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Gender and Politics in Africa: an Interview with Marjorie Mbilinyi

Struggles over gender inequity have often been lost or buried in accounts of the fight against political exploitation and oppression in Africa.  A parallel history of contestation over gender relations is here exposed through the life of one remarkable scholar and activist, Marjorie Mbilinyi. ROAPE’s Janet Bujra discusses the life and politics of a fighter for gender and class equality on the continent. The interview is a powerful and critical account of fifty years of campaigning against patriarchal oppression on many fronts in Tanzania, in which Mbilinyi has herself been at the forefront. She traces the legitimisation of feminism as a means to understand and a way to organise for and with women. This is not a feminism lifted from Europe or the US, but one generated in response to Tanzanian and African realities. As a teacher, analyst and organiser, Marjorie Mbilinyi has inspired a generation to question patriarchy and to set up groups to study and fight against it collectively, and to do so in tandem with struggles against class oppression, neoliberalism and imperialism. In this growing movement she identifies and describes resistance not only from men in power but also from those who position themselves on the radical Left. 

 

Marjorie and I were colleagues and became close friends from the early 1970s, when I taught on the pathbreaking East African Society and Environment course at the University of Dar es Salaam (a team-taught introduction to radical political economy). We later worked together on a research project into the impact of the AIDS crisis on gender relations and have maintained our friendship and political dialogue up to the present.

Your life in Tanzania has been one of gender and Left activism and you have made major contributions, working collectively with others. What motivated you initially towards such objectives? As someone born in the USA, did your politics precede your move to Tanzania, or were they generated by events and conditions in Tanzania?

I would say both:  my politics preceded my move to Tanzania in a general sense, but events – both personal and public – galvanized my activism. From adolescent years I was committed to challenging inequality and injustice, propelled in part by personal struggles at family level. Later, exposure to the women’s movement literature of the 1960s provided me with the tools to understand and name patriarchal structures of oppression in the family.

As a member of the ‘sixties generation’, I was actively engaged in the civil rights movement in the early 1960s in and out of Cornell University where I did my first degree [1961-1965]. Participation in the voter registration drive in Fayette County, Tennessee, in 1964 as part of a Cornell University students group was a landmark, providing me with first hand exposure to community led activism and the intricacies of ‘outsider’ participation.

Arriving in Tanzania at the end of 1966 to join my husband to be, Simon Mbilinyi, after completing my MA in Education Psychology at Stanford University, I was caught up in the excitement of the debates over Socialism and Self Reliance on and off campus. As a young wife/mother, and academic at University of Dar es Salaam [1968-2003] I was forced to confront the challenges and struggles of patriarchy in the family and on campus, as well as in the general community, while also actively engaged with others in efforts to implement socialist principles, transformative pedagogy and participatory action research. My position, as an American born European/white female married to a Tanzanian, complicated these struggles.                

In 1967 I made a conscious decision to become a Tanzanian citizen. Our family adopted Kiswahili as the family language, and sought in every way possible to provide our children with a ‘local’ Tanzanian upbringing, feeling at home and belonging in their father’s culture, community and extended family, and building strong bonds with their grandmother, aunts, uncles, cousins and non-kin family/friends. Fluency in Kiswahili was also a must for anyone seeking to participate in the social transformations taking place at that time.

Why do I dwell at length on language and culture issues? We had observed the harm caused by identity issues among a few Tanzanian friends of mixed racial heritage, who were born in the colonial period, usually of European/white fathers and African mothers. Some were separated from their mothers and maternal community, and sent to boarding schools for African children of middle-class aspiring parents. The mixed children had their own dormitory room, clothing, and food to eat, and were taught ‘proper’ European manners and table etiquette, and they wore shoes!

My husband Simon and I have been fortunate to have four remarkable children, three girls and one boy: NnaliTausi (1967), AninaMlelwa (1969), LyungaiFilela (1973) and Mhelema Michael (1979 -1980). We lost Mhelema at the tender age of one year and three months, following one of several bouts of severe high temperature and infection during his lifetime. At the same time, we have been blessed by the birth of four grandchildren, who are our hope and inspiration.

Within two months of Nnali’s birth, I was employed on a full-time basis in the University’s Department of Education and had to find an ayah/nanny to help take care of my child. On 1 January 1968, Mwamvua Saidi entered our household and family and remains part of us to this day, as mama mlezi. Mwamvua, or Mama Shija, played a major part in helping to socialise our children – and me — and ground us in Tanzanian culture. She also ‘freed’ me to be able to devote time to my work as a university lecturer and researcher, to my PhD studies at UDSM from 1968 through 1972, and increasingly, to my engagement in the women’s/feminist movement. Mwamvua was also balancing work and being a wife/mother/family. She had five children, four boys and one girl, spaced very closely to our own children. Soon she and her family were able to move into our compound, and our children grew up together, becoming part of our extended family.

The famous feminist slogan, ‘the personal is political’, had special resonance for me as a young wife/mother and academic/activist, trying to cope with the often conflicting demands of patriarchal society and at the same time ‘belong’ to my new community. Friendship with likeminded women and the sisterhood we developed as part of a feminist movement for change became a major source of inspiration, hope and support, as well as the overall progressive group of scholars and their families both on and off university campus. My family [nuclear and extended] became another, and the two ‘worlds’ often coalesced in joint activities – Sundays at the beach with children and friends; drop in visits, rotating dinner and dance parties in one another’s homes.

These were also formative years for the university at many different levels: a shift from largely expatriate and European staff to Tanzanian and African; struggles over ideology between the dominant imperial bourgeois position, a pan-Africanist Marxist vision, and transformative feminism which challenged both; struggles over structures and ways of decision making between the inherited top-down bureaucratic structure and alternative democratic systems; and conflicts over the relationship between the university, the state and the people. Women/gender struggles were situated within each of these struggles and also helped to shape them.

Can you describe the heady political atmosphere at the university in the early 1970s? What kind of debates took place and between whom? What part did you play in university politics?

The University was an exciting place to be in the late 1960s and early 1970s. There were debates on the role of the University in building socialism and self reliance, involving lecturers and students as well as participants from ‘town’. This included advocacy of curriculum reform and structural transformation of the University itself, enhancing the voice and power of lecturers and students vis a vis the administration. The Common courses (East African Society and Environment and Development Studies) were designed to expose all students, regardless of their subject specialisation and career choice, to an understanding of Tanzanian/socialist ideology, history and political economy. In the Department of Education, we created a joint foundation first year course [Psychology and Sociology of Education] to enable future teachers/researchers/school administrators to better understand and engage with the challenges of implementing the state’s Education for Self-Reliance policy at school/college and classroom level. My particular interest was in the promotion and practice of transformative pedagogy at University as well as in other education institutions, in order to promote creativity, critical thinking, problem posing and democracy in the classroom.

Efforts to democratise the University led to periodic confrontations with the University administration. I was involved with fellow lecturers in mobilising support for students’ autonomy and defending the student organisation leader at that time, Simon Akivaga, when he was seized by police forces and eventually expelled to Kenya, his home country. I also joined forces with other women lecturers and administrators in challenging sex discrimination at the university, and in society as a whole.

UDSM had a rich seminar culture; nearly every arts, humanities and social science department organised weekly seminars involving both lecturers and students (undergraduate and graduate) in often heated debates on academic and political issues combined. Through these fora, scholars launched preliminary research reports and/research proposals for discussion and feedback. Some succeeded to draw a substantial number of ‘town’ people as well, providing space for a cross-exchange of views with government and political leaders, intellectuals [on/off campus] and increasingly, civil society activists. Most of my writing was presented in one of these seminars, and several became controversial. The progressive left at the university was dominated by dogmatic Marxists who had no conception of, nor tolerance for, the notion of (class/gender/race) intersectionality. They demanded a ‘purist’ static class analysis that could not grapple with the grey areas of structural change and power relations/struggles in post-colonial Tanzania. My critical analyses of race and gender were labelled diversionary in studies of colonial education and agriculture policies. My painstaking study of different forms of peasant differentiation in contemporary Tanzania, using Lenin’s methodology in his study of Rural Capitalism in Russia to examine the results of numerous empirical studies, was also denounced as ‘petty bourgeois thought’.

The seminars were exciting, but the discourse was brutal, personalised and macho. Participants focused on finding weaknesses in a paper and were only satisfied when they could thrash it to pieces. I remember the day in the mid-1970s when Deborah Bryceson and I presented our seminal paper on women’s involvement in peasant production and reproduction in Tanzania! A notable historian denounced the analysis, saying ‘you are dividing the masses!’ In my experience, the greatest resistance to gender/feminist analysis came from the Marxists – or from the right, from bourgeois nationalists who talked about how good things were ‘back home in the village where my mother is very happy’. Until today, many land rights activists repeat the same Marxist line, blind to the way in which social relations in peasant economies are constructed by gender, age and class relations, and women bear the brunt of government anti-peasant policies and lead the popular resistance against local plunder by mining, agriculture and tourist corporations.

In contrast to the university macho culture, I adopted an alternative style of discourse in my postgraduate seminars, whereby participants were expected to identify positive aspects and strengths of research proposals and essays, first, and then provide constructive criticism of weaknesses and gaps. The focus was on the text or narrative in question, and not the person. The women’s studies groups and feminist organisations I have been associated with have adopted a similar position, creating an alternative ‘safe’ space and style of discourse, described below, in order to encourage women, youth and other marginalised people to share their work and to learn to welcome helpful constructive criticism.

To what extent was there gender awareness and politics on the campus at that time? What was the gender composition of the student body and staff? Compared to the lives of women beyond the campus, did women students enjoy a degree of gender equality? 

The University was organised according to male bias principles, with blatant sex discrimination in terms of service for staff, and in practices of their recruitment, employment and promotion, as shared in my article, “Gender Struggles at the University of Dar es Salaam: A Personal Herstory”. Women lecturers and administration staff, including myself, organised ourselves informally to fight against sex discrimination in the early 1970s, galvanized by a blatant case of discrimination; thus began my involvement in collective struggles for women’s rights.

The composition of university staff became increasingly Tanzanian and/or East African during the 1970s and 1980s. Many of us participated in campus activism which centred around the struggle for socialism and against capitalism and imperialism, in general, and colonialism and apartheid which remained in several neighbouring countries and in the south. We also joined together as members and leaders of the University of Dar es Salaam Academic Staff Assembly (UDASA) in the 1980s to struggle for more democracy at the hill [as the university is known], with more voice from academics in making basic decisions, as well as for more substantive change in curriculum. Immediately however, the issue of sex discrimination at the university emerged as a problem and eventually a source of division. The major struggle emerged over efforts by women staff to organise ourselves through UDASA to denounce sex discrimination in employment, promotions, recruitment, etc and to demand change.

Nearly all women academics joined the women’s caucus within UDASA, and collectively carried out a quick survey to establish the number of women and men at different levels of employment within the university; the gender breakdowns in terms of student enrolment at undergraduate, MA and PhD level; and in leadership posts as heads of departments, deans and directors, and the top administration. We also investigated staff views about the causes of the problems and what to do about it. People documented the extent of sexual harassment of women staff and students, for example, and the lack of any serious strategy to deal with it.

A joint report was prepared collectively and presented at a special meeting of UDASA in Nkrumah Hall and aroused a major and intense debate. What was alarming and bitter for me was that the most furious rejection of the paper and of our demands for gender equity and equality came from progressive leftists! They took the position that the women’s caucus was dividing academic staff unity in the struggle against university bureaucracy and for academic rights; and that sex discrimination was a secondary contradiction!

Nevertheless, this organising activity helped to catalyse the setting up of a Gender Sensitisation unit [now Gender Studies] under the Chief Administrative Officer. The unit develops and implements gender sensitisation sessions for students and top management on an annual basis.

Another major area of discrimination which women faced, and which led to male biased research and a deformed curriculum for all students, was gender stereotyping in curriculum and research. There were no formal courses on ‘women’s studies’ or ‘gender studies’ let alone ‘feminist studies’ in those days, with the welcome early exception of a second year option course in Development Studies on ‘women’s liberation’. [An informal group of staff and non-staff feminists, including myself, developed and taught the course syllabus, and compiled appropriate readings, largely from unpublished papers]. Gender mainstreaming was carried out by many women and men staff to insert gender/women’s issues into course syllabi. Moreover, in Fine Arts, lecturers and drama groups created positive and active imagery of women who acted on their own behalf and were not simply victims. Students were also encouraged to research on gender issues in undergraduate and postgraduate essays as well as independent research and MA and PHD dissertations.

