Africa is in a steep democratic recession. According to the Freedom House think tank, just 11 per cent of the continent is politically “free”, and the average level of democracy (understood as respect for political rights and civil liberties) has fallen in each of the last 14 years. The Ibrahim Index of African Governance shows that democratic progress lags far behind citizens’ expectations. The vast majority of Africans want to live in a democracy, but the proportion of those who believe they actually do falls almost every year. The future of African freedoms is in peril.
As for the “independence project” that birthed the current African states, it has been cannibalised by the political class which—apart from engaging in nefarious activities to consolidate power, gobbling up resources and terrorising the citizenry—has proven to lack the imagination to curate a vision for the continent. For now, we do not know what to do, nor do we know where and how to find the answers to address this socio-political crisis.
Moreover, liberal democracy—characterised by the enjoyment of legally guaranteed freedoms and rights by individuals—has wobbled over the past two decades. Today we are witnessing an upsurge in fascism, parochialism and narrow nationalisms as a backlash to a neoliberalism gone wild. All over Europe and in other parts of the world, a new kind of nationalism is in vogue.
The “independence project” that birthed the current African states has been cannibalised by the political class which—apart from engaging in nefarious activities to consolidate power, gobbling up resources and terrorising the citizenry—has proven to lack the imagination to curate a vision for the continent.
In Africa, where this model is a relatively recent import, its symptoms, including deepening inequality and the alienation and exclusion of entire sections of the population, form the most compelling economic trend of the era. Add to this, writes John Githongo, the growing currency of identity politics—which is extremely comforting in this era of existential uncertainties—and the symptoms of the malaise are manifesting themselves more quickly and causing more intense social and political dislocations than ever before. Ultimately, the economic logic of the market, and those who participate in it, is irrational; it does not typically self-correct and social/political distress intensifies the power of identity politics (religion, gender, tribe, clan, sect, etc.) and hollow populism.
The convergence of political and economic interests in society has led to a corruption of democracy as it has come to be owned by oligarchies with the power to buy elections at worst and, at best, to purchase policy even in so-called mature democracies. As a result, democracy is threatened by a new wave of disaster capitalism which, at its core, is thriving on the subversion of the state for the extraction of resources.
Underlying all this is Western indifference and, sometimes, hostility. Today, even Francis Fukuyama, one of the most ardent proponents of the liberal democratic model, has acknowledged the erosion of political power and the decline in political trust in public affairs generally. Indeed, with the imminent collapse of the neoliberal model, the “end of history” mantra no longer holds any meaning.
In the case of Africa, the neoliberal ideological assault has already devastated the social fabric and, as spaces for progressive discourse and debate, our knowledge production centres have already been destroyed. For instance, notes Professor Issa Shivji, university structures have been corporatised. Courses have lost their integrity as they have been semesterised and modularised. Short courses proliferate. Basic research has been undermined as policy consultancy overwhelms faculty. Knowledge production has been substituted by online information gathering.
As a consequence, the recent rise of “new nationalisms” has caught intellectuals in the global South by surprise. They didn’t anticipate it and nor do they know how to react to it. Moreover, the fourth industrial revolution, which began at the turn of the century, builds on the digital revolution, characterised by machine learning and artificial intelligence, has fundamentally changed the arena of contestation for local and global narrative dominance. Past models of civic engagement are proving barren as traditional institutions (media, civil society and academia) are still struggling to find a footing in this new dispensation. The place of the intellectual in this digital Dark Age shall prove instrumental in helping society to make sense of itself.
The failed independence project
While the independence struggle delivered freedom and self-rule (at least in theory), the political freedoms envisaged and attained without a corresponding economic sovereignty to anchor and totalise these freedoms left black populations vulnerable to imperial influences and their cronies.
The effect of this is the collapse of the ‘independence project’ which has effectively not delivered on the aspirations that gave rise to the anti-colonial movements that birthed it. Fifty-plus years after independence, the African state is in a worse situation than it was at independence. Independence and all that it portends is now over. Crony capitalism is entrenched and the vast majority of the populations have become disillusioned with the State. Evidently, the palace coups, civil unrest and regime changes happening across Africa are symptomatic of a political class that has been devoured by its own contradictions.
This state of affairs, observes Kalundi Serumaga, presents our desperate, venal governing class with opportunities for greater venality. Having long exhausted whatever political legitimacy the “attainment of independence” gave them, they have continued looking for new means of obtaining some form of legitimacy even as they continue to plunder.
Moreover, the new opportunities for plunder are now blinding our leaders to the very real dangers of the unprincipled relationships that could leave our descendants in perennial debt bondage at best and a new form of slavery in a morbid form. This is the worst possible kind of group to have in charge of making the key decisions at this very critical point in African history.
Trade is war and international firms and tycoons understand this. The modern frameworks of international business decision-making are rooted in racism, predatory systems and opaque structures designed to rip off African resources using unmitigated and rigged international laws and concessions.
There are a number of ways in which neocolonialism and capitalism, individually as well as collectively, disinherit the African continent and rob it of critical resources meant for its people.
