aesthetic and sexual aspirations in any discernible way? The self-conscious absurdity of my juxtapositions is obvious. US urban sprawl norms, the norms of empire, are encroaching on China itself.

Now back to the issue of time. Becoming an imperial centre took two centuries for the UK, and for the US, it took one and a half. For Britain, there was a century and half between destroying the textile industry of Bengal and becoming a global center for R&D (the first industrial revolution was less rooted in hard science than in artisanal inventions in the UK). The destruction of Northern Nigeria’s textile industry cut the chronology roughly in half. For the US, only WWII created the pre-conditions for bringing its higher education into real competition with European universities: something that occurred more than two centuries later than the start of their genocidal ethnic cleansing of North American natives (the deep history of their domestic empire). Even if we assert that money flows and changes in technology today are incomparably faster than they were seventy years ago, it is not reasonable to imagine that significant proportions of even the world’s elite would come to speak Mandarin within the coming decades (given the investment in time that such an effort requires, relative to the benefits), not to talk about aspiring to Chinese lifestyles, emulating Chinese norms, and choosing to mass convert to Chinese or other East Asian religions, world views or philosophies, or follow their fashions. Displaying Maoist porcelain statuettes on mantelpieces is very much a subcultural phenomenon for New York that barely reaches even the Western European artistic avant-garde. China even makes great pains to demonstrate to the West that it is not competing with others in terms of ideology. Is this the stance of a world empire, fountain of super-exploitation as in Harvey’s depiction?

Now to the issue of Leninism, Harvey’s ideological attack on Smith, and its relation to concepts of imperial cores and peripheries. It is not a coincidence that post-colonial writers and thinkers, along with representatives of the non-Marxist World Systems Theory, including Wallerstein and Grosfoguel, stick to classical concepts of who the imperialist powers are (Western military historians do this too, simply following historical precedent). Ramon Grosfoguel of the dependency school, who deals with philosophical links between the concept of the universal, and the dark history of extermination and epistemicide in the South, enlightens us about the colonialist origins of the Cartesian “God-s eye’s view” which, although it claims to have universal validity, is in fact restricted to male thinkers from just five countries: the USA, UK, France, Germany, and Italy. Philosophy, a discipline that is notorious for being the most exclusive and most racialist in terms of its classical canon, is a test for the Westernized university the world over, but also of how closely the history of thought has followed the history of economic might and plunder. Grosfoguel himself is no Marxist, indeed he calls universalist enlightenment philosophy (the historical antecedent to secular Marxism and Leninism) “idolatry,” but still he recognizes the basic materialistic forces behind the history of ideas, and the unevenly stable global constellation of imperialism.

What seems to annoy Harvey is also Smith’s political radicalism. Smith extolls the experience of Cuba’s trade with the USSR in his book as the best example of fair trade in history, calls the Sino-Soviet split “a tragedy”, attacks both dependency theory and euro-Marxism on account their lack of true engagement with radicalism in the South, along with Ellen M. Wood for her famous assertion of the European (domestic) origins of capitalism as opposed to one rooted in the colonial enterprise. Smith is no Keynesian. Remembering that Greece is a place where the colonels had won and where Syriza could not carry out its valiant programme, he calls the country, tragically but correctly, a minor imperialist power within an imperialist club (the EU). Smith is an uncompromising revolutionary radical. This is what annoys Harvey, who seeks to please.

I will not enter the argument whether Harvey is a closet Keynesian or not: he of course claims otherwise and it is usually well advised to take a thinker’s self-definition seriously. However, when he muses on the tactical desirability of Keynesian solutions, he forgets a crucial component to any Keynesian story: the menacing, state socialist Other, lurking behind the social democratic, capitalist borders. There has not been a successful major Keynesian experiment in the capitalist core since the collapse of state socialism outside it. To demand for Keynesian solutions without advocating for revolutions that provide space for any Keynesianism to appear, is true, unabashed idealism peppered with a pinch of nostalgia: again pointing to Harvey’s disappearing theoretical sense of time and of history.  

Today’s protagonist, the migrant, knows exactly the truth about wherein lie empire. Be she a member of the global elite who purchases a legal stake in empire, or a poor refugee who hangs off a boat next to Queensland, Australia, she knows perfectly well that her destination is part of the corporate imperial Western core, and that is why her chances of physical survival, security and self-actualization are so much higher there than in her home. This also tells us that with the partial exception of China and a small number of other countries (much of the planet’s non-Western landmass is becoming more unlivable as well as more unjust, for the subaltern and even for the bourgeoisie.