One way to validate gender/feminist studies was to compile an annotated bibliography of all the research reports and analytical essays written about women and/or gender issues in Tanzania, especially those written by Tanzanians themselves. Ophelia Mascarenhas and I prepared a bibliography on Women and Development for the African Centre for Research on Women at United Nations Economic Commission for Africa (UNECA), Addis Ababa, in the late 1970s. We shared the first cyclostyled version of this bibliography with participants in the Bureau of Resource Assessment and Land Use Planning (BRALUP) Workshop on Women and Development in 1979 as part of a process of celebration, validation and knowledge generation. Many of the authors cited in this work were participants; the Workshop represented a major contribution towards the recognition of women and gender studies as a valid area of analysis and research. Ophelia and I later expanded the number of items in the bibliography with more in-depth annotations, and wrote a substantive essay which focused specifically on the resistances and struggles of Tanzanian women against patriarchy and capitalism during the pre-colonial, colonial and post-colonial period. Women in Tanzania ((Scandinavian Institute of African Studies, 1983) deliberately challenged the usual western feminist view of African women as being powerless victims, or the bourgeois nationalist view that the concept of gender equity was a foreign importation, or the Marxist view that it was possible to separate gender and class struggles in the world of marginalised women.

Eventually and largely through the struggles of women academics and students, specific ‘gender’ courses were established in many social science related curriculum during the 1980s and 1990s. A good example is the MA optional course on Gender Issues and Socio-economic Development which we created in the Institute of Development Studies, and which I coordinated and taught until my retirement in 2003. This led later to a full-fledged Masters degree programme on gender and development.

As with other feminist initiatives, these efforts faced immediate resistance and backlash from fellow lecturers. Postgraduate students were told that women/gender-related dissertation themes were ‘not academic’, fellow lecturers were told that their research reports were irrelevant to Tanzanian realities and were influenced by foreign ideology. Vocal women students and lecturers who challenged the status quo faced a backlash. Many women, including myself, decided to organise ourselves in groups so as to provide solidarity and moral support, and enhance our power and capacity to make changes at curriculum and institutional level. Most notable for me were the Institute of Development Studies-Women Study Group [IDSWSG], which later gave birth to the Women Research and Documentation Project [WRDP] and the Tanzania Gender Network Programme [TGNP].

Please tell me more about how you engaged with gender/class issues in research and analysis on and off the University of Dar es Salaam campus. In your research and activism you use the concept of ‘animation’ – can you describe what this meant in practice and what kind of issues it was used to address?

My focus of research and analysis has been on gender and agrarian issues, beginning with studies of education in rural areas in the 1960s and 1970s; through analyses of changing gender and class relations in the rural economy based on participatory research in West Bagamoyo District (1980) and Rungwe District (1985-1990); rural food security in the context of the policy shift from public support for small family producers during the 1970s and early 1980s to free market policies with a growing emphasis on large-scale production in 1980s to the present. At the same time, I have been actively involved in creating advocacy and activist organistions, again on and off campus.

My initial terrain of engagement was in the field of education, and specifically teacher training at the UDSM. My first research experience at UDSM was survey research on parental decision-making about enrolment of girls and boys to primary school, based on field work in Tanga and Mwanza Rural Districts. This study helped to challenge stereotyped notions about ‘coastal’ and Islamic bias against girls’ education, and highlighted the significance of household income differentials in determining girls’ chances of going to school compared to boys. This led to the publication of my first book entitled The Education of Girls in Tanzania (Institute of Education, University of Dar es Salaam, 1969) and my PhD on the Decision to Educate in Rural Tanzania. It was also the first and last time I relied entirely on research assistants for field research. I have been actively involved in participatory action research ever since usually as part of research teams.

While in the Education Department I coordinated and participated in the Secondary School Research Project during the 1970s, using participatory research methods and partnering student teachers and myself with role modelteachers to observe each other’s teaching methods and classroom interaction, with a focus on gender relations. A joint report on our findings was presented to teachers in participating secondary schools and widely endorsed, and included the teachers’ recommendation that they be allowed to organise themselves in an independent teachers’ union. Although the Ministry of Education closed down the project in retaliation, the Tanzanian Teachers Association was formed not long afterwards.

Linking academic work and activism, several researchers outside as well as within the university embraced and further strengthened the concept of participatory action research, or animation, in the late 1970s, and eventually formed the Tanzanian Participatory Research Network, a forerunner of the African Participatory Research Network. Animation is predicated on the understanding that women and men who are exploited and oppressed are active knowers of the situation and many of its causes. Animators or facilitators use a variety of participatory methods, including codification pictures, case studies and drama, to provoke the oppressed to assess their/our situation, analyse the major causes and act to make change happen.

Animation creates a creative and dynamic space in which the class/ethnic/gender differences between ‘researchers’ and/or middle-class activists and members of the marginalised exploited class of, in this case, women, are recognised and challenged. Illiterate working women become teachers, and together we create new knowledge and plan strategies of action. In the case of ‘real’ participatory action research, the activist researchers participate in and/or follow up the action of their grassroots partners. The results of the knowledge so produced are immediately shared with participants in the animation research and others in the community, including village government leaders, and later, district leaders, and so on [or it could be with teachers and school heads; factory management, etc], in order to receive critical feedback and plan together how to move forward. Creative use is made of alternative forms of communications and media, especially local forms of song, dance, poetry, drama, and art work, as well as interactive videos.

In the late 1970s and early 1980s, I was actively involved in two off-campus participatory action research programmes which became milestones for animation in Tanzania, the Christian Council of Tanzania’s Vocational Education Project and the Jipemoyo Research programme discussed below. Jipemoyo was hosted by the Tanzanian Government’s Ministry of Culture with Finnish support, with two co-directors, the late Odhiambo Anacleti and Prof Marja Lisa Swantz during the late 1970s and 1980s. Based in West Bagamoyo District, Jipemoyo worked with pastoralists [Waparakuyu] and cultivators [Wakwere] in ‘ujamaa’ (socialist) villages near Lugoba trading centre; I participated in regular meetings to reflect on the varied research experiences, and carried out field research for a short time [one month] in a very poor village called Diozile, following on the heels of another researcher [Asseny Muro]. We both focused our respective studies on changing gender relations at household and community level in the cultivating community. I remember being struck by the high level of political awareness among village women and youth, who actively challenged corrupt village government leaders and demanded change. I also learned more about the changing but still empowering aspects of matrilineal society and the intricacies of polygamous life.

Regional and district authorities in West Bagamoyo were unsettled by the way in which community activists organised themselves, provided articulate and informed critique of dysfunctional policies and corrupt leadership, and won the attention of a broad audience beyond the local level. This led to a backlash, but the lessons learned by the Jipemoyo experience informed later participatory action research and organising activities.

Animation work has provided me with invaluable learning experiences, helped to ground me locally, and strengthened my understanding and knowledge about the interlinkage between patriarchy and neo-liberal globalisation. . In the world of a peasant woman, there is no question that gender, class and imperialism are integrally linked together: she confronts and resists these relationships on a daily basis. In the same vein, providing students in a secondary school – and their teachers – with the opportunity to reflect on their different realities and design alternative ways of learning not only produces new knowledge, it also contributes to immediate change in and out of the classroom.

Personal life histories became one avenue to explore changes and struggles through the subjective life experience of individual women (and men).In 1985 I devoted a sabbatical to analysing changes that took place in class, race and gender relations in Rungwe during the colonial and immediate post-colonial period. In the 1940s and 1950s, more than one fourth of young Nyakyusa men worked as migrant labourers in the Copperbelt of then Northern Rhodesia or the gold mines of South Africa – I wanted to find out what happened to the women. In depth interviews were carried out with several elderly women and men in Rungwe,  as well as archival research at the ‘Rungwe mission’ at Tukuyu, Rhodes House, Oxford University; the National Archives of the UK at Kew; and Tanzanian National Archives. It was exciting to discover all the fuss caused by rebellious ‘runaway wives’ in Rungwe, according to reports by male district commissioners, the Native Affairs Commissioner, managers of copper mines, and ‘native chiefs’ in the archives and then to go find out what older women and men had to say about it. Oral history confirmed the fact that large numbers of Rungwe women ran away from forced marriages and joined their ‘brothers’ in the migration to the Copperbelt. Alliances were formed between colonial officers, mining management and local ‘chiefs’ to bring the unruly women home! These and other stories confirmed the fact that ‘the personal is political’; and that ‘custom and tradition’ were inventions of the colonisers and their local male allies.

In colonial Rungwe, the Moravian Church provided an emancipatory space for many women who struggled to overcome the patriarchal oppression and discrimination they experienced at home. Women could become elders, and travel from one village to another for days on end with their male colleagues. Yet both the Moravian and the Lutheran church practiced racist and sexist policies in the colonial days and refused to ordain African ministers for many years. Discriminatory wage structures were found in mission schools, hospitals as well as the church, with different wages for African and Europeans, and within each racial category, women were paid the least – if they were paid at all.

An elderly woman named Rebeka Kalindile became my teacher, mentor, mother and partner in countless debates over patriarchy and colonialism at this time. Together we compiled her life story in an animation process, focusing on those events and happenings which Rebeka believed were most significant. Rebeka forced me to interrogate my own strategies of resistance; one of her favourite slogans was ‘you have to be clever’ [‘lazima uwe mjanja’], imbibing classical conceptions of resistance by slaves as well as women. [1]

I presented the results of my Rungwe studies in my Professorial Lecture of 1985, later published as Big Slavery, Agribusiness and the Crisis in Women’s Employment in Tanzania (Dar Es Salaam University Press, 1991). Big Slavery explores the interaction between patriarchy and capitalism through the histories of women’s resistances in the private and public domain during the colonial and post-colonial period.

In 1998, a group of four university researchers – Bertha Koda, Claude Mung’ongo, Timothy Nyoni and myself – began the Rural Food Security Policy and Development Group, otherwise known as KIHACHA, which was situated within IDS and guided by a national advisory committee consisting of leaders from four activist civil society organisations. During 1998 through 2002 we carried out intensive animation work in Ngorongoro, Shinyanga and later Njombe Rural Districts, inviting peasant women and men to assess the situation of food security in their local context, analyse the basic causes and decide on concrete actions to improve if not radically transform the situation. Feedback sessions were held at village, district and national level where village activists helped to explain the findings to government officials and NGO leaders, and argued on behalf of the recommendations and demands which they had generated in the animation process.

KIHACHA participants agreed on one core campaign slogan, ‘haki ya chakula, ardhi na demokrasia’ [the right to food, land and democracy] through intensive discussion in each of the nine participating villages. KIHACHA produced a powerful set of campaign messages using colourful popular leaflets, posters, t-shirts, song and a drama – the last two items produced by one of our most accomplished theatre groups, Parapanda in close consultation with the research team. E & D Limited, the only woman-owned publishing house in Tanzania, designed and copublished all of our leaflets, posters and publications, including Food is Politics (KIHACHA, IDS, University of Dar es Salaam, 2002). HakiElimu leaders helped design the cartoons used and supervised the work of the artists. In other words, KIHACHA pulled together and depended upon the creative talent, expertise and commitment of a wide array of individuals and organisations.

An informal loose coalition was also created almost spontaneously around 2000 called the KIHACHA Network, consisting of more than 30 grassroots groups and national NGOs. The network helped plan the KIHACHA campaign which was launched to the wide public in 2002, and voluntarily disseminated the campaign materials throughout the country, using their own partners at local level. Working closely with the media, videos capturing the images and voices of women and men grassroots activists were shown on national news, denouncing the devastating impact of both patriarchy and globalisation/neo-liberalism.

As a scholar activist, your contribution to the establishment and support of collective organising in civil society is well known. Which organisations have, in your experience, made a substantial impact, even if short lived, in the struggle to enhance equity and social justice? Who was involved and what was your role in them?

I have been actively involved in several exciting advocacy groups, including Kuleana (Mwanza), HakiElimu, Institute of Development Studies (IDS) Women Study Group, Women’s Research and Documentation Project (WRDP) and TGNP Mtandao [formerly known as Tanzania Gender Networking Programme]. With other organisations, TGNP Mtandao also created and hosted the Feminist Activist Coalition, FemAct. Let me focus on IDSWSG, WRDP and TGNP Mtandao.

As shown above, the university was a hostile place for any woman who was critical about sexism and wanted to change things. Some of us were desperate to learn more about what causes such intense patriarchal structures and attitudes and behaviour, so as to change them. Out of that desire for space to learn more together, came the seeds of what became the IDS Women Study Group. A small group of women [Tanzanian and non-Tanzanian] began to meet together informally in our homes as a study group in 1978. We read top feminist literature from Europe, North America and Asia; and began to concentrate on writings by African feminists. By 1980 our group had expanded and we decided to seek a base in IDS, becoming one of the first IDS Study Groups, along with two others on rural development and workers.