Moreover, the new opportunities for plunder are now blinding our leaders to the very real dangers of the unprincipled relationships that could leave our descendants in perennial debt bondage. This is the worst possible kind of group to have in charge of making the key decisions at this very critical point in African history.
Seven of the top ten largest firms in Kenya are British and the top 100 firms are heavily skewed towards foreign ownership. This is replicated across the continent. Private capital from racist and predatory Wall Street-listed firms generates undue pressure on hapless local leaders who either cave in to kickbacks or are voted out through buying the political influence of rival powers. These private capital tentacles have sunk deep into African society, exerting incredible pressure on the direction and nature of the legislation that is passed and implemented across Africa.
The wobbling Euro-American edifice, which is the culmination of the 2000-year-old Greco-Roman-Hebrew Caucasian civilisational instinct, portends a return to a new Dark Age. While there exist never-ending contestations about when a historical period starts and when it ends, historians often structure civilisations as having gone through nine socio-political stages lasting about 250 years. A civilisation accommodates two to three empires and lasts roughly 500 years. The much-hyped decline of the United States, therefore, marks not just the decline of an empire but, by extension, the eventual decay and decline of the Euro-American superstructure.
The prophesies by historians like Jim Nelson Black and Charles Colson largely point to the return of barbarian instincts dominated by modern barbarians—not like the Huns, the Visigoths, the Ostrogoths and Vandals of the 400s AD—but with a new form of barbarism. A casual foray into the politics of identity reveals a bizarre strain of unchecked instincts going as far as to seeking to legalise paedophilia as part of minority politics. The barbarian of the new Dark Age is therefore said to be well-attuned to the social finesse of modernity while still harbouring the dark primitivism of unfettered tastes and desires. He is able to justify the most grotesque of beliefs with the finest eloquence of language and fluency of ideas.
Africa could dominate the next century
Meanwhile, Africa’s rediscovery of its ancient heritage is founded on a cultural production that is largely aided by a soaring interest in the realities of ancient African civilisations, a re-forging of African identities and a democratisation of knowledge production and dissemination by digital media and other alternative platforms. The African imaginary in the main thus far seems to be largely secular, quite reactionary, and predicated on the import of identity politics from the West. Truth is, the current global shift occasioned by the rise of new empires such as China and India is precipitating a fluidity of ideas in the international marketplace in such a way that if Africa manoeuvres strategically in that marketplace, it could dominate the next century.
In the cycle of human civilisation, with its periods of growth and downturns spanning centuries, Africa has also inevitably occupied a dominant position by waging war against Rome and other empires. In total, of the 200 empires chronicled to have dominated the last 6,000 years, at least 37 were either African or extended to Africa, bringing with them civilisational goodies from across the Mediterranean and the Red Sea.
As is the norm with imperial dominance, each African empire infused human existence with certain sensibilities in the zigzagging path from ancient history to modernity. From law and politics, philosophy, art and social courtesies, moral codes and military prowess, each empire possesses a dominant ethic which aids its ascent, and which it bequeaths to the world.
In the cycle of human civilisation, with its periods of growth and downturns spanning centuries, Africa has also inevitably occupied a dominant position by waging war against Rome and other empires. In total, of the 200 empires chronicled to have dominated the last 6,000 years, at least 37 were either African or extended to Africa…
Even supposing the absence of a clear export to the wider human race, at the very least Africans can take pride in the mere existence and sophistication of these empires and ancient cities. Axum, for example, was among the first empires to fully endorse an official religion around the same time as Constantine issued his edict in the 300s AD. Although one may argue against the nationalisation of religion—more so Christianity, given the hegemonic undertones of such endorsement—such a move unifies the metaphysics of an empire, providing its citizens with a commonality of ethics and moral codes.
And so, for an African renaissance to flourish, a line has to be drawn in the sands of history reconnecting the broken and disjointed retelling of African history such that the end product is a wholesome narration of the path the African soul has trodden from the medieval world into modernity. In the arts, a string from Timbuktu and Alexandria to modern studies about Africa; in military strategy, a link between the Great Hannibal Barca of North Africa to modern military strategies.
The recent uprisings in Algeria and Sudan have ignited revolutionary fervour across sub-Saharan Africa, rekindling a hope and a desire for change, whose final outcome isn’t yet clear. Political revolutions, unconnected from clear pedagogy, can easily precipitate unintended chaos on a scale often far more anarchic than the organised repression of the toppled regime. Revolutions devoid of a guiding ideology and a critical pool of enlightened individuals generate a crusading fervour that is a recipe for ever greater barbarism.
A coalescing of historical forces, renewed knowledge production and an Africa teeming with continental artists, intellectuals, writers, entertainers, and local conglomerates, from media houses, and record labels to nightclubs, manufacturing plants, civic organisation, religious movements and theatres, can help fuel a thriving African renaissance.