Instead of meaningful convergence, we see imperialism roaming the earth, looking for new prey, as in Africa and its new “security hotspots.” David Harvey’s ahistorical studies of unstable flows and dissolving empire and centre-less capitalism lull us into feeling better about ourselves and our role in the machine (wherever we are), and thus they help kill our revolutionary instincts. Herein lies the very real danger of today’s huggable David Harvey, and this is also the reason why the sage’s habitual politeness disappears as he derides John Smith, the uncompromising radical.

Adam Mayer is the author of Naija Marxisms: Revolutionary Thought in Nigeria published by Pluto Press, released in 2016. He teaches at the Department of Politics and International Relations at the University of Kurdistan Hewlêr.

Featured Photograph: Arrested refugees-immigrants in Fylakio detention center, Evros, Greece (9 October 2010). 

Agriculture and Sovereignty in North Africa

By Max Ajl

Two members of the Thimar collective, Habib Ayeb of the University of Paris – VIII, Ray Bush of the University of Leeds, several frequent collaborators of Thimar – François Ireton and Max Ajl – as well as Amine Slim and Corinna Mullin, spoke at a conference which Bush and Ayeb convened on Agricultural Policies and Food Dependencies in North Africa in Tunisia on Friday, May 29, 2017 at the headquarters of the Tunisian Forum for Social and Economic Rights.

Ayeb opened the forum. He pointed out that price inflation of Tunisia’s basic food crops and heritage crops, combined with wages failing to keep pace, was pricing Tunisians out of the market for the most basic healthy subsistence needs. A female agricultural laborer, for example, would have to work a full day to make enough money to buy a liter of olive oil.

After Ayeb’s opening, Ray Bush spoke on food security, sovereignty, and protest in Egypt and Tunisia. Bush discussed how prevailing plans from the Ministries of Agriculture discussed small farmers and their poverty, but gave scant attention to how small farmers had become poor. He framed their impoverishment in a longer-term analysis of the Nasserist legislation endowing peasants with permanent rights to use the land, as well as the revocation of the legislation in the early 1990s, leading to mounting differentiation and concentration of ownership. President El Sisi has stewarded the latest phase of the country’s rural planning regime. On the one hand at a recent meeting in Sharm el Sheikh the country’s leadership admitted that there was a ‘state of exception’ allowing for the violation of human rights. On the other, as one farmer observed, such policies and the poverty they were exacerbating could cause ‘the entire country [to] go up in flames’ if the government did not treat the people well. Bush also noted that capital has increasingly entered the agricultural circuit, seeking profits in the realm of 10-15 percent and tightly squeezing farmers’ revenues and surplus – the only available source from which to extract such incredibly high profits.

Bush also counter-posed food security based on trade to food sovereignty based on locally secured production. The former was triggering a ‘global subsistence crisis.’ As a consequence, protests around both agriculture and land have become ‘systemic and systematic.’ Against this tableau, he proposed we attempt to generalize categories of analysis that allow us to understand this crisis, and to confront the issue of our time: delivering accessible and available food to the world’s poor in a way that is sustainable for the planet. Food sovereignty, he suggested, is the answer.

Max Ajl of Cornell University examined similarities and differences between the discourse and movements fitting under the umbrella of food sovereignty, delinking, or breaking from the global law of value, as Egyptian economist Samir Amin, conceptualized it. There are, Ajl argued, strains of Tunisian populist agronomy and economics which built creatively, organically, and locally from the de-linking tradition.

Ajl began by historically situating the emergence of food sovereignty amidst the gestation of La Via Campesina in the ruin which Latin American neoliberalism created. Against this social breakdown, popular struggles drawing on liberation theology and peasant movements drawing on indigenista thought combined with the more traditional left to build a variety of continental peasant movements engaged in struggles for land and control over food production. These movements had coalesced into La Via Campesina (LVC) by the mid-1990s, which then spread to South Asia and sub-Saharan Africa and the North Africa region.

He then noted that LVC’s proposed technics for food sovereignty was agro-ecology. The institutions responsible for ensuring food sovereignty shift in different LVC statements and position papers between the people, the nation, and the state. The Latin American governments, pushed by popular pressure, have put in place programs and constitutional architecture to help their countries achieve food sovereignty.

Ajl compared the program of food sovereignty with that of delinking, focusing on the question of national autonomy over the productive matrix – their most compelling point of convergence. As a mode of analysis, delinking was unevenly attentive to the ecological question. In contrast, Tunisian popular agronomy was incredibly attentive to ecological issues, with economists and agronomists like Abdeljelil Bedoui and Slaheddine el-Amami putting forth programs for agro-ecology well before the phrase had become common. Ajl then compared and contrasted the three frameworks, noting the centrality of food and rural issues to any anti-systemic project as well as the currently-existing anti-systemic projects outside of the region.