IDS-WSG grew rapidly to 30 members and met on a weekly basis, with no funding of any kind. The majority were not working at the university, a very important point in our later struggles, and many were not ‘academics’; two thirds were Tanzanian. From the start, we worked collectively, with an elected leadership structure; I was elected as the first Convenor. We decided to carry out our own research on ‘the women’s question’, and began to prepare proposals for fundraising, working collectively according to themes such as women peasants; women in the media; women and education. The separate research proposals were compiled into one organisational proposal, to which we added basic costs to facilitate the development of a documentation centre; as well as a four wheel drive vehicle to support the research work. We successfully negotiated for a grant from Ford Foundation. Just as we were about to receive the money and the car in 1982, the all-male IDS management team intervened and claimed that all such resources belonged to the institute! They directed that the research funds go to the Institute’s Research and Publications Committee which would decide how to allocate them!

A clear case of male domination, oppression and appropriation, this was exactly what happened to the women cooperatives which we had studied in ujamaa villages, and now it was happening to us! The group members refused to accept the hijacking of their proposal, and asked the funder to retain the funds until we could access them ourselves. The original IDS-WSG members moved out of the institute and formed an entirely new organisation which was registered independently as the Women’s Research and Documentation Project, WRDP, in 1983. WRDP members went on to conduct research, organise a series of workshops with government and civil society leaders to share the results of their analysis, and established the Women’s Research and Documentation Centre in the ground floor of the university library, one of the top collections on gender/feminist issues in the nation at that time. For many years WRDP was a leading critical voice on behalf of women’s issues, and helped to lead Tanzanian women NGOs to the Women’s World Forum in Nairobi in 1985.

During the 1980s and 1990s several other women focused organisations were set up at the university, focusing on science and technology; and on education. The scientists succeeded to get a change in university student recruitment; with affirmative action to provide pre-first year courses in sciences and mathematics for young women, initiatives later institutionalised within and by the university.

The Kikundi cha Akina Mama Mlimani (KAMM: Women at University Campus) was an entirely different kind of group which concentrated on improving the welfare of women, children and their families at the university in a practical way. Begun in 1989, one of their major achievements was the setting up of a community library at the UDASA club on the hill which had a strong children’s collection. KAMM also organised other children’s activities for the campus community, such as film shows, sports, and art lessons. Numbering some 20 women, the members of the group lived at the hill; they were not all staff. This provides a creative example of alternative ways of organising.[2]

In 1992 and 1993, a group of about ten women and men came together with me as coordinator  to facilitate a triple A process of reflection and planning for the leaders of top women/gender civil society organisations, in preparation for their participation in the Women’s Decade meeting in Beijing in 1995. With the support of the Royal Netherlands Embassy and the NGO SNV, more than 30 women activists shared their experiences and strategies of organising for the promotion of women’s rights and gender equity at the national and district levels in three workshops, and planned concrete strategies of action for the future. The combination of rigorous feminist theory and animation methodology led to a high level of analysis and participation, and fostered enthusiastic networking among ourselves and with East African organisations who participated in the 1993 regional preparatory meeting in Kampala.

The results of this analysis and planning were edited by TGNP and published as the first Gender Profile of Tanzania in 1993. More important, however, was the demand by participating NGOs that a new networking organisation be established by the facilitation committee. In 1993 the Tanzania Gender Networking Programme (TGNP) was established as a membership organisation by the original committee members. We moved into our own office in town, and I became the first Executive Director [then called Coordinator], on leave from the University for three years [1994-1996].

From the start, we were committed to a struggle against patriarchy and neo-liberal globalisation which focused on gender, class and imperial/race relationships and their transformation. Eventually we named this transformative feminism. We also were committed to retaining and strengthening a collective process and culture of decision making, drawing on the experience several of us had had in WRDP, which was based on group centred leadership rather than the usual leader centred group. The continued reliance on animation and collective decision-making enabled TGNP to sustain itself and grow in spite of many challenges. We adopted concrete activist strategies from the start, along with gender mainstreaming, which enabled TGNP and its partners in the Feminist Activist Coalition (FemAct) to reach out to the wider public on many issues and have our views noted, and in some cases, acted upon. This provided members and staff with a support group and a base for feminist activist work which helped to keep us grounded locally while acting at all levels.[3]

TGNP Mtandao adopted multiple strategies, including training and consciousness-raising using animation approaches; knowledge generation, dissemination and information through participatory action research, multi media platforms and policy analysis; advocacy work on strategic issues with strategic government sectors/departments, local government authorities, and members of Parliament; and media engagement at all levels. Of particular importance is the Intensive Movement Building Cycle, combining participatory action research, support for local knowledge centres and linkages with investigative journalists. Community activists have succeeded to raise gender/class issues with government and non-government leaders, including the commercial private sector, and through wide media coverage, their demands have been met in many cases. In the process, women and youth leaders in particular have strengthened their negotiation and advocacy skills, as well as their understanding of macro-economic policy, structures and systems.[4]

I remained an active member of TGNP Mtandao after returning to my employment at the University of Dar es Salaam. In 2003, I retired from academia and became the ‘Principal Policy Analyst’ at TGNP for ten years [2004-2014], devoting much of my time to mentoring younger scholar activists in policy and budget analysis and participatory action research. During its now 24 years of activism, TGNP Mtandao has become one of the most outspoken and visible advocates for gender equity, social justice and women’s empowerment in Tanzania and Africa, challenging both patriarchy and capitalist globalisation.

Notes

[1]Marjorie Mbilinyi”I’d have been a Man!  Politics and the Labour Process in producing Personal Narratives’ in Personal narratives Group (eds) Interpreting Women’s Lives (Indiana University Press, 1989) and Marjorie Mbilinyi and Rebeka Kalindile “Grassroot Struggles for Women’s Advancement: the story of RebekaKalindile” in Bertha Koda and Magdalena NgaizaedsThe Unsung Heroines (Dar es Salaam, DUP for WRDP Publications 1991).

[2]See my chapter, “Transformative Education and the Strengthening of Civil Society” in Haroub Othman (ed) Reflections on Leadership in Africa (Dar es Salaam, IDS/UDSM, 2000).

[3]See Marjorie Mbilinyi, Mary Rusimbi, Chachage S L Chachage & DemereKitunga (eds)Activist Voices: Feminist Struggles for an Alternative World (Dar es Salaam, TGNP & E&D Limited, 2003

[4]  See  Marjorie Mbilinyi “Transformative Feminism in Tanzania: Animation and Grassroots Women’s Struggles For Land and Livelihoods” in Oxford Handbook of Transnational Feminist Movements: Knowledge, Power and Social Change, ed Rawwida Baksh and Wendy Harcourt, New York: Oxford University Press (2015) and Marjorie Mbilinyi and Gloria Shechambo “Experiences in Transformative Feminist Movement Building at the Grassroots Level in Tanzania” in Akosua Adomako Ampofo, Cheryl R Rodriguez & Dzodzi Tsikata eds Transatlantic Feminisms: Women and Gender Studies in Africa and the African Diaspora (Lexington, 2015).

Living a Committed Life: A Tribute to Abdul Raufu Mustapha

By Jibrin Ibrahim

Abdul Raufu Mustapha, who died on 8 August 2017, was a Professor of African Politics at Oxford University in the United Kingdom. Raufu was a towering presence in African academic networks and will be remembered as a sterling scholar and a committed comrade who devoted his life to leaving the world better than he found it. For Raufu, the purpose of life was the construction of a better society and he had a clear idea of what such a society meant – more equality, more opportunities for all, access to qualitative and critical education and above all, catering for the needs of all members of society. What was important about his life was that he always believed that a better society was possible and we all have a role in bringing it about. In other words, his life was about our agency in constructing a better society.

Background

Raufu was born in Aba, Eastern Nigeria on 24 July 1954 and was the ninth of 19 siblings, all of whom are still alive. His father, who is also still alive, is Ishola Mustapha from Ilorin, a retired foreman and mechanic at Niger Motors and United Africa Company (UAC) while his mother, Rabia Mustapha, was a trader. He started his education at St. Michael’s Primary School, Aba and finished at Fagge Primary School in Kano before going to Federal Government College Sokoto. After A-Levels at Ilorin, he proceeded to Ahmadu Bello University, Zaria where he emerged as the best student in political science in 1977 and the best graduate student of political science that sat for the 1979 examinations. Having lived and schooled in Aba, Kano, Sokoto, Zaria and Ilorin, Raufu was fluent in Igbo, Hausa and Yoruba languages and felt at home in all parts of the country. Nigeria, for him, was his extended family. 

Family

Raufu had the good fortune of being married to a friend and intellectual soul mate, Kate Meagher, originally from Canada. They met in Sheffield in 1988 and married in Toronto in 1990. Dr. Meagher, a sociologist who taught for six years at the Institute for Agricultural Research of Ahmadu Bello University, is currently an Associate Professor in the Department of International Development of the London School of Economics. They had two children, Asma’u Ajoke Laide Meagher Mustapha, born 1993, and Yahaya Oluseyi Mustapha, born 1995. Family for Raufu was however not just the nuclear one, but also his vast extended family and the larger Nigerian and African family.

Friendship

Raufu had exceptional social skills that enabled him to maintain and sustain a vast array of friends, many from his days in primary and secondary schools. He devoted a lot of the one resource he had very little of, time, to contact his friends, visit them, socialize, stay in touch with the evolution of their lives and families, and to generally sustain his rich network of friendship. He included time for his friends in his numerous travels, going out of his way to visit friends and maintain relationships. His kindness, charm, humour and cheerful banter made it easy for his friends to appreciate his value and contributions to their lives.

Scholarship

Raufu is best known for his scholarship. After his masters at Ahmadu Bello University, he did his PhD in Politics at Oxford, under the supervision of Gavin Williams. After his long sojourn as a lecturer in Ahmadu Bello University, he transferred his services to Oxford University where he worked for the rest of his life. He was a committed scholar and was well versed in multi-disciplinary approaches and methodologies. He had a formidable presence in African academic networks and was a valuable member of CODESRIA, the organisation that hosts the African social science community. He was a member of their Scientific Committee and recently participated in the internal review of their Intellectual Agenda. Raufu was always available and keen to provide insights into the state of Africa’s social sciences and its future in a changing global context. Over the past two years, he invested time and resources to seek the support of the Dangote Foundation to establish a scholarship scheme.

For Raufu, scholarship was the scientific expression of the political values of the researcher. The promotion of social change on the basis of scientific and critical thought through the pursuit of a progressive agenda that prioritises the interests of ordinary people was central to his research. At the same time, he addressed the challenges to social cohesion posed by identity politics – ethnicity and religion identity in particular. In all of his work, he promoted democratic culture, its values, principles and practices.

In 2008, he co-edited Gulliver’s Troubles: Nigeria’s Foreign Policy After the Cold War; and edited Conflicts and Security in West Africa in 2013. He served on the Boards of journals, newspapers, and research centres, including the Review of African Political Economy, Premium Times in Abuja, and the Development Research and Projects Centre in Kano.

Raufu is very much the product of the radical politics that characterised Ahmadu Bello University during the 1970s and 1980s. He was also a leading cadre of the radical movement and two examples of the role he played are worth citing – the Movement for a Progressive Nigeria and the Zaria Group.

Radicalism

Throughout his undergraduate days in Ahmadu Bello University – 1974-1977, Raufu was one of the leaders of the Movement for Progressive Nigeria (MPN), the incarnation of the radical Marxist philosophy and praxis that marked the period. Radicalism for Raufu meant breaking the bond between imperialism and the Nigerian (African) State as a precondition for emancipating the people from oppression and exploitation. Central to this approach was understanding imperialism as a world system with tentacles in the economy, trade, ideology and politics of affected societies. Throughout the period, he worked tirelessly organizing Marxist study cells, identifying comrades who could be recruited and trained and above all, linking the activities of the MPN to the key questions of the time – combating apartheid and the racist regimes of Southern Africa, promoting the just struggles of the Palestinian people, organizing against military dictatorship at home and activating links between the student and trade union movements.

Under his leadership, the MPN became a formidable force in the University that was able to influence the leadership of the student union and the radical agenda that characterised political life on campus and across campuses, as he also linked up with other radical organisations in other institutions. A considerable part of his time, energy and intellect during his student days were devoted to these issues, which are not reflected in his CV. Raufu also invested considerable talent and commitment to ensuring that good new leadership emerged, which could sustain the movement after his graduation. Immediately after his National Youth Service Programme in Kano, he returned to the university as a graduate assistant to continue the struggle.

Zaria Group

Upon graduation, Raufu transited to the Zaria Group, the Marxist Movement composed of lecturers and intellectuals that provided leadership for radical thought and praxis as well as linkages to the larger Nigerian, African and international struggles. The Zaria Group was not the only leftist group in the university. There was another group of radicals that was to later align with the left-wing Peoples Redemption Party that pursued Aminu Kano’s pro-talakawa (common peoples’) struggles. It was a period of intense factionalism and Raufu devoted his time, energy and skills to promoting the “correct” Marxist-Leninist understanding of the problematic. That story has still not been told but with more members of the Zaria Group transiting to the next world, it will be useful to tell that story.