Currently, the 54 states that lie within the colonial African boundaries have succumbed to the lightning speed of technology and finance in ways such that the utility value of nation-states as the critical form of organisation must give way to cross-border cultural liaisons and imports. Communitarianism revives the age-old desire for new forms of human organisation unmitigated by the ever expanding bureaucracy of statecraft and its burdening tentacles.
By its very nature renaissance in and of itself carries a level of in-built cultural awakening which potentially infuses a vibrant consciousness in the masses. Contrasted with revolutions where the drastic takedown of symbolic leaders within the old structures creates an illusion of change, renaissance instigates the production of new knowledge, identity and consciousness with a far longer-lasting impact on group and self-identity. Writing on the Harlem Renaissance, the journalist and social critic Alain Locke referred to renaissance as “a spiritual coming of age” of blacks who were clasping their “first chances for group expression and self-determination”.
The resurgence of Nigerian literature, Tanzanian ethno-musicality, and greater sub-Saharan ownership of historical art anchored in gradual identity formation are hopeful manifestations of African renaissance in literature, business, stage performance, music, and the arts.
Digitisation and the attendant democratisation of cultural production and knowledge exchange amplifies critical yet marginalised voices in ways that upstage the age-old elitist models of knowledge production. Renaissance, therefore, isn’t so much the creation of newer forms of cultural and artistic expression as much as it is the retrieved anthropological knowledge of our ancient origins and developments. It is the drawing of a link to our unbroken African histories —grounded in a renewed interest in social production—which for now are sadly domiciled in imperial vaults across the oceans.
A demographic that is increasingly young and black, averaging 2.5 billion in number, will dominate the global landscape circa 2050AD and tilt the global racial numerical dominance towards the global South with massive implications. Demographic explosions, if coupled with distributive policies and expansionary goals, translate the numerical advantage into demographic dividends whose payoff lasts for decades. Conversely, when saddled with decaying nation-states led by kleptocratic and unimaginative elites within vassal states—such as in Kenya and South Africa—sharp increases in population translate into a demographic burden.
The resurgence of Nigerian literature, Tanzanian ethno-musicality, and greater sub-Saharan ownership of historical art anchored in gradual identity formation are hopeful manifestations of African renaissance in literature, business, stage performance, music, and the arts.
Africa does not have much time left. We face environmental collapse, ethnic cleansing and debt bondage. Decades of cultural propaganda have desensitised many of the youth to the dangers inherent in losing cultural sovereignty. This, coupled with the cynical and inept example set by the older generation in power, have created societies that are very vulnerable to any passing idea that could lead to a takeover. The urgency to reignite African consciousness given the rapid shift of the current global paradigms away from the Euro-American centre, places the burden of restitutive demands on the African intellectuals given that they are the current producers of knowledge. Demography isn’t always destiny and if not well managed, such a population explosion—and the rising pressure on nature and urban systems—could actually precipitate widespread ecological destruction.
Africa’s primary hope in many ways isn’t domiciled in the hare-brained ideas and visions peddled by middle-aged white men colluding in the plunder of African resources or the hegemonic gaze, whether facing East or West. The crucible of African renewal will be a deliberate decision by Africans to construct a narrative of a robust, generative, diverse identity born of the African experience.
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Whiteness and the Future of Artificial Intelligence
Tracing the digital contours of the settler colony helps us understand how old inequalities will shape a future with artificial intelligence.
For much of the nineteenth century, Sundays in an open field at the gates of New Orleans saw a spectacular congregation of human activity. Picture a hot, humid, swampy Louisiana summer day, the Spanish moss dripping from the trees, and the bass drum pulse reverberating as you approach a mass gathering at the fringe of the United States’s most Caribbean city.
You’d see New Orleaneans of all stripes, dressed in everything from the latest Parisian fashions to simple rags, standing around in circles, watching the most talented musicians, dancers, actors, and diviners of their city on full display.
If you could have angled your head to see inside the circle, you would be privileged to witness the diversity of humanity coming together. People from across Africa and the Americas co-mingling, sharing their culture, celebrating the arrival of the one day they can express their home and ancestral cultures in public.
Unaware that their communing would one day birth a novel culture, which would in turn branch out to influence cultures in the rest of the world, there must have been an urgent feeling to the gatherings, fleeting if not quite ephemeral, but temporary enough to make them feel dreamlike, religious even. As soon as that feverish dream of a day would break, they would be returning to unpaid labor, toiling in fields or answering to the whims of their white masters. Because they were not, in the society in which they lived, human.
In 2018, after returning to the US from living in Brazil, I visited New Orleans for the first time. While there, I picked up a book on the history of Congo Square, and in the following months I couldn’t help from periodically daydreaming about the historical Sunday gatherings in that city. I drew parallels to the basement house party or the rented community center of my childhood in Milwaukee, where immigrants would dance the night away, speak in their own language, eat their own food, even worship in their own cosmos.