Francois Ireton of the CNRS used FAO statistical data to compare food production and consumption in Tunisia and Egypt from the immediate post-colonial period until the present. He noted that calorie consumption in both countries had increased since the post-Independence period, with a lower and lower percentage of overall calorie production coming from cereals. Meanwhile, both countries had become severely dependent on imported cereals, in part because of extensive diversion of cereal stocks to feed livestock.

Ireton also observed that Egypt had a smaller proportion of its cereal calories coming from wheat than Tunisia, and a more mixed cereal basket. At the same time, Egyptians consume a higher percentage of their daily calories in cereals than do Tunisians. And Tunisia has experienced a massive increase in the use of barley for animal feeding since the 1960s.

Amine Slim, a researcher at the National Gene Bank, suggested that the farmer was a ‘key’ actor in the conservation of biodiversity. He pointed out that there was ongoing ‘genetic erosion’ within Tunisia, with just five varieties of barley and wheat commonly cultivated, whereas in 1940 farmers commonly cultivated 50 types of these cereals. Furthermore, agriculture itself, in its search for high yields, had moved to the simplification of agriculture in the form of monoculture.

He suggested that agriculture can promote biodiversity through ecosystem services and retaining humidity in the soil, as well as carbon-fixing, and promoting the preservation of ecological knowledge. He also argued for in situ conservation of genetic diversity, with would imply the maintenance of a viable population of cultivars and land-races on the land. The Gene Bank is involved in some of these efforts, working with ICARDA and the FAO, and enlisting farmers in the effort.

Slim also compared the nutritional profile and resilience of traditional land races with the Green Revolution imported varieties. The former produce far more hay per hectare, and also have far higher percentages of protein – up to five percent higher in wheat and semolina (up to six percentage points more protein) making a far more complete nutritional profile. The imported wheats are also more vulnerable to disease than traditional wheats. The Gene Bank has also started a program to restore older barley land-races, often going to the relatively isolated islands of Jerba and Kerkennah to gather genetic material. Slim noted that local practices and knowledge allow for a greater capacity for local management.

Concluding the presentations, Ayeb gave a panorama of colonial and post-colonial land tenure and agricultural planning systems. He analyzed the conversion from collective land under pre-colonial usufruct rights – the right to use something belonging to another – to the colonial and post-colonial emphasis on private ownership and leasing. The post-colonial state, he pointed out, had played a profound role in pushing for the de-collectivization of lands. He juxtaposed the state’s role in destroying collective ownership outside of its aegis with pushing for collective ownership through cooperatives under its aegis and highlighted how the 1960s cooperative program had dismantled large swathes of family, petty commodity, and subsistence production across Tunisia.

Ayeb insisted that the ownership of land is central for understanding food dependence in Tunisia. Sidi Bouzid, for example, a governorate with rates of landlessness and massive inequality in land ownership, is also one of the main arenas for agriculture in the country and yet one of its poorest. There has been a massive inrush of investment, knowledge and ‘development’ yet it remains, Ayeb explained, poor and dispossessed, the outcome of the dispossession of the primary producers.

Ayeb also discussed how the attempts or programs for modernization were based on emulating the techniques of the old colonial land-holders. Accompanying such a program was the notion that peasants, in the words of some of the planners, were a ‘force of inertia,’ and what was needed was to ‘transform the structure of production, the mentalities,’ a frequent theme and expression of government planners in the 1960s, with abundant evidence of its omnipresence. Finally, he pointed out the fundamental distinction between food sovereignty and security, with the latter based on the mantras of trade and comparative advantage whereas the former was about substantive social empowerment.

During the concluding discussion, Corinna Mullin of the Tunis Business School discussed the possibilities of what regional integration might signify for the possibilities of food sovereignty, pointing out that different countries might have different advantages. She also discussed the role of the free trade treaties in hollowing out Tunisia’s productive structure, including its agricultural system, and argued that they are a mechanism of imperialist control.

Ajl also raised the question of regional integration, pointing out that it had been a constant through the 1970s and 1980, and that many of Amami’s proposals for arid land agricultural development had been first voiced during pan-Arab meetings. He also discussed the importance of national projects, and the fact that countries which were under pressure from the US state have tended to be those countries which either in the near past or present had asserted or were asserting control over their national rural sectors.

Max Ajl is an activist and scholar, his research focuses on agricultural development policy in North Africa, state subsidy policy, and the world commodity markets. 

Featured photograph: Governorate of Dakahlia, Egypt (Ray Bush, 2013).

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For 50 years, ROAPE has brought our readers pathbreaking analysis on radical African political economy in our quarterly review, and for more than ten years on our website. Subscriptions and donations are essential to keeping our review and website alive.
We use cookies to collect and analyse information on site performance and usage, and to enhance and customise content. By clicking into any content on this site, you agree to allow cookies to be placed. To find out more see our