One of the occasions to deepen the internal debate among progressives was the Karl Marx Centenary Anniversary Conference, jointly organised by the various strands of Marxists and Progressives in Zaria in 1983. Raufu presented a thoughtful and incisive critique of the People’s Redemption Party experience [the PRP, formed in the late 1970s, was a party of the progressive left and had considerable support], entitled “Critical Notes on the National Question: Practical Politics and the People’s Redemption Party.” It was a major contribution that provided room to revive the debate on the contending pathways to progressive change.

Constructing the Nation

Raufu’s most important commitment involved addressing the challenges to social cohesion posed by identities – ethnicity and religion in particular. One of his most important research interests was ethnicity and the national question. He took the task of constructing and stabilizing Nigerian federalism seriously throughout his career, and invested his skills in producing a better understanding of ethnicity in Nigeria’s political system. In 1986, he published “The National Question and Radical Politics in Nigeria” in a special issue on Nigeria in the Review of African Political Economy [all of Raufu’s article can be accessed for free by logging on/registering here]. He also extended this commitment to improving our understanding of the Boko Haram insurgency.

Understanding Boko Haram

Some of Raufu’s most important works were carried out over the past five years and were devoted to promoting a scientific understanding of the Boko Haram insurgency and seeking pathways to peace. Over the period, he has worked with around twenty younger researchers from Nigeria, Niger and Europe, producing a corpus of seminal work that is empirically based and theoretically sound. The work addresses Muslim identities, Islamic movements and Muslim-Christian relations. The researchers have closely examined the factors that promoted Islamist radicalization, the paths that have emerged and the reasons that made Borno the ground zero of the insurgency. They have also examined the research question: why Islamist radicalization occurred in Northern Nigeria but not in Southern Niger, which has the same sociological, religious, geographic, linguistic and cultural characteristics.

The research has so far resulted in two important edited volumes: Sects and Social Disorder: Muslim Identities and Conflict in Northern Nigeria”, published in 2014; and Creed and Grievance: Muslim-Christian Relations and Conflict Resolution in Northern Nigeria, to be published in January 2018. The projects on Boko Haram have also produced many policy papers that have been made available for the use of government and its security agencies as well as the community of scholars.

Raufu’s burning desire over the past few years was the imperative of understanding the insurgency so that we could begin the difficult process of addressing the core issues of poverty, inequality and the crumbling social order, all of which have wreaked havoc on Nigerian society and are dismantling the nation. Ultimately, his concern was the construction of a peaceful united country with a progressive social system that would address the needs of all its citizens. His numerous, relations, friends and comrades will continue to miss Raufu.

Jibrin Ibrahim is a Senior Fellow at the Centre for Democracy and Development in Abuja, Nigeria

Voting for the Devil you Know: Kenya’s 2017 election

By Nic Cheeseman, Gabrielle Lynch and Justin Willis

On 11 August 2017, Kenya’s Independent Electoral and Boundaries Commission (IEBC) announced Uhuru Kenyatta of the Jubilee Party (JP) the winner of the presidential election held on 8 August, with 54.2 percent of the popular vote and turnout of almost 80 percent of registered voters. Kenyatta’s re-election has been disputed by opposition leader, Raila Odinga, and the National Super Alliance (NASA), who – in the days following the polls – made a series of allegations, some of them apparently mutually contradictory. This included claims that the vote transmission system was hacked and, separately, that the “real” results leaked to the opposition by an IEBC insider placed Odinga ahead of Kenyatta. Shortly before the final results were announced, the NASA chairman then led a walk-out of their party agents from the national tallying centre, while the chief agent, James Orengo, declared that NASA would not go to court to challenge the result, but seek other “constitutional means” – which seemed to leave street protest as their only option. Most recently, on Sunday 13 August, Odinga called on people not to go to work until a further statement was made on Tuesday 15 August, while Orengo called for people to prepare for mass action.

Prior to the election, many opposition politicians and supporters had been confident of their victory. Principal opposition leaders and parties had come together behind a single presidential flagbearer, and campaigned on a populist ticket that included a promise to address historical injustice and socio-economic marginalisation, create jobs, and lower prices. In contrast, the ruling JP called upon Kenyans to elect them for a second term on their claimed track record of security provision and economic development, and promise to create more jobs.  The election also took place in a difficult socio-economic context. This included high food prices, a shortage of maize flour or unga (the national staple), rampant corruption, high un- and under-employment (especially amongst the youth), an increase in extra-judicial killings, and a cold war between the government and prominent human rights organisations, which called into question the governments ability to provide security and development. For many in the opposition, the dire economic situation, combined with the newfound unity of the opposition, Odinga’s record of struggle, and NASA’s populist campaign, was reason enough to believe that the NASA wave would be unstoppable.

NASA supporters waiting for Canaan at Uhuru Park rally (Nic Cheeseman, July 2017)

However, while Kenyatta’s margin of victory is bigger than most had expected, it is by no means implausible. A number of opinion polls had put Kenyatta slightly ahead in the final weeks of the campaign, and the results are closely in line with a sample parallel vote tally conducted by a group of domestic observers – the Elections Observation Group (ELOG) – which projected a Kenyatta victory of 54.0 percent with a margin of error of +/- 1.9 percent.

Critically, Kenya’s results management process had been designed to remove any element of suspicion, and to defuse allegations of rigging through transparency. All of the relevant forms, from polling stations and constituencies, were to be posted online and available for public scrutiny. However, at the time of writing, this had not yet happened, so the exact results cannot be verified. Nevertheless, no hard evidence has yet been provided to counter the fact that the opposition failed to achieve the political tsunami they had predicted at any level of the elections in which Kenyans voted for six separate levels of representation. Instead, JP managed to make significant inroads into several NASA strongholds, securing a majority in both the National Assembly and Senate; while JP or JP-leaning candidates won 28 of 47 gubernatorial races.  

How did JP manage to do so well despite the socio-economic context? The answer lies both in the shortcomings of the opposition’s campaign and in the strategy adopted by the JP.

First, while the multiple parties of the NASA alliance agreed on a single presidential candidate, in many places they contested against each other at the local level. By contrast, Kenyatta and his deputy William Ruto had converted their two party coalition from 2013 – the Jubilee Alliance – into the JP, integrating a number of other smaller outfits along the way. This had the advantage of generating a more efficient campaign with a common slate of candidates. As a result, local party structures and local aspirants for the members of county assembly (MCA), member of parliament (MP), senate, women’s representative, and governorship, and their networks were all effectively harnessed to campaign for Kenyatta’s re-election, and vice versa.

In addition to building a more effective political vehicle, the JP invested heavily in its strongholds and potential swing areas, but also did not neglect the strongholds of its opponents. In the latter, they seem to have made effective use of the localised campaigns of aspirant MCA’s who usually had little hope of winning, but perhaps sought other rewards for increasing the president’s vote in their own backyards.

Raila Odinga speaking at a rally in Narok County (Gabrielle Lynch, 28 June 2017)

The ruling party also reaped significant benefits from the power of incumbency as local administrators and officials helped to campaign for candidates at all levels, benefiting from the use of state resources, in direct contravention of the electoral rules and regulations. In this way, civil servants were openly drawn into the JP campaign, and government vehicles were used for it; while the principal Jubilee candidates evidently had ample money to spend.

However, even more important were local perceptions about who was best placed to foster economic stability and development. Politics in Kenya has a strong ethnic logic. Kenyatta and Ruto hail from Kenya’s largest and third largest communities respectively and, while many Kikuyu and Kalenjin were angry about the economy – and particularly about high food prices, insufficient jobs and corruption – many felt that their interests would be better catered for under the leadership of one of ‘their own’, rather than under the leadership of ‘other’ communities who might redistribute resources away from them and ‘their communities’.

Even outside of the Jubilee strongholds, the government ran a highly effective campaign that emphasised its achievements to date – such as local electrification and road projects – and which also questioned the opposition’s capacity and intentions. In this way, much was made of corruption in NASA-controlled county governments and also of the limited development records of leading NASA figures – all of whom had been in government at one point in time or another.

Finally, but far from least, an effective social media campaign cast Odinga as a dangerous individual who would divide Kenya and cause chaos. This message drew upon the history of the 2007 election when Odinga’s rejection of President Kibaki’s re-election triggered post-election violence, which led to the death of over 1,000 people and displacement of almost 700,000 others. Odinga may have inadvertently lent strength to this narrative through his decision to constantly challenge the integrity of the IEBC in the run-up to the election, and by his comments on land and other resources.

For example, in June 2017, Odinga hit the headlines for his statements to a British journalist that he would dismantle white-owned ranches in Laikipia County if elected; while at a rally in Kajiado he urged Maasai not to sell land to outsiders “who have come to invade” and to look forward to 8 August as the “third and final revolution”. Moreover, while Odinga argued that he had been misquoted with respect to Laikipia, he defended his comments in Kajiado. JP politicians were quick to criticise this rhetoric as hate speech and incitement, prompting heated debates on social media about what an Odinga victory would mean for those with land and property outside of their ‘home’ area. This was then interwoven with other controversial issues, such as Odinga’s stance on rent. For example, on the occasion of the presentation of his presidential nomination papers to the IEBC at the end of May, Odinga promised to lower the cost of living in 90 days if elected by targeting food prices and rent. Almost immediately, claims were made on social media that this constituted support for demands by rent-payers for lower rent and for a periodic refusal to pay rent; positions which have historically been associated with significant violence.

In this way, JP were able to use some of Odinga’s own statements to play into a long-running trope in which he is depicted as a harbinger of division and political instability. That JP were able to do this despite both of their principal leaders having been charged with crimes against humanity by the International Criminal Court prior to the 2013 election – with the cases later collapsing amidst claims of witness intimidation and bribery – demonstrates the extent to which this narrative has taken hold in pro-government strongholds. When seen in this light, the results leave Kenya’s opposition, and its supporters, in a difficult place.

NASA’s accusations of electoral malpractice resonate with many of their core supporters who understand them in the context of a history of election manipulation, and who bitterly resent what they see as the long political and economic dominance of central Kenya and the Rift Valley. However, a refusal to go to the Supreme Court and more explicit appeal for a general strike, and call for people to prepare for mass protests, is an extremely risky strategy.

First, it increases the potential for loss of life. A day after the results were announced, and in the absence of significant protest, the Kenya National Commission for Human Rights already estimated that 24 people had died from bullet wounds most likely inflicted by the security forces, and noted that they were seeking to verify additional deaths and injuries. This came amidst reports of security officers cordoning-off certain parts of Nairobi and Kisumu, and of beatings, shootings and rape – a heavy-handed response to limited protest, which reflects a culture of impunity, where many people (and particularly poor young men) are shot by police on a regular basis; the extent to which young residents of informal settlements have been cast as actual or potential criminals; and extensive security preparations ahead of the election in the wake of claims of inadequate preparation in 2007. Second, if NASA do refuse to go to court and attempt to mobilise mass action, any unrest that results will be used by Odinga’s rivals to further demonise his leadership and his coalition.

This reality means that NASA finds itself caught between a rock and a hard place. Having set out to undermine the credibility of the elections, their most hard-core supporters expect a strong response. Failing to deliver risks being perceived as weak, but taking on the might of the state would represent political suicide for Odinga and some of his closest allies, and would likely go hand-in-hand with a violent security lockdown of certain opposition strongholds. It therefore seems likely that for the millions who really believed that the election would bring political and economic transformation and lead them out of unemployment and high prices – as Odinga put it – into Canaan, the outcome of the election will be a deep disappointment whatever happens at this point. Thus, while the electoral process, and the results, currently look much more credible than any since 2002 in the absence of hard evidence to the contrary, they still leave the country deeply divided, and with an opposition weakened by electoral loss, and with diminished credibility beyond its core constituencies.

Nic Cheeseman is Professor of Democracy and International Development at Birmingham University. Gabrielle Lynch is Professor of Comparative Politics at the University of Warwick and Chair of ROAPE. Justin Willis is Professor of Modern African History at the University of Durham. 

Featured Photograph: A rally in Narok County (Gabrielle Lynch, 4 August 2017)

Always a Rebel: the life of Ken Post

By David Seddon

Ken Post, 1935-2017, Professor Emeritus at the Institute of Social Studies, The Hague, died on 11 March 2017, on his 82nd birthday. I did not know Ken well on a personal basis, as did many comrades but he was one of the major influences on my late-flowering radical years, first when I was a post-graduate student at the LSE and then a lecturer in African sociology and anthropology at SOAS, and subsequently through my own long years at the School of Development Studies at the University of East Anglia. I have read most of his published work and was fortunate to be able to share his ideas and experiences first-hand in various workshops and seminars over the years. 