They were also there at the nightclub that I frequented as a student in Madrid, filled with young men who may have risked their lives crossing deserts and seas to arrive in Europe, and who now danced in the center of circles to Youssou N’Dour. Or they were in the hidden away bars and nightclubs of New York and San Francisco, where migrants of a variety of classes and national origins brushed up against each other, catching up on the latest sounds from their various home lands. They were also in online spaces, in which young people across the world found a foothold for expression, with various permutations of digital soul music pulsing on the parallel circuits of a global capitalism still guided by the logic of white supremacy.
Connecting a historical moment like Congo Square to my own experiences helped to challenge lingering colonial logics embedded within my imaginings of America’s past. It particularly helped to destroy an invisible line that tends to be drawn between those whose ancestors arrived on these shores from Africa in bondage hundreds of years ago, and those who arrived more recently for other purposes. It forced me to recognize that African migration to the Americas (or elsewhere) can and should be thought of as a continuum, and the humanity of those who migrate, forced or by choice, is unbroken across space and time.
Last summer, I sat in a parking lot in King City, California, a small town surrounded by mountains and endless fields of fruit and vegetables, listening to a local Spanish language radio broadcast. On it, alongside various Mexican regional musics, they had public service announcements about COVID-19 and ads for English language classes. King City sits in the heart of one of the centers of industrial agriculture in the United States.
The manual labor performed in this region is done by workers from Mexico and Central America, some undocumented, but all descended from people who occupied and moved around these lands freely for thousands of years. Largely invisible in nearby wealthy urban enclaves, they are an integral labor force that save for a periodic scapegoating, demonization, and dehumanization in the media, isn’t normally seen as part of the nation—let alone having their hopes, joys, or individual expressions considered in mainstream discourse.
So I sat there, listening to the bright horn choruses and upbeat snare drum rolls, and imagined that these local radio broadcasts served to provide a sense of community and humanity to their audiences, not unlike those of the Sunday gatherings in New Orleans two hundred years ago. Humanity denied, humanity reclaimed, the contours of citizenship and their interplay with labor are perpetually dancing at the edges of the settler colony.
Contemporaneous to the gatherings at Congo Square, the American settler colony was in an expansive phase moving west across the North American continent. Around the same time, European powers were doling out territories for themselves in Africa, and across the world they accomplished these “civilizing missions” by pushing the existing inhabitants off of the land, killing or imprisoning them, or attempting to wipe out their way of life. The privileges of white settlers in these extensions of Europe were fortified by the legal structures of the colonial state. In the United States, laws like the Homestead Act and the Second Amendment to the Constitution turned white frontier families into state-sponsored militias, their structural advantage scrawled across the physical landscape of the continent.
In the wake of the guns and military campaigns (sometimes manned by colonised peoples themselves), urban professionals of the colonial metropoles followed with their pens, phonographs, and cameras and became the documentarians of the folk culture of the marginals, misfits, Native Americans and Africans at the frontier (as well in the working class neighborhoods of cities). These state agents and entrepreneurs would chronicle the transition from an Atlantic society based on slave labor to capitalism. The legends they constructed would become the foundation for an imperialist ideology that continues to this day.
Starting around the mid-1800s, the US witnessed the rise in popularity of the blackface minstrel show. Through the medium of vaudeville, and with Congo Square as one of the direct source materials, the minstrel show denigrated people of African descent (or anyone deemed other at the time), mocking the expressions of humanity that they managed, while simultaneously integrating them into the identity of the nation. This form of entertainment would produce America’s first pop stars who would in turn become global ambassadors for the new American society that was emerging.
The legal mechanisms for enclosure in the world of ideas mirrored those of physical territory. As communication technology rapidly advanced, the mechanical copyright emerged to protect property in the cultural realm. This mechanism ensured a structural advantage for those with the resources to extract and define the value of the culture of those at the margins. The owners of patents and copyrights did more than just document their changing world, they also ossified racial categories and ushered racism along from the biological realm into the cultural one. This was the foundation on which the global entertainment industries of today were built.
After the very slow and wrought process of abolishing Atlantic slavery, and the violent consolidation of the colonial territories, by the turn of the twentieth century debates about citizenship and civil rights would arise to mask the battlefield over humanity. As Native Americans were cordoned off to reservations, Africans in the Americas would be folded into the nation as Black (Negro, Colored, etc). And as the western literary genre moved from the written word to the screen, and the minstrel show moved from live theater, to radio and phonograph, to film and television, the twin legacies of the fascination with and denigration of a dehumanized other would leave their mark on each.
White capitalist copyright owners would position themselves as the authoritative gatekeepers on the pure folk cultures of the inferior races, or white performers, on stage with their actual faces, would insert themselves as the individual genius responsible for the synthesis of a unique cultural innovation, the social relations behind the slick final product forever obscured. While various cultural rebellions have arisen throughout the years to counter these processes of dehumanization, the tools of extraction inherited from the nineteenth century have proven to be more than effective in upholding the logic of empire and racial capitalism.