Born in 1935 in Chatham, Kent, into a working-class family (his father was a construction worker), Ken was very much a child of the post-war Welfare State. He went to a grammar school and won a state scholarship to Cambridge University, where he joined the Cambridge Footlights and the Cambridge Union (to become President). It was at Cambridge that he laid the foundations for his subsequent career as a researcher, university teacher and political activist – in all of which he was an effective agent provocateur and non-conformist – while all the while retaining the distinctive Estuary English accent of which he seemed quite proud.

It is said of him that, after reading on Marx’s theory of surplus value, he realized that it described his father’s world and therefore his family life, and decided he was a Marxist. He was undoubtedly very much influenced – as were so many of his generation, and mine – by the ‘events’ of 1968, and was indeed a self-declared Marxist. He never was, however, a card-carrying member of any particular party or tendency. He also never registered for a PhD. He was an inveterate maverick yet managed to have a long and largely successful academic career.

He taught in Nigeria, England, the USA, Jamaica and in the Netherlands, from 1969 until early retirement in 1990. His colleagues at the Institute of Social Studies remember him as ‘a remarkable teacher. Many former students will remember his famous lectures. Entering the classroom, he could ask the students what was on the agenda, then lecture for 45 minutes without notes’. I personally recall his ability both to enliven and to illuminate a seminar discussion, without pontificating but with a somewhat scary ability to command a vast range of diverse and usually relevant examples and experiences, drawn from his own research and from the work of others, and to combine these with an innovative theoretical twist into an original analysis. The last debates in which I remember Ken participating were in the long series of conferences on Alternative Futures and Popular Protest organized over the years by Colin Barker at Manchester University. At one of these, both Ken Post and Dorothy Thompson spoke; it was a memorable occasion.

His academic published work includes the outcome of his research on Nigeria, for which he is probably best known. This first came to my attention when teaching West African anthropology at SOAS in the early 1970s, and re-visited in later years when I was writing on African popular movements and class struggle. When the Centre of West African Studies was established at the University of Birmingham in 1963, its first director, John Fage, attracted a series of academic stars to build and share expertise on Africa. Ken Post had gained his academic credentials by writing a study of the Nigerian federal election of 1959, which were the prelude to independence; and he was hired. In its detailed analysis of constituency politics, this book remains unrivalled. Ken went on to publish a more concise volume with Penguin in 1964, which he entitled The New States of West Africa.  This book sold many copies and attracted many doctoral and masters studies to Birmingham to work under Ken Post’s direction. He also published Structure and Conflict in Nigeria, 1960-1965 and The Price of Liberty: Personality and Politics in Colonial Nigeria.

After a stint at the University of the West Indies – and a period of what Peter Waterman describes (in his ‘Dedication to Ken Post’ shortly before his death) as ‘stormy academic-political adventures’ – he returned to England. It seems that, although he identified himself with the Left and with the social movement he wrote about, he was expelled from Jamaica for his alleged ties to a Rastafari-linked movement. This seems particularly strange as he was generally no more inclined to join a party or movement than to identify himself with any particular Marxist academic tendency.

Arise Ye Starvelings, his magisterial study of ‘the Jamaican Labour Rebellion of 1938 and its Aftermath’, which was one outcome of his engagement with the West Indies is, in my view, a pioneering piece of historical sociology presented with all the sophistication of E P Thompson’s The Making of the English Working Class, albeit on a smaller scale. It gave me an insight into how such studies might be undertaken and reported. It was inspiring, both as regards the subject matter itself and the extraordinary richness of the material collected together and deployed to produce a riveting tale of courage and endurance, as well as an analysis of a colonial ‘labour rebellion’.

Ken was at the ISS in The Hague for over 20 years (1969 – 1990). He was regarded as a remarkable and unique colleague, always willing to give his views and input but also sharp and extremely precise in his critique. He apparently often addressed his students, sometimes to their dismay, as ‘comrade’; but was always generous of his time, his experience and his sharp mind. He continued to teach and research on Africa, and particularly on radical movements as Professor of Political Science, until his retirement. He also supported Peter Waterman, his colleague and friend, in producing and distributing the inimitable Libertarian-Marxist Newsletter of International Labour Studies throughout the 1980s and into the 1990s.

Ken Post was the author of numerous treaties and published more than a dozen books, many on the subject of Marxism. His last five books were on Marxist theory and the history of the international Communist movement; indeed, his last major book was on Regaining Marxism, a basic re-thinking of Marxism in the light of the failure of Third World revolutions, and the collapse of Communist states. He also produced a massive oeuvre on Revolution, Socialism and Nationalism in Vietnam (in five volumes). He was a critical proponent of Marxist economic theory; and proposed a reshaping of Marxist ideology in order to move beyond capitalism without reverting to a Utopian notion of communism.

His interests were, however, not only theoretical; he also wrote about workers and peasants, labour movements and political movements, as a historian as much as a sociologist, an economist or even a political economist. In addition to the trips he made for his research and teaching, Ken went on missions of various kinds to many countries throughout the world: Algeria, Zambia, Belgium, Finland, Sweden, Yugoslavia, Turkey, Burma, Cambodia (where he was one of the first westerners to visit after Pol Pot was driven out), North Korea (where he discussed Marxist theory for six weeks), Thailand, Ecuador, Guyana, Panama and Venezuela.

Last, but not least, he loved to read – and even write – science fiction. In retirement, he published one novel and worked on several others, including an ‘alternative history’ of Europe in which industrial capitalism never developed, leaving China (still ruled by emperors) as the leading world power. As Ken left his friends and colleagues – and his ‘alternative history’ -behind, the People’s Republic of China was beginning to develop its Belt and Road Initiative, a vast infrastructural programme to transform transport (by land and sea) and so economic and political relations between Asia and Europe. The world will not be the same.

David Seddon (criticalfaculty1@hotmail.co.uk) is a researcher and political activist who has written extensively on social movements, class struggles and political transitions across the developing world.

Anthropological Legacies and Human Futures

A Report on 14th Biennal Conference of the European Association of Social Anthropologists (EASA) Milan, 20-23 July, 2016

By Jörg Wiegratz

The 14th Biennal Conference of the European Association of Social Anthropologists (EASA) (Milan, 20-23 July 2016) was titled ‘Anthropological legacies and human futures’. The gathering took place against the background of a discipline that, like others faces a range of challenges concerning relevance and funding, amongst others. In the conference text, the organisers noted:

Anthropology has lived a time of change, innovation, and interdisciplinary dialogue, but has also struggled to define and establish its own research priorities against the tendency of other intellectual traditions to co-opt its contributions. Political agendas external to the discipline have often bent the broader significance of our findings, and other fields of knowledge have partly appropriated, partly trivialized as anecdotal information, the strengths of the anthropological approach to the study of humans: the ethnographic method. Anthropology treasures lessons learnt that enable the questioning of ‘evidence’ and the sensitive understanding of shifting realities. Its relentless contextualization of human experiences and institutional powers liberates the ability to envision and build new frameworks of civic coexistence. Its bottom-up gaze and long-term engagement with the rich diversity of ways to be human play a fundamental role in re-shaping and sharpening general concepts (i.e. gender, relativism, culture, tradition, and so on) by now widely employed, if often superficially, among media of all sorts. The interest of anthropology for the subjective navigation of broader social systems always carries with it an implicit cultural critique.

This is a good summary of what makes the discipline arguably so attractive, also for non-anthropologists (including political scientists and political economists such as this author) in search for learning, inspiration and collaborations. The conference had six broad themes: power, economy, kinship, religion, knowledge and forms of expression, and work. The selection of these themes and the focus of specific panels and papers (see below) indicate the relevance and usefulness of the conference for roape.net readers.

That said, the keynote lecture by Didier Fassin was on ‘The endurance of critique’. Again, it is useful to cite the lecture’s abstract at some length: ‘In a time when critique is considered by some to be running out of steam and is disqualified by others in the name of a triumphant positivism, anthropology may have to reclaim its various critical traditions, including that of self-critique, to apprehend a world in which weak social and political consensus too often serves to elude the tensions, contradictions and even aporia of contemporary society.’

Notably, one of the three plenaries was titled ‘Contemporary Capitalism and Unequal Society: Obscene Exchange, Complicity and Grassroots Responses’, with interventions on ‘Competition and equality or monopoly and privilege: two faces of capitalist accumulation, the case of Southern Europe’ (Susana Narotzky), ‘Life and debt in South Africa’ (Deborah James), and ‘Love, Marriage and Prostitution: the Libidinal Economy of Capitalism’ (Noam Yuran). The plenary text reads:

In discussing what constitutes contemporary capitalism Noam Yuran reviews the historical peculiarity of capitalism, often described as an economy where everything is up for sales. The full meaning of this commonplace is that things that are formally outside the market are suspected as hiding an obscene exchange. To explore this idea the paper will revisit Werner Sombart’s Luxury and Capitalism, which traces the origin of capitalism to the rise of illicit love and the luxury industry it propelled. He also examines why in contemporary cultural imagination prostitution is associated with finance. Through the analysis of ethnographies of Southern Europe, Susana Narotzky addresses major tensions within the political economy of capitalism. While mainstream neoliberal policy discourse points at enhancing competition, mostly through reducing regulation, the practices of large firms point to various privileged deals supported by political elites. The grassroots responses to this situation focus on recuperating regulatory practices, a return to an economic nationalism, or quasi-autarkic projects of an alternative community economy. This view does not preclude a general belief in the need to gain a competitive market edge. Deborah James deals with the South African context where sharp rises in indebtedness have accompanied the rapid financialization of the economy over the past two decades, debt factors in other socially important relationships and meanings in the everyday life of the family and household. Different obligations and imperatives balanced against, or converted into, one another are examined. She challenges the overly deterministic assumption that these sets of relationships, and the conversions between them, embody a monolithic framework, imposed from above by financial institutions which intrudes into people’s intimate relations and commitments. She suggests exploring the complicity of participants’ engagement with the ‘financialisation of daily life’ rather than seeing it as imposed on unwilling victims.

Roape.net readers might check the recent books of the presenters; At the Heart of the State: The Moral World of Institutions (Didier Fassin), Industry and Work in Contemporary Capitalism: Global Models, Local Lives? (Susana Narotzky as co-editor); Money from Nothing: Indebtedness and Aspiration in South Africa (Deborah James), What Money Wants: An Economy of Desire (Noam Yuran).

Particular papers that were based on material from African countries included for instance: ‘Agricultural modernization and emotional attachment to land in a Rwandan village’ (Anna Berglund), ‘Equal land rights but not quite: women living in informal monogamous and polygamous unions in Rwanda’ (Ilaria Buscaglia), ‘The (com)promised land? Understanding women’s access to land between development discourses and local perspectives in Burkina Faso’ (Martina Cavicchioli), ‘Forensic anthropological endeavors, missing persons and the construction of genocide in Guatemala and Somaliland’ (Markus Hoehne, Shakira Bedoya Sanchez),  ‘amaXhosa Maradona: negotiating past, present and future through soccer in a South African township’ (Tarminder Kaur), ‘Knowledge, power and land transformations in Northeast Madagascar’ (Jenni Mölkänen), ‘Property relations in peri-urban Ghana: the local face of global processes’ (Raluca Pernes), ‘Pre-Islamic and pre-Christian beliefs in Sub-Saharan Africa: impact on social and political institutions’ (Oleg Kavykin), ‘Portuguese “migrants” in Luanda: a post-colonial encounter?’ (Irène Dos Santos), ‘Postcolonial positions: conceptualizing the Portuguese migrants in Angola (Lisa Åkesson), ‘Angolan-Portuguese workplace relations in contemporary Luanda’ (Pétur Waldorff), ‘New XXI Century Portuguese immigration in Mozambique: transnationalism and postcolonial identities’ (Eugénio Pinto Santana), ‘French presence in contemporary Algeria: a postcolonial memory & practices’ (Giulia Fabbiano), Today’s missionaries: depoliticising and individualising women’s activism in post-2011 Egypt’ (Liina Mustonen), ‘Feeling vulnerable in the field: collaborative filmmaking in the Niger Delta and the contestation of ethnographic ideals’ (Julia Binter), ‘The moral economy of violence: examples from contemporary Egypt (2011-2015)’ (Perrine Lachenal), ‘Political-economic drivers of moral economies of fraud: the case of neoliberal Uganda’ (Jörg Wiegratz), ‘The resistances during the Ebola epidemics as an expression of mistrust’ (Abdoulaye Wotem Somparé), Platinum dreams (Dinah Rajak), ‘Property regimes and the qualities of resources: the labor of transparency and opacity in Angola’s mining industry’ (Filipe Calvao), ‘Making the individual in a Papua New Guinea oil economy’ (Emma Gilberthorpe), ‘Virtuous imperialism: African police cadets training in Portugal’ (Susana Durão’), ‘Policing reforms in Nigeria: views on Human Rights between theory and practice’ (Nina Müller), ‘Workshops as sites of knowledge transmission?’ (Tim Bunke), ‘Musicians’ debts in the South African recording industry’ (Tuulikki Pietilä), “It’s all about money”: urban-rural spaces and relations in Maputo, Mozambique’ (Inge Tvedten), ‘The politics of a just price: negotiating the price of a ‘tomato of one hundred’ and a ‘t-shirt of ten thousand’ in oil-boom Equatorial Guinea’ (Alba Valenciano Mañé), ‘“Yu sabi fᴐ tᴐk prays”: performing and navigating just prices in the streets of Makeni, northern Sierra Leone’ (Michael Bürge), ‘“Sometimes you need to be selfish”: kinship webs of the Kenyan middle class’ (Lena Kroeker), ‘Contemporary African migrants in the USA: cultural adaptations in megacities and towns compared’ (Veronica Usacheva).

Dr. Jörg Wiegratz is a lecturer in the Political Economy of Global Development at the University of Leeds and a member of the editorial board of ROAPE.

 

Sensing Nairobi: Exploring the City

In a review of an important recent exhibition in Nairobi, Kenya, Craig Halliday writes that ‘Sensing Nairobi’ (8-30 June, 2017) sought to capture, reflect and define Nairobi’s ambiguous urban landscape.

By Craig Halliday

How does one explore or present Kenya’s capital city of more than 3.5 million people?  Given the metamorphosing nature of cities and how they become (re)defined by urban residents, who in turn are changed by the city, this is an ambitious endeavour; though one undertaken on by the British Institute in Eastern Africa (BIEA). Their approach brought together a group of artists, critical thinkers and scholars in an endeavour to ‘make sense’ of Nairobi through the city’s sensorial registers; a relevant method given that one’s lived experience of the city, the interplay between people and their surroundings, is formed through multiple sensory modalities with and to urban environments. The enquiry culminated in the exhibition ‘Sensing Nairobi’, held at the National Museum of Kenya in Nairobi, June 2017. This short blogpost reflects on a selection of works from ‘Sensing Nairobi’ in an exploration into the city.

Entering the exhibition, the viewer was immersed in a body of work titled ‘Demolition’, an installation of re-claimed roof tiles, a short film documenting salvage and demolition industries, and diary extracts from workers in these businesses. In addition, stand three sculptures by Meshack Oiro created from salvaged building materials. ‘Demolition’, a mixture of art and research, enquires how a city’s materiality affects people in different ways. The work prompts the viewer to contemplate the circulation and life of materials, their use and re-use, the built environment, acts of construction and destruction, the changing nature of physical space, and the different ways this alters perceptions and lived experiences of the city.

‘Demolition’ by Meshack Oiro

  

Moving through the exhibition hall you came to a small room containing the installation ‘Akili ni Nywele’ by Wambui Kamiru Collymore. Hair advertisements cover the wall and a television plays commercials marketing hair extensions as “the hair you deserve” which will instantly attract desirable men to you. The artist states that the use of hair extensions is “sign of success in urban areas” and is “a lifestyle choice for the modern Nairobi woman.” Though why is this? One explanation is the impact of urban social pressures, starting from childhood; something the artist references through the use of play dolls for young girls which perpetuate narrow beauty standards, furthered through the role of corporations and their marketing techniques.

‘Akili ni Nywele’ by Wambui Kamiru Collymore

The visual narrative of Nairobi is also explored in ‘ManPower’ by Neo Musangi. The work uses posters (frequently pasted across the city) offering to solve problems people face. These ‘services’ are advertised by intriguingly named Doctors, Herbalists, Professors and Astrologers – though their contact details are often the same. Like these posters, encountered through ones’ daily navigation of the city, ‘ManPower’ comments on visual narratives presented across the city and one challenges or passively accepts concepts of ambiguity, authenticity, what is real or fake?

‘ManPower’ by Neo Musangi

In a darkened corner, is the installation ‘Nightmare Chamber of The Powers That Be’ – created by Ralf Rafee. The work is a reaction to ‘City Cotton’ – an informal settlement destroyed by an armed gang, overseen by Kenyan Police. Approximately 100 photos depict City Cotton’s annihilation and eviction of residents. Strobe lights cause a degree of discomfort.   As you enter this space the role of spectator shifts to participant. You are forced to push through the photographs.  An act causing some to fall. Do you try and hang them back or choose to ignore them and push on? Visitors have covered the walls with their chosen text, imagery and marks; using chunks of charcoal that litter the floor. This performance can be seen as claiming a space, creating something new by leaving a mark or destroying something previously left. The space, like the city, is in a continual state of change and remaking. The work questions how urban space is not a ‘given’ but is rather created by the people who live in it.

The relation between people, environment and the marks left through this contact are also explored in the multi-layered paintings titled ‘Foot Prints’, by Elias Mung’ora. Though like the people from City Cotton, whose images hang by a thread, many of Nairobi’s resident’s experience of the city is one of risk and instability. There is a vulnerability to city life, one that is advanced by mass inequalities and disparate power relations. But if the city is created by those who live in it, then we all play a part in what it is and becomes. ‘Nightmare Chamber of The Powers That Be’ asks us to confront this discomforting reality; what we choose to see, who we ignore, what traces we leave and whose narratives are remembered.

‘Nightmare Chamber of The Powers That Be’ by Ralf Rafee

‘Foot Prints’ by Elias Mung’ora

A series of photographs and audio installation by James Muriuki visually presents Nairobi’s physical and spatial forms, through the substance of water – which relates to Nairobi’s historical formation.  Established in 1899, Nairobi – whose name translates as a “place of cool waters” – was a lush green wetland with clear rivers. Muriuki’s series of photographs portray water scooped from different points of Nairobi River (some visibly polluted more so than others). A recording taken from these sites plays in the background. Similar to the river, Nairobi’s residents flow through the city; though like the unequal sites of pollution presented in this work Nairobi’s historical policies of segregation (racial and socio-economic) are also highlighted and it is these which continue to impact and shape city’s multiplicity of disparate spaces.

‘Untitled’ by James Muriuki

By navigating the exhibition (which includes work in the form of video, installation, photography, painting and sculpture – created by over fifteen contributors) you navigate Nairobi, or rather the pluralities of Nairobi; from everyday interactions with the city and its spaces, perceptions of beauty, colonial legacies, patterns of spatial use, ritual, power relations and the city’s materiality. Sensing Nairobi provides a unique range of insights into urban life through multi-sensual experiences of the city, and in doing this it widens our perception, enriching our registers of experience and understanding of Nairobi.

Craig Halliday is researching for a PhD in the role of visual art in Kenya’s democratisation. Prior to this Craig completed a MA in African Studies, MSc in International Development and has worked and lived in Kenya, Malawi, Sierra Leone, Tanzania and Zambia. 

Faking it: The Rwandan GDP Growth Myth

This is a follow up to the blog-post, which was published on roape.net on 31 May, 2017, in which we showed that poverty increased by between 5 and 7 percentage points between 2010 and 2014 in Rwanda, even as the government claims it decreased by 6 percentage points. The blogpost concluded that the information emerging from the household survey data appeared to be incompatible with the official figures on economic growth, and invited researchers to more closely scrutinize the data coming out of the National Institute of Statistics of Rwanda (NISR). Indeed, with agriculture accounting for more than one third of GDP and two thirds of the workforce, it is difficult to imagine a scenario in which total GDP growth could average between 6% and 8% annual growth, while incomes in the agricultural sector appear to be decreasing for a substantial proportion of farmers. This blogpost tries to substantiate those claims using the NISR’s Integrated Household Living Conditions Survey (EICV) data as well as looking at more recent trends in relevant macroeconomic variables.

According to economic theory, per capita household consumption measured from National Account Statistics (NAS) should be equivalent to average income or consumption measured from Household Surveys (HHS). In practice, this is rarely the case because of measurement errors. For instance, households tend to deliberately under-report earnings, while NAS have trouble capturing illicit and informal economic activity (read Ken Simler’s 2008 paper on this theme). Even when there are differences in levels of income estimated by the two methods, however, Martin Ravallion (2003) concludes that, “NAS consumption growth rate is an unbiased predictor of the HHS consumption growth rate.” Furthermore, he finds that NAS/HHS estimates should converge over time as the economy develops and becomes more formalized.[1] In Rwanda, household final consumption represents around 80% of total GDP (varying from 79.8% in 2005 to 79.6% in 2015, down from 86.3% in 2000), meaning that growth in average consumption measured from NAS or HHS should be a good proxy for growth in GDP per capita.

In figure 1 below, we show the evolution of average household consumption between 2000 and 2013 in Rwanda, as estimated from the EICV datasets and nominal GDP per capita in local currency units, as reported in the World Bank’s World Development Indicators databank. [2] As the graph shows, estimates of average income/consumption from the EICV and national accounts were almost identical in 2000 and 2005, and started to grow apart thereafter. By 2013, the national account estimate was more than 50% higher than the average consumption estimated from the EICV. This does not constitute incontrovertible proof that GDP growth rates have been over-estimated in Rwanda, since there are different factors listed above that could explain such discrepancies. But it does strongly suggest that something is amiss in Rwanda’s GDP growth figures. At the very least, it does raise serious questions about the reliability of national account statistics, which the government and donors rely on to claim the success of their policies. As mentioned in our previous blogpost, GDP figures are easier to manipulate than household survey data, as the Greek case famously showed a few years back.

Figure 1: GDP per capita vs. Average EICV consumption

Source: EICV1-4, World Bank WDI

Even if we were to conclude that growth data have not been manipulated in the past, there are reasons to be concerned about the current performance of the Rwandan economy. The most recent growth data coming out of Rwanda shows that economic growth slowed to its lowest level since 2002 (1.7%) in the first quarter of 2017. With a population growth rate of 3% per year, this means that Rwanda’s GDP per capita growth rate is now effectively negative, even according to the NISR’s own estimates (see figure 2 below).

Figure 2: GDP Annual Growth Rate

Source: tradingeconomics.com

This should come as no surprise to those who have paid attention to the facts behind the dazzling numbers that Rwanda and its donors like to boast about. While there has been undeniable progress since the war, much of the improvements we see in Kigali today are cosmetic and driven by the government’s obsession to portray an image of success rather than to lay the foundations of lasting economic growth. As we mentioned in the previous blogpost, much of the investments have been financed with public debt, leading to a surge in external debt levels (see figure 3 – remember that actual debt to GDP ratios may be even higher, if GDP has been overestimated as our analysis suggests).

Figure 3: Debt to GDP

Source: tradingeconomics.com

This would all be fine, if the investments had been strategically targeted at growth areas aimed at leapfrogging development Korean style. But to date, the vast majority of investments have gone into cosmetic – and crucially loss-making – prestige projects, such as the Kigali Convention Centre, Rwanda Air, Kigali skyscrapers and luxury housing units for the non-existent Rwandan upper-middle class. Even if these investments were not making a loss, this would arguably be a questionable use of public resources, since they are all highly regressive and aimed at subsidizing the super-rich or foreign clients.  Rather than enabling economic development, these projects cost the Rwandan taxpayer dearly in running costs and take away precious resources from more pressing areas of development, such as the agricultural sector. The result of these irresponsible investments is beginning to  be felt. For the first time in recent years, capital account flows to Rwanda were negative by a large margin in 2016, indicating that investors may be starting to put their assets abroad (see figure 4 below).

Figure 4: Capital Flows

Source: tradingeconomics.com

At the same time, Rwanda’s current account deficit reached a whopping 16.6% of GDP, even as the government put in place draconian measures to restrict imports (see figure 5)

Figure 5: Current Account

Source: tradingeconomics.com

With such economic fundamentals, it is not surprising that the value of the Rwandan franc has almost been halved in the past few years (see figure 6 below):

Figure 6: Rwf/ USD exchange rate

Source: tradingeconomics.com

The situation is likely to get worse, not better, over the coming years as even larger prestige projects come online and existing ones start accumulating more losses. The East African reported on 3 July that “Rwanda’s foreign reserves are expected to fall below the East African Community’s convergence criterion of four months [of imports] in the coming year” and may fall below IMF’s critical threshold of three months of imports.

The conclusion of this brief analysis is that if there ever was a Rwandan economic miracle it has probably fizzled out some time ago and is likely to come crashing down very soon. At the very least, the data shows that the development strategy adopted by the Rwandan government is risky in the extreme, bordering on reckless. The closest example we can find in recent history of similar policies is Mobutu’s Zaire that squandered the country’s resources on space projects, nuclear power plants and a Concord airplane. As outlandish as they seem today, these projects also helped to give Mobutu an image of success up until the 1970s (remember the Rumble in the Jungle?) But Rwanda’s PR machine has even surpassed Mobutu’s, having managed to keep the narrative of success going for all these years even as evidence to the contrary has been in plain sight, or just below the surface waiting to be scratched. Even today, there is not a single article in the press (even the critical ones) that does not mention Rwanda’s alleged economic success, and its low levels of corruption – forgetting to mention that close associates of Kagame appeared in the Panama Papers last year and a transparency international coordinator was assassinated.