In parallel to this cultural push and pull, a political debate would arise amongst Black Americans over how to (or whether to) integrate into the settler colonial society. Visions of a return to Africa would wax and wane, while an anti-colonial politics was violently repressed. Ultimately, the call to own property as a way to secure one’s rightful place within the nation, the ghosts of 40 acres and a mule, would ring out loud over the decades. This echo has found new life in today’s discourse around race, resulting in an ascendant black nationalist purism, particularly online. This trend is unfortunate. While there is certainly agency within the beauty and virtuosity that has come into the world as a result of the cultural resilience of African descended peoples in the Americas, it doesn’t mean that it is the result of some intrinsic quality unique to one racial group or national historical context.
In fact, it could be argued that the African retentions that remain in the Americas survived because the dominant systems either tolerated them or weren’t able to read them as such. In other words: Black American cultures have arisen as a result of both black resilience and white supremacy. Still, America’s Blackness is one of the most important cultural expressions of resilience and resistance in modern society. To put an enclosure around it only reinforces the settler colonial mentality, leaving the aims of universal humanism incomplete. Even those Africans at Congo Square, who helped start this whole thing in the first place, would likely remain outside of the gates.
Just over an hour drive from that King City parking lot where I was listening to the radio in Spanish, and on the western edge of the continental territory colonised by the United States, sits the headquarters of the world’s most valuable companies: Google, Facebook, Tesla, Apple—the heart of the global information economy. Even though the bubble of the California Gold Rush has long since burst (a process that seems to repeat itself every few decades), it has turned into a region with one of the largest concentrations of wealth in the world. If mass media was born amongst the colonization project of Euro-American imperialism, the dehumanization of non-European peoples, and the consolidation of racial capitalism, then today’s information economy is also built upon that same infrastructure.
On the wild frontiers of the early internet, online communities emerged that would freely exchange infinitely replicable digital material. In what many thought was a new reality of a post-scarce digitally permanent world, the reign of the regime of copyright briefly found itself in crisis. Music was the most fertile ground from which to declare one’s liberation, but it wasn’t the only one.
And while interaction with the old guard of racial capitalism allowed a tradition of gatekeeping and cultural appropriation inherited from vaudeville to continue, what had emerged within the confines of the virtual world—torrent libraries, file sharing sites, personal blogs, forums and chat rooms—collectively could be thought of as a sort of digital Congo Square. The response from the United States Department of Homeland Security, alongside other policing efforts, was to raid the safe houses of free exchange and try and put an end to it all through intimidation.
Before the average uploader became familiar with the DMCA takedown, some big companies looked at the anarchistic landscape and lured the loosely organized scattering of digital cultural producers onto their free platforms. Soundcloud, Youtube, Instagram, Twitter, etc all provided sleek design, convenience, and a veneer of protection from the harshest crackdowns by the state.
Yet, these platforms were not immune to the demands of capital or its watchdogs. Perhaps, they never were meant to be. Investors eventually wanted returns, and the landed copyright elite needed their cut too, and whether planned or not, all the platforms would eventually make concessions that favored the biggest property owners over the public. These concessions would eventually evolve into the phenomenon now popularly known as surveillance capitalism.
Eventually, the ideological struggles of our time would also move on to the individualized “feeds” and “timelines” of the Silicon Valley platforms. No longer reserved for the stage of fights between or within nations, political speech is tailored, tracked, and manipulated in the interest of generating more interaction with minimal regard to the real world consequences. We may constantly measure ourselves against how we think other people might see us online, but when you strip us back down to our most human needs and desires, the questions that concern much of the population of this planet are fairly simple: What is the right of any individual human to exist wherever they are on Earth? And, under what conditions do they have a right to do so?
So today, across the world, young people leave rural communities to work in the fields, mines, and factories that fuel the supply chains of multinational corporations with the slightest hope that integration into the global economy will provide a better future for them and their families. Masses from the urban margins take to the streets with the belief that by facing state violence head on they might bring about a more just reality for their communities.
And, when members of both groups feel like they have no alternative but to hit the unmarked highways of the world’s most dangerous migration routes and seek a better future elsewhere, they are doing so with the idea that the same world that can beam images and sounds via satellite to a mobile phone in their pocket must be able to recognize a humanity denied as a result of neocolonial economic, environmental, and military policy.
Like in the post-Reconstruction era in the US, many of the proposed solutions to the injustices that have emerged in the digital age have concentrated on finding technological fixes to restore (old) systems of fair(er) compensation for the output (input) of online denizens. However, rather than provide solutions to the structural inequalities inherent to capitalism, technological fixes such as blockchain capitalism, cash app mutual aid, personalized sponsorship accounts, and other enclosure-oriented solutions ultimately retrofit the infrastructures of exploitation against the claims of universal humanism. While there certainly is value in building community online, especially as a form of resistance or resilience, the question remains: What forms of online participation emerge from the claims to humanity of the marginals, misfits, Native Americans and Africans at the frontier?
And in our resistance, we should also never forget that the reality of surveillance capitalism is that one person’s individual wealth, clout, or social relevance is insignificant in comparison to the aggregate picture of all the behaviors of the world’s population.