The authors of this article have asked for anonymity. 

Featured Photograph: Kigali Convention Centre dome (2014)

Notes

[1] Ravallion, M. 2003. “Measuring Aggregate Welfare in Developing Countries: How Well do National Accounts and Surveys Agree?” Review of Economics and Statistics 85(3): 645–652

[2] The do-files required to estimate average household consumption are the same ones that were published in the previous blogpost. Once the do-file has run its course, you simply need to run the following command to obtain average household consumption: svy: mean adtot. For EICV2 use this do-file (click here to download the file). For EICV1, we used the figures in Table 2, page 13 in: McKay, A. (2015). The recent evolution of consumption poverty in Rwanda (No. 2015/125). WIDER Working Paper.

How the West Came to Rule

By Salvador Ousmane

Alexander Anievas and Kerem Nisancioglu, How the West Came to Rule: The Geopolitical Origins of Capitalism (London: Pluto, 2015)

Karl Marx outlined how capitalism came to dominate the world, replacing the feudal and tributary modes of production in his great work Capital. For Marx, this was an international process of geopolitics, combining slavery and colonialism with class struggle.  This book defends and develops this approach and so argues against the ideas of both Political Marxism (especially Robert Benner) and World Systems Theory (developed by Immanuel Wallerstein).  The book is still only the beginnings of a truly global history of the origins of capitalism, but one that has the advantage of undermining racist and Islamophobic views by showing the vital roles played by Africans and Muslims in the ‘rise of the west’.

Alexander Anievas and Kerem Nisancioglu use Leon Trotsky’s theory of uneven and combined development to chart the origins of capitalism initially in England and then across Western Europe and North America. Far from being an internal European development, capitalism began in what was then one of the most backward corners of the Eurasian land mass (north west Europe).  So the history of capitalism becomes part of a global history which removes Europe from the centre of world history and highlights its dependence and success on technological and political economic developments in what were more developed parts of the world.

From empirical observation, Trotsky – one of the leaders of the Bolshevik socialist revolution, one hundred years ago in 1917 – was able to determine that unevenness was the ‘most general law’ of human history.  “As with unevenness, combination has a strong empirical referent: multiple societies do not simply exist hermetically side by side, but interactively co-exist, which by necessity (and to varying degrees) determines their collective social and geographical development and reproduction.”

Trotsky also asserted that for “Russia to reap a certain ‘privilege of historical backwardness’, [it was compelled to continue] adopting and potentially innovating on the most cutting-edge technologies, institutions and material practices ‘pioneered’ by the leading states of the international system.”

Trotsky pointed out that traditional societies “throw away their bows and arrows for rifles all at once, without travelling the road which lay between these two weapons in the past.” He also said that, “historical backwardness does not imply a simple reproduction of the development of advanced countries, England or France, with a delay of one, two, or three centuries.”  Europe may have passed through the stages of tribal, slave, feudal and capitalist modes of production, but Africa had no need to travel the same road since ‘combined development’ provides at least the potential for faster development (and is now, for example, provided with the potential of moving directly to a post-carbon society).

So uneven and combined development, Anievas and Nisancioglu argue, can be understood in three related, yet distinct ways.  First as an ontology, reconstituting the materialist conception of history.  Second, the theory insists on the need to study across time and space different societies and their dialectical influences on each other. And finally, we should study their respective modes of production in concrete historical circumstances. Using this framework of uneven and combined development, the authors chart the global historic rise of capitalism.

Until at least the 13th century, Western Europe had been one of the least developed parts of the world, “the principles of mathematics, navigational inventions, arts of war and significant military technologies [including gunpowder] all originated in the more scientific and militarily advanced Asian societies, only to then eventually pass to the more ‘backward’ European societies.”

During the long 13th century, the peace of the Islamic Mongolian Empire facilitated trade with Western Europe providing access to more advanced technologies, but it also enabled the transmission of the Black Death to Europe which led to the feudal crisis. The “plague-induced demographic crisis spread from the Mongol expansion into Europe, leading to a dramatic rise in peasant revolts and processes of class struggle more generally.” This encouraged the process of peasant differentiation and the development of rich peasants with capital and more land at one extreme and landless labourers at the other.

Anievas and Nisancioglu write that the tributary mode of production of the Ottoman Empire had a central tax-collecting class opposed to the peasantry.  But also the central state controlled the nobility and formally owned all the land.  The peasants had an inalienable right to land, were legally considered free and suffered a lower level of exploitation than the European serfs.  As a result, rural rebellions were not so common. The tributary Ottoman Empire was widely admired and feared, as being more advanced than feudal Christian Europe.

This ‘whip of external necessity’ and the European ‘privilege of historical backwardness’ “were crucial preconditions for the eventual emergence of capitalism in Europe.” As Anievas and Nisancioglu explain, “Ottoman attempts at empire building curtailed the imperial threat of the Hapsburgs, giving Northwestern European states the structural geopolitical space in which modern state-building practices and the formation of capitalism could take place.” The Ottoman Empire also blocked European trade with the East and led to the search for alternatives, ’compelling’ the development of contacts with America and the West Coast of Africa.

The limits of English agrarian capitalism, the authors argue, were overcome with American land, African slave labour and English capital. It also allowed the industrial revolution and the organisation and management of labour in huge factories.

Anievas and Nisancioglu cite Marx, who recognised the role that Africa, America and India played in the development of capitalism in England. The “Atlantic colonies and India provided Britain with the raw materials, mass consumption commodities, capital and external markets crucial to its industrial success”. In contrast, Robert Brenner and Ellen Wood “argued that primitive accumulation was an entirely domestic process.”

Africa was barely less developed economically than Europe until the 17th century. But then from the mid-17th century, African states became involved in the transatlantic slave trade and the associated trade in fire arms. “Plundered of its source of power, wealth and international ‘comparative advantage’ – human labour – Africa was left prone to an emergent relation of subjugation and dependence vis-à-vis Europe, which would come to characterise the later ravages of colonialism on the continent.”

The ‘international’ was also vital for maintaining the rate of profit of early capitalism in England.  This included the ‘New World’ plantations reducing the organic composition of capital and increasing both the absolute and relative surplus value, in addition colonial trade provided much needed demand for manufactured products whilst simultaneously reducing the cost of labour. The plantations also allowed the development of ‘modern’ management techniques needed to mobilise and manage mass industrial labour. Despite this, by the mid-18th century, Indian cotton textiles “still held a leading position in world markets.” “In 1750, India produced approximately 25% of the worlds manufacturing output… by 1880 [this had reduced] to under 3%.”

The unusually competitive and war prone character of the European feudal states system provided the background that enabled the British state to militarily conquer the Bengal Empire in India in 1757.  This invasion allowed the British state to manage the deindustrialisation of India. India in turn provided the material imports for Britain’s industrialisation and a relatively cheap military force which could then be used to extend the British Empire and so open up other markets throughout the world to the products of British capital.

The authors argue that the “origins and history of capitalism can only be properly understood in international or geopolitical terms.” As we have seen they contrast this claim with the two broadly Marxist Schools, including Robert Brenner who locates the rise of capitalism in the internal contradictions of feudal Europe and Paul Sweezy and others who view capitalism as having developed from the growth of markets, commerce and trade across Europe. The authors argue that both of these schools suffer from Eurocentrism and that this has three main problems.

Firstly, “it conceives of the origins and sources of capitalist modernity as a product of developments primarily internal to Europe.” Whereas history shows the coexistence of a multiplicity of societies and their mutual interactions have been important throughout history and particularly for the development of capitalism in Europe. Secondly, “while non-Europe is relegated to an exploited and passive periphery”, “Europe is conceived as the permanent ‘core’ and ‘prime mover’ of history.” This, Anievas and Nisancioglu term, as the presumed historical priority of Europe.

It also assumes, thirdly, thatthe European experience of modernity is a universal stage of development through which all societies must pass.” The authors term this linear developmentalism. They strongly reject these approaches.

 Anievas and Nisancioglu argue that there is no single linear development of economies as can be read from Marx.  Europe followed a certain number of phases in its politico-economic development. But other regions do not have to follow the same route – and are unlikely to do so. 

A fundamental point made throughout the book is that “capitalism could only emerge, take root and reproduce itself – both domestically and internationally – through a violent, coercive, and often war-assistant process subjugating, dominating, and often annihilating many of those social forces that stood in its way – processes that continued to this day.” As they argue, “The invisible hand of the market has always been undergirded by the iron fist of the state.” The authors conclude with the argument that the global origins of capitalism also remind us that “anticapitalism can only be global in scope.”

The book indicates the usefulness of Trotsky’s historical theory of uneven and combined development.  It also usefully indicates that the rise of capitalism in Western Europe was due to a series of historically contingent factors which depended significantly on the more advanced Islamic Ottoman Empire and other Eurasian civilisations (and, I would argue, African societies) Europe may currently be one of the most economically developed areas of the world, but this has not always been the case – and may not always continue to be so.  The origins of capitalism in Western Europe was not related to the more advanced cultures or other, so-called ‘natural attributes’ of its inhabitants.

Anievas and Nisancioglu recognise that more work is needed to provide a fully rounded global history of the origins of capitalism.  In particular, they recognise the need to include a fuller exposition of the roles of China and Africa then they currently provide in this book.  Capitalism has clearly had a revolutionary global impact, especially over the last 150 years, with its internal motor of competition, but what was the motor of pre-capitalist societies or alternatively why did some civilisations last for thousands of years?  It seems more plausible to imagine that invention and innovation were reactions to political-economic developments rather than their cause. There is much more work to be done, but this book provides an important introduction to a truly global history of the origins of capitalism which recognises the vital inputs and roles of a range of non-European societies.

Salvador Ousmane is a Senior Lecturer and writer.

Featured Photograph: Theater District, New York, USA (2013).

What is the Point of African Studies?

A Report on ECAS 7, 29 June-1 July, 2017

By Heike Becker

Is another knowledge production of Africa possible? The recent European Conference on African Studies (ECAS) in Basel, Switzerland, the 7th of the now well-established bi-annual gatherings of the European African Studies network AEGIS, raised important questions about how knowledge of the continent is produced.

Epistemological queries were key to ECAS 2017, in any case in my experience of the event, and the many informal conversations I had with colleagues from Europe, Africa, and North America during the event.

ECAS 2017 was an epic affair with about 1,500 registered participants, including a large number from the continent. Packed into the programme were four keynotes, 200+ panels, numerous Round Table discussions, film sessions, and a vibrant, fascinating cultural programme of music, performances, and exhibitions. 

Political economy, popular movements and protests

It is in the nature of such massive events that any report will be exceptionally partial.  The conference theme, ‘Urban Africa – Urban Africans: New encounters of the urban and the rural’ was explored from a vast array of perspectives.

Of special interest for ROAPE perhaps, several panels explored issues of political economy, social and political movements, ranging from ‘mining and urbanization in rural Africa’ and ‘changing spaces for rural and urban civil society movements in Africa’ through to ‘Ideology and Armed Struggle in Contemporary Africa’. Political movements and protest were prominent concerns; some focused-on youth-led leadership and participation, others investigated in historical perspective how the concept of insurgent citizenship was related to laying claim to urban spaces. Discussions on capitalism, class formation, and social distinction focused on indigenous capitalist entrepreneurship on the continent, on rural-urban mobilities and the (re)production of class, but also considered the everyday minutiae of urban and rural lives as categories of social distinction.

Keynote: What is the point of African Studies?

Central to ECAS 2017’s opening session was the keynote address, entitled ‘Urbane Scholarship: Studying Africa, Understanding the World’, delivered powerfully and with much graceful humour by Elisio Macamo of Basel’s Centre of African Studies (see Macamo’s ROAPE blog). Elisio’s lecture was a tour de force of questions addressing the pressing question: “What is the point of African Studies?” What indeed?

In characteristic honesty Elisio started by telling the packed audience about the vibrant critique he had received from “younger colleagues” who had admonished him for giving a keynote that doubled up as the International Africa Institute’s (IAI) Lugard lecture. How on earth they had queried him, could a leading critical scholar from the continent speak in the name of that despicable colonialist, Lord Lugard? How could this possibly be compromised with the calls to decolonize the mind, academic institutions, indeed, knowledge itself? “#LugardMustFall”, one critic tweeted, referencing the vibrant ‘fallist’ decolonization movements in South Africa.