By the time the platforms had a monopoly on audiences, they no longer needed the cultural products they claimed to be supporting to have any exchange value at all (with human moderation becoming fertile ground for corruption or payola). While influencers try to squeeze out a few pennies from sponsors or trickle down monetization schemes based on clout they’ve managed to accumulate in their online and real world social networks, the runways of the digital future are paved with the promise of returns from the proprietary algorithms built on data hoarded from the behavior of the masses.
As it stands, a few companies, concentrated in specific geographic locations, fortified by an accumulated wealth never seen before, defended by the largest military force ever to exist, swallow and secure all the information we give them: our behaviors, our desires, all of our humanistic acts and expressions, and employ small armies to sort, categorize, process and program, with the end goal of creating an “artificial intelligence” that can ultimately stake a claim to humanity too.
However, unlike the popular science fiction fantasy in which the future battles for humanity will happen between robots and humans, as big tech plans an exit from a planet in crisis, our future struggles are more likely to look like the age old one of humans who can harvest the fruits of their enclosures versus those of us who can’t. So, if blackness is the foundational currency on which the capitalist information economy is built, what will whiteness mean to a cyborg.
Combatting the Desert Locust Menace
In January 2020 Kenya experienced the worst locust invasion in 70 years. So intense were the infestations that they posed a serious risk of food insecurity to the country and the region.
Locusts are small creatures measuring approximately 0.5 to 3 inches long and weighing 0.07 ounces that belong to the grasshopper family. The average lifecycle of a locust is three to six months. In normal circumstances they are solitary but can change their behaviour and become gregarious under certain conditions. During the dry season, they tend to swarm together in the scant patches of vegetation. The swarming causes serotonin to release into their central nervous system, promoting rapid movement, giving them appetite for a more varied diet leading to their rapid spread.
The onset of rains brings with it an increase in lush vegetation, favouring the rapid increase of the insects and triggering their gregarious phase during which the desert locust can be devastating, consuming its weight in food in a day. In each square kilometre of a swarm there can be as many as 40 million individuals capable of destroying in day enough food to feed more than 35,000 people.
Towards the end of 2019, the East African region experienced an invasion of desert locusts of a scale not witnessed in the region in decades. The desert locusts descended on farmland in Kenya, Somalia and Ethiopia in their hundreds of millions.
According to scientists, two cyclones in 2018 — Cyclone Mekunu in May and Cyclone Luban in October — caused massive rainfall in the Arabian Desert, a factor that facilitated the breeding of desert locusts. The rains were enough to create ephemeral lakes in the desert, a favourable breeding ground for desert locusts. It is believed that this phenomenon is likely to have enabled the formation of three generations of locust deserts, increasing the number of the swarming locusts 8,000-fold.
As is the nature of the desert locust, the swarms began to migrate and by the summer of 2019 they were crossing the Red Sea and the Gulf of Aden into the Eastern Africa countries of Ethiopia and Somalia. The desert locusts continued to breed for several months, with the autumn rains experienced in the East Africa region — capped by cyclonic storm Pawan, experienced in December of 2019 and responsible for rainfall in Somalia — triggering another reproductive cycle of the desert locusts.
The swarms of locusts continued to grow and arrived in Kenya towards the end of December 2019, rapidly moving through the northern and central parts of the country. By the end of January 2020, Kenya was experiencing the worst locust invasion in 70 years. So intense were the infestations — which moved through the neighbouring countries of Eritrea and Djibouti, finding their way to northern Tanzania and northeast Uganda in mid-February — that they posed a serious risk of food insecurity in the region.
The impact of the locust invasion was severe and continues to be felt to this day. In as much as Kenya has made significant steps in combating desert locusts infestations, new infestations continue swarming into the country and farmers in the north and in some parts of central Kenya continue to grapple with the huge losses caused by the invasions.
According to reports by the Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO), about 20.2 million people in the Eastern Africa region faced acute food insecurity in 2020 alone, a condition that was worsened by the desert locust infestations and the Covid-19 pandemic. Further, according to the FAO, desert locusts have the potential to affect 20 per cent of the earth’s land and put into jeopardy the livelihoods of a tenth of the world’s population.
As explained at the beginning of this article, the desert locust has the potential to destroy in one day food that can feed over 35,000 people, threatening a country with food insecurity. But while this might be the immediate impact of a desert locust invasion, infestations have other long short- and long-term effects.
It is said that a healthy nation is a productive nation. However, locust invasions have the potential to nullify this statement in less than a week of their landing in a region. The recent and ongoing wave of locust infestations has driven families and vulnerable groups into poverty and hunger, a situation that has been worsened by the Covid-19 pandemic.
Desert locusts have the potential to affect 20 per cent of the earth’s land and put into jeopardy the livelihoods of a tenth of the world’s population.
Desert locust infestations are not only a threat to crops but they also threaten the survival of livestock. The FAO reported that in Ethiopia alone, an early assessment of the impact of the wave of locust invasions showed that more than 5,000 square miles of pastureland and 800 square miles of cropland were destroyed. The infestation also caused the loss of over 350,000 metric tonnes of dry grains and cereal, resulting in over one million people experiencing hunger and needing food aid.
A nation that is not food secure is a nation that is not secure at all. Hunger and poverty contribute to increased crime in a country, driving people to engage in all manner of vice in an effort to survive.
Food insecurity is also a leading cause of increased government borrowing in a bid to alleviate the suffering of the population. The borrowing, which is meant to cushion the nation from the effects of the invasion and other resultant challenges, leads to a ballooning national debt and a high cost of living. Locust invasions also seriously affect a country’s export earnings which has a direct effect on previously planned expenditures. Locust infestations also tend to derail the development agenda of a country as it is forced to put scheduled plans on hold in order to deal with the invasion.
How then can a country deal with locust infestations to guarantee its food security and avert the challenges associated with such invasions? Biological methods of pest control are safest, both for the environment and for humans. However, biological methods of desert locust control may not be effective, especially in cases where swarms are involved.
The most commonly used biological method of pest control is the use of a predator to eliminate the pest. However, the challenge with this method is that it cannot be effective in controlling large swarms of locusts as they can easily fly away from their predators. Another challenge is that locusts barely stay put for more than a day or two since they are constantly looking for food and therefore cannot be easily contained and controlled.
A nation that is not food secure is a nation that is not secure at all.
The other option of locust control would be to use of nets to capture swarms. However, this method of control can only be effective on a small scale since large swarms of locusts can fly above and past the nets.
Scaring the swarms away is yet another method of locust control. However, it can only be implemented in small areas since scaring the pests away only drives them to the next available vegetation for them to devour.
Consequently, the most effective method of controlling large swarms of desert locusts is to spray organophosphate chemicals in small, concentrated volumes using aerial sprayers, vehicle-mounted sprayers, or from knapsack or handheld sprayers in smaller areas.
However, spraying chemicals to control locusts also has adverse effects on nature and on living organisms. For instance, while the use of the Metarhizium biopesticide was found to be 70 to 90 per cent effective in the control of locusts, with no measurable impact on non-target organisms, this is not the case with other chemical formulations that wipe out both the target and non-target organisms, immensely impacting the ecological balance.
During the recent wave of locust invasions experienced in Kenya and the larger East African region, the FAO has collaborated with the local and national governments to mitigate the spread of these swarms to other areas by spraying pesticides both on the ground (to kill any eggs or nymphs) and aerially in areas where it is safe to do so. Research is ongoing to develop formulations that have the least impact on non-target organisms.
Notably, the FAO is working closely with 51 Degrees Ltd. to bring the desert locust situation under control using a hotline system integrated with tracking software, trained scouts, and aircraft. The EarthRanger system captures and transmits locust sightings and movements, making it easier to control the warms. Initially developed to track poaching, the method has been yielding positive results in locust control in Kenya.
Planning by governments is essential in ensuring that a country is not caught off-guard by infestations in the future. Having mitigation measures in place to reduce the impact of locust infestations on a country’s economy is crucial.
Locusts are an important part of the grassland ecosystem as they stimulate nutrient cycling and play a crucial role in food chains. As such, governments should think of balanced ways to control these insects while at the same time maintaining the much-needed balance in the ecosystem. Controlling the locusts ensures that a country enjoys food security and also averts other challenges brought on by locust invasions.
While biological control may prove hard to implement, especially where large swarms of locusts are involved, the government can come up with other safe control mechanisms that do not affect the environment and ecological balance. For instance, finding a way of preventing swarms of locusts from landing on crops as they migrate can be a good way to ensure that a country’s food security is safeguarded.
Planning by governments is essential in ensuring that a country is not caught off-guard by infestations in the future.
Additionally, investing in research to better understand the biology of locusts, their breeding habits and migratory patterns, and applying the ecological niche modeling approach to predict the breeding sites of locusts can be very useful in controlling these insects. Institutions such as the International Centre of Insect Physiology and Ecology (ICIPE) in Kenya have been at the forefront in researching better ways to combat locust infestations using this approach.
The model proposes the use of historical datasets of the breeding patterns of desert locusts in the Middle East and in the Sahel region to predict the probability of locusts breeding in the East African region. This type of research identifies the desert locust breeding hotspots and better prepares a country to combat the menace. Through such an approach, the government can come up with a cost-effective, site-specific, and targeted management of crawling hoppers before they become gregarious adults, thus minimising the risk of an outbreak.
Kenya: Will Recognising Ethnic Identities Lead To Positive Outcomes?
Countries that adopt ethnic recognition go on to experience less violence, more economic vitality, and more democratic politics.
Kenyans are preparing to amend the country’s 2010 constitution, with a referendum tentatively scheduled for June 2021. The amendments focus on ensuring shared prosperity, managing ethnic diversity, and avoiding divisive elections.
After two rejected polls, increasing tensions and pockets of violence, opposition leader Raila Odinga and presidential victor Uhuru Kenyatta shook hands in March 2018 and agreed to work together under what they termed the Building Bridges Initiative.