The IAI instituted the ‘Lugard Lecture’ in 1948 in memory of Lord Lugard, its founding chairman, as “an award for meritorious work in the field of African studies”. On the IAI website it says that, it is “aiming to open up new perspectives on Africa in a constantly changing world”.

Elisio’s lecture responded, directly and implicitly to key issues that have been raised over the past few years robustly in classrooms and in the streets: How to go about decolonising the mind? How do we relate to the intellectual traditions that scholars of Africa have to negotiate? What is the meaning of the colonial origins of African studies? How do we go about imagining new ways of “doing things” in African Studies, on the continent, and beyond?

Is there a possibility for ‘urbane scholarship’, Elisio asked, as a sophisticated way of living in and engaging with the world; can we, at once, move forward and accept the responsibility of intellectual traditions that include an ‘ancestor’ like Lugard? His take was, yes, we have to accept the responsibility to do this in our endeavour of ‘world-making’ from the continent.

Technologies, connectivities, and the everyday: panels and themes

If any theme stood out, the conference made clear that the connections between technology, politics and the everyday have found increased attention in African Studies. Many questions were raised about how technological infrastructure projects and connectivities are reshaping social change and the urban-rural divide. Social media and the political sphere were looked into on different panels, some focused on ‘textual’ and technical analysis, others taking an ethnographic – people-centred – perspective. At the intersection of aesthetics and politics, art, popular culture, and memorialisation as social, spatial practices and politics took up considerable space, together with discussions of the political economy of art, literature and performance in urban African spaces.

A remarkable feature of ECAS 2017 was the emphasis on the everyday of social life. Exploring urban life through the lens of the ordinary included, among others, thinking through bus stations as central social spaces, or contemplating the significance of leisure in the making of the African City.  The everyday-ness of politics and entangled citizenship was stressed as well. A number of panels explored urbanity and religiosity. Interestingly, sexuality and especially sexual diversity emerged as a prominent theme, connecting again popular culture and the organisation and dynamics of LGBTI activism. Rather absent, on the other hand, especially when compared with the prominence such themes occupied a few years ago, were issues of reproductive health. Panels on urban health seemed primarily interested in the political economy of healthcare; a particularly interesting panel explored the recent ‘wellness craze’ in African cities, and how this phenomenon articulates the intersection of anxieties and aspirations with religious and therapeutic practices.  

While a few panels had a decided local or national focus, many had a regional or continent-wide reach. Some explicitly challenged long-standing (and indeed colonial) intellectual divisions of labour; a panel on political cultures on the central African copperbelt, for instance, combined the Anglophone research focus on the Zambian side, and the – quite disparate – historical trajectories of Belgian-based research on the Congolese section of the region.  

Africa’s connections to the global world, and how the African city and its inhabitants are part of and co-shape global formations, emerged as another new theme, while some panels also engaged explorations of African research and publishing in the global knowledge economy. These themes again took up the urgent political and epistemological questions that were raised at the conference opening: What is the point of African Studies? Answers differed, but the vibrant discussions, and the challenging interventions by African scholars based on and off the continent give much hope that something new is fermenting in African Studies.

Heike Becker is a regular contributor to the www.roape.net. As a writer and scholar. she directs research and teaching on multiculturalism and diversity as Professor of Anthropology at the University of the Western Cape in South Africa.

Peter Waterman, an Internationalist to the End

By Peter Cole

On 16 June 2017, Peter Waterman died in his sleep, his wife by his side. From his teens into his thirties, he dedicated himself to communism though abandoned that cause after Soviet tanks crushed the Prague Spring in 1968. He transitioned to an academic, his graduate studies on the history of dockworkers in post-WWII Lagos, Nigeria. For the next forty-five years, he wrote, taught, and spoke about—and for—working class people, mostly in the Global South. He remained, always, firmly on the Left as a historian, theoretician, and ally of working class people and struggles, in the labour movement and outside of it. His most important scholarly and theoretical contributions are on the vital matters of labour internationalism and solidarity.

Peter was born in 1936 in London’s East End to East European Jewish immigrants. His father was a Communist Party member and, later, managed the UK’s largest communist bookstore; his mother wrote several novels. Peter became involved in politics at a young age in postwar England, a time—it should not be forgotten—of deprivation as the country sought to rebuild after the victory over the fascists. But postwar England also was a time of positive change in Britain as the Labour government nationalized several key institutions—most importantly the railroads, coalmines, and medical institutions, the latter called the National Health Service (NHS). For a young Communist, heady times indeed. In 1955, already involved in Communist youth activities, he set off for Prague to work as an English language editor of World Student News, the magazine of the International Union of Students; originally created to connect university students from countries that had fought fascism during World War II, it increasingly became a Soviet-allied organization—no problem for Peter.

After three years in Prague, in 1958 he returned to London, where he did a year of compulsory military service and then attended the union-affiliated Ruskin College. He earned a Diploma in Social Studies and then a bachelor’s degree from Oxford University through Ruskin. He also met his first wife, Ruthie Kupferschmidt, a Dutch Jewish woman and fellow Communist. Appropriately, they met on an Aldermaston march, a legendary annual event begun in 1958 by the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament (CND) in which opponents of nuclear weapons marched 53 miles (from Adlermaston, the center of the British nuclear weapons industry to London) to protest the dangers of nuclear war. Peter and Ruthie lived in Oxford where they had two children, Daniel (“Danny”) and Tamara.

In 1966, he returned to Prague to work at the headquarters of the World Federation of Trade Unions (WTFU), the Soviet-dominated federation of labour unions and rival of the International Confederation of Free Trade Unions (ICFTU)—the latter being born out of a Cold War split in 1949. It was during this stint in Prague that he first became interested in African unions and politics as he worked at the Africa desk of the WTFU information department. In his duties, he got to know the representative of the South African Congress of Trade Unions (SACTU) and other African trade union activists.

Of course, his time at the WTFU overlapped with the Prague Spring which deeply affected him (and countless others). Subsequently, he forever left the Communist Party and, more generally, Soviet-style communist politics.

From 1970 to 1972, he lived in Nigeria where he conducted research on Lagos dockworkers and the Nigerian trade union movement as he taught History at Ahmadu Bello University in Zaria. His thesis on dockers earned him a M.A. at the University of Birmingham in West African Studies. He lived in Nigeria during chaotic and important times, in the aftermath of the Biafran (or Nigerian Civil) War. Demonstrating his modest, humorous demeanor, I asked about the dangers of living in Nigeria during this era and he replied that the fighting was in another region of the country, the Southeast, while he mostly lived in the North. His thesis examined dockworkers in the port of Lagos from the 1940s through the 1960s and took a very critical position towards the union leadership.

Master’s thesis and degree in hand, he found a position in the Labour Studies program of the Institute of Social Studies (ISS) in Den Haag (The Hague), Netherlands where he worked for twenty-six years. ISS is a stand-alone research institute with a relatively small number of students and heavy research agenda. Along the way, he earned his Ph.D. from the ISS, which expanded on his M.A. research and published as Division and Unity amongst Nigerian Workers: Lagos Port unionism, 1940s-60s (The Hague: Institute of Social Studies, 1982). The book, which he referred to as “socialist labour history,” criticized the union’s leaders for being far too “moderate,” a bad word to Peter, who preferred the “radicals”; that is, the union’s leaders seemed content with minor improvements while allowing the division of workers along craft lines—as always, to the benefit of the more skilled (and, hence, better-paid) port workers and to the detriment of lesser skilled, casual dockworkers.

The 1980s involved multiple transitions. Peter transferred to the Politics of Alternative Development program at ISS. Meanwhile, he and Ruthie, who worked as a teacher and then artist, divorced. For many years at ISS, he edited the Newsletter of International Labour Studies. He wrote about the dockworkers in Barcelona, who belonged to an organization the Coordinadora that possessed a long tradition of militancy, internationalism, and rank-and-file power. In keeping with his teaching agenda and politics, he researched and wrote about Filipino, South African, Indian, Peruvian, and other nations’ labour and social movements and, more generally, global social movements.

He returned to Africa, literally, when he accepted a visiting teaching position at the University of Natal-Durban (now University of KwaZulu-Natal) Westville campus in 1993-4. Although the apartheid era was nearly over, the Westville campus remained predominantly Indian. Peter was present during as tumultuous a year as any in modern South African history. Although he collected materials on trade unions including dockworkers in Durban, he never wrote much about that subject.

In the 1990s, he also met Virginia Vargas who held a position at the ISS for some years. Gina, as she goes by, hails from Lima, Peru and is a long-standing, influential activist and writer. In the 1970s, she helped build the Peruvian women’s movement, founding the Flora Tristán Center. She helped organize the very first World Social Forum (WSF), in 2001 in Puerto Alegre, Brazil, and remains on the governing council. Peter also became active in the WSF. Thanks to Gina, he spent several months in Lima every year as Gina did in Den Haag. After being together for about twenty years, they married in 2012.

In the 2000s, Peter continued to research, talk, email, and write. In fact, his formal retirement did not seem to slow him down. He worked with the Network Institute for Global Democracy (Helsinki), Programa Democracia y Transformacion Global (Lima), and India Institute for Critical Action-Centre in Movement (New Delhi). He also served on the board of the online journals, Interface: A Journal for and about Social Movements and the Global Labour Journal. A great many of his papers, correspondence, and notes are archived online and in the Peter Waterman Papers at the International Institute of Social History in Amsterdam.

Waterman remained committed until the very last to internationalism and the key role that labour must play in any transformation to a post-capitalist order. What that looked like, of course, remains to be determined. He appreciated, better than most, the failures of Marxism and the Soviet Union. In addition to the collapse of the Soviet Union and most of its allies, neoliberal globalization has weakened workers and unions across the Global South during the past several decades. That does not mean, however, that workers and unions are to be ignored—far from it. However, Peter firmly believed that any movement of workers must ally with other social movements including women’s organizations, environmental groups, and others that promote social justice. That is, class analysis alone could not explain the historical moment we currently live in, nor could it—alone—advance humanity beyond capitalism. He also called upon scholars to evolve. Writing in 2005 about the ongoing retreat of labour unions, in the face of “globalized networked capitalism,” Waterman contended that “labour history [also] has to start again.” To do so, Waterman relentlessly promoted international solidarity, as a force, a movement, and a theory. He wrote a great deal, over the past few decades, to more fully theorize what, in fact, “solidarity” meant. In short, if neoliberalism is to be slain workers must practice labour internationalism, joining with other social movements in solidarity.

Peter demonstrated a willingness to see the world anew through fresh eyes, not a trait often associated with 70-something people. (Currently, the world’s most dangerous septuagenarian, Donald Trump, dreams of winding the clock back to the 1950s.) Of late, Peter wrote an autobiography entitled From Coldwar Communism to the Global Emancipatory Movement: Itinerary of a Long-Distance Internationalist; no doubt, it sits on the bedside table of the President of the United States.

In his later years, Peter maintained communication with several generations of younger scholars who found his work and, then, him. One of those is Katy Fox-Hodess, a Ph.D. student at the University of California at Berkeley. She praised Peter for conducting “research on union democracy and labour internationalism. I also appreciated his rejection of orthodoxies and interest in, for example, feminist perspectives, which I would say really put him ahead of his time.”

I also found Peter late in his life. When I emailed him a few months ago, in advance of a visit to nearby Amsterdam to conduct research at the wonderful archives of the International Institute of Social History, Peter quickly invited me to stay with him and Gina. He said that he could offer me “drinks, good food, conversation, and his shelf of books on dockworkers.” I gladly accepted his offer though he warned me that he might have to cancel as he needed to undergo some medical tests for an issue with his heart.

As it so happened, just one week before he passed away, I spent a lovely and illuminating evening, night, and morning with Peter, Gina, and his son Danny. Sure enough, it began with Jameson’s, included a lovely vegetarian meal, and several long sessions talking dockworkers, politics, anarcho-syndicalism, Africa, and the like. I came away energized. Of course, I was shocked when I received word—just seven days later—that he had passed away.

Peter is survived by his wife, two children, two grandchildren, and countless friends, colleagues, and comrades. Tributes have poured in from across the globe. Peter lived an exemplary life of a scholar-activist. Though I barely knew him, I am confident that he would be pleased that this remembrance ends as follows: Peter Waterman presente!

Peter Cole is a professor of history at Western Illinois University (USA). Currently, he is revising Dockworker Power: Race, Technology & Unions in Durban and the San Francisco Bay Area (University of Illinois, forthcoming). He is a co-editor of Wobblies of the World: A Global History of the IWW (Pluto Books, forthcoming) and, previously, authored Wobblies on the Waterfront: Interracial Unionism in Progressive-Era Philadelphia (University of Illinois, 2007). Cole also is a Research Associate in the Society, Work and Development Institute (SWOP) at the University of the Witwatersrand in Johannesburg, South Africa.

 

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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