Its report has a section on “Ethnic Antagonism and Competition which highlights the need to “find ways of managing … diversity” and preventing “ethnic conflicts in Kenya.”
The report holds that the ethnicised winner-takes-all nature of Kenyan politics has been at the root of the country’s election instability. But debate over its proposals, which are now included in the Constitution of Kenya (Amendment) Bill, continues.
Much of the debate is around ethnic representation in government, equitable sharing of resources among Kenya’s diverse ethnic communities, and the role of the current political elite in future governance structures.
In our book, Diversity, Violence, and Recognition: How Recognizing Ethnic Identity Promotes Peace, we investigate some of the same issues debated in Kenya today.
We focus on contexts around the world that, like Kenya, are ethnically diverse and have experienced violent conflict on so-called ethnic lines. This means the religious, tribal, caste, racial, or other descent-based characteristics along which politics and society have been structured.
We examine the strategies that different countries have chosen to manage such conflict. In particular we study how and why leaders choose to recognise or avoid reference to ethnic identities in government institutions and the effects of this choice on peace.
Our findings were surprisingly clear: countries that adopt ethnic recognition go on to experience less violence, more economic vitality, and more democratic politics. But these effects depend on which ethnic group is in power.
We studied constitutions and peace agreements from 57 countries around the world from Afghanistan to Ethiopia, Burundi to the United Kingdom (Northern Ireland). The countries we studied experienced violent conflict between 1990 and 2012. We searched each document to determine whether or not they named different ethnic groups as part of the body politic.
We found that globally, 43% of post-conflict constitutions and peace agreements named ethnic groups. Sometimes this ethnic recognition comes with group differentiated rights like representation quotas or autonomy arrangements. But in other cases it is largely symbolic.
In Kenya’s case, the 2010 constitution mentions “ethnic diversity” but it does not name specific ethnic groups. The same is true of the Building Bridges Initiative proposals and the constitution amendment bill.
We also found that there was a pattern that distinguished the contexts where ethnic recognition was adopted: the leader was typically from the largest ethnic group. When leaders from the largest ethnic group were in power, ethnic recognition was adopted 60% of the time. However, in contexts of minority ethnic rule, ethnic recognition was adopted only 24% of the time.
Ethnic recognition is less common in Africa than in other regions. Still, there are notable instances of recognition on the continent like Burundi and Ethiopia.
Why it matters
We used statistical analysis to compare trends in countries with and without ethnic recognition. On average, countries that explicitly recognise different ethnic groups in their constitutions or peace agreements go on to experience less violence, more economic vitality, and greater democracy than countries that did not.
We believe that this is because ethnic recognition, and policies connected to it, help to manage mistrust between groups.
Recognition allows groups to know how they are doing compared to others through metrics like group-based statistics. This brings issues pertaining to inequality or exclusion out of the sphere of rumour and speculation. In addition, group-based rights such as representation quotas dampen fears that one group will dominate state institutions.
While recognition leads to a number of positive societal effects, we found that these effects depend on the ethnic group in power. The beneficial effects of recognition have been most powerful for countries where the leader is from the largest ethnic group. In contexts of minority ethnic rule, leaders have to balance the rights that recognition offers with countermeasures to prevent larger ethnic groups from winning power.
Take for example, Burundi. It’s last three presidents have been from the majority Hutu ethnic group. Some may worry that formally recognising ethnic identities could entrench mobilisation along ethnic lines. But political dynamics in Burundi illustrate the opposite.
It also named ethnic groups in its 2005 constitution. The constitution established ethnically based quotas for parliament, political parties, the military, and other state institutions. As a result, inter-ethnic conflict has become increasingly less relevant politically.
This has not been the case in neighbouring Rwanda, which is led by an ethnic minority leader. Rwanda’s post-genocide constitution seeks to “eradicate ethnic identity”. But deep inter-ethnic mistrust persists. This is despite laws that restrict references to ethnic identity except when commemorating genocide victims.
Ethnic recognition policies can appear in different sectors from the executive, legislative or judiciary, civil service and the security sector, to education and language. It can be the basis for different types of national strategies to build social cohesion.
For example, Burundi’s approach since the enactment of its 2005 constitution has been to use ethnic quotas to balance and integrate groups within state institutions. This has promoted cooperative intergroup contact, which has helped to reduce inter-ethnic mistrust.
Since its 1995 constitution Ethiopia has also taken an ‘ethnic recognition’ approach to governance. However, its ethno-federal regime has put more emphasis on granting regional autonomy rights, including a right to secession.
It is conceivable that an autonomy-based strategy could offer assurances that promote national unity, but the current dynamics in Ethiopia suggest a high degree of volatility.
Many wish for a foolproof recipe for managing diversity in conflict-affected contexts. There isn’t one. But Kenyans are not alone in debating best strategies. Our book offers accounts of other countries’ experimentation and reminds us that constitutional moments are high stakes and that institutional choices matter.
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