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Speak of Me as I Am: Ethiopia, Native Identities and the National Question in Africa

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Does a country create a people, or do a people create a country? KALUNDI SERUMAGA responds to Mahmood Mamdani’s recent analysis on the political situation in Ethiopia.

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Speak of Me as I Am: Ethiopia, Native Identities and the National Question in Africa
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The Westphalian principles, rooted in the 1648 Treaties signed in the European region of that name, have been monstrously mis-applied when it comes to the African continent, yet they established modern international relations, particularly the inviolability of borders and non-interference in the domestic affairs of sovereign states.

The default position of a certain generation and class of African nationalist, is to cleave unto the “new” nation born at Independence, as the only legitimate basis upon which African progress can be conceived and built. Everything else, especially that dreaded category, ‘ethnicity’ is cast as a diversion and dangerous distraction.

This is the tone that runs through Ugandan Professor Mahmoud Mamdani’s one thousand-word opinion piece: The Trouble With Ethiopia’s Ethnic Federalism, published on 3rd January for the New York Times by (and patriotically reproduced in Uganda’s Daily Monitor newspaper), bearing a total of fifty-four iterations of the word ‘ethnic’.

The default position of a certain generation and class of African nationalist, is to cleave unto the “new” nation born at Independence, as the only legitimate basis upon which African progress can be conceived and built.

At Independence, the Westphalia protocols were conferred on to the former colonial contraptions. The results were economic stagnation and political repression. For over five decades, these new nations have been the focus of intellectual and political agitation among Africa’s thinkers. When, after all that rumination and fulmination, our thinkers still get things horribly back to front, we all get stuck at a crossroads.

Mamdani’s essay comes as our current Exhibit A in this long history of intellectual malfunction. Current Prime Minister, the youthful Abiy Ahmed is faced with a many-sided series of demands from a deeply frustrated population. Many of these relate directly to the lack of an economic growth model that palpably raises living standards. Others reach further back to the age-old question of land ownership and reform. Naturally, the demand for greater civic rights to speech and assembly come as a prerequisite. One feature common to these demands is the tendency for the Ethiopians to speak through, and/or on behalf of the various constitutionally recognised native identities within the country. Some may have even formed militias for this purpose.

Mamdani’s essay comes as our current Exhibit A in this long history of intellectual malfunction.

Mamdani engages with this to make an analysis not just of the Ethiopian crisis itself, but of the question of what he terms “ethnicity” which, he sees as the issue – or more accurately, the ‘problem’ – permanently bedevilling African politics. “Fears of Ethiopia suffering Africa’s next interethnic conflict are growing,” he warns.

Prime Minister Abiy has been quick to concede much, and roll out as many reforms as he can. Most notably, he has ended the two-decade stand-off with his northern neighbour, Eritrea.

Mamdani engages with this to make an analysis not just of the Ethiopian crisis itself, but of the question of what he terms “ethnicity” which, he sees as the issue – or more accurately, the ‘problem’ – permanently bedevilling African politics.

This may not be enough, Mamdani tells us. The real problem, as he sees it, is the introduction of ethnicity into Ethiopian governance, and its central position in the Ethiopian constitution. This, Professor Mamdani says, was done by former Prime Minister, the late Meles Zenawi, who served as the de facto Ethiopian strongman from 1991 to 2012. Mamdani describes this as an attempt to replicate a similar strategy of ethnic organization that, in his view, was introduced to Africa as part of the colonial method of governing:

“In most of Africa, ethnicity was politicized when the British turned the ethnic group into a unit of local administration, which they termed ‘indirect rule.’ Every bit of the colony came to be defined as an ethnic homeland, where an ethnic authority enforced an ethnically defined customary law that conferred privileges on those deemed indigenous at the expense of non-indigenous minorities.”

This analysis fails to stop itself there, which would have been bad enough.

“The move,” continues the Professor, “was a response to a perennial colonial problem: racial privilege for whites mobilized those excluded as a racialized non-white majority. By creating an additional layer of privilege, this time ethnic, indirect rule fragmented the racially conscious majority into so many ethnic minorities, in every part of the country setting ethnic majorities against ethnic minorities.”

Describing native homelands as a “fiction”, the Professor goes on to say that while such ethnic labelling and selective privileging may have served the colonial purpose, it had the effect of first, “dividing a racially conscious African population” and second, turning them into people who saw themselves as “tribes” first and foremost.

Thus, he concludes, “Wherever this system continued after independence, national belonging gave way to tribal identity as the real meaning of citizenship.”

Having thus problematized the “ethnic” thing, Mamdani goes on to imply that there may be no peace to come in Ethiopia unless the issue is excised from the Ethiopian body politic in particular, and Africa in general.

These words have many meanings, none of them good for Africans, at least.

First, this is the same thing as saying that before European arrived in Africa, “ethnic” identities were not politicized, and neither were they units of administration. Taken to its logical conclusion, this is to say that there were no ‘politics’ in precolonial Africa, and neither were there forms of administration.

Having thus problematized the “ethnic” thing, Mamdani goes on to imply that there may be no peace to come in Ethiopia unless the issue is excised from the Ethiopian body politic in particular, and Africa in general.

Africans seem to have been roaming the continent as a cohort of an undefined but also homogenous mass, with wholly insignificant identities, which were only solemnised, formalized, and bestowed with political meaning with the arrival of a European power amongst them.

Second, it also implies that only the European had the skill to animate these identities, without them tearing the (therefore necessary) European-planted state apart.

Third, that the tragedy of modern Africa began when the European withdrew his controlling hand. Left to their own devices, the identities he had created, mutated into a Frankenstein’s monster of tribal strife.

Fourth, that there is such a thing as ‘national identity’ that sprung to life fully formed at independence, a good by-product of the European-planted state, and that it is African ‘tribalism’ that destroys it. In other words, European-invented African tribalism spoils the one good thing (nationalism) that Europe brought to Africa.

Finally, that belonging to the European-planted nation in Africa is the only viable means of an African citizenship. But if the British were pre-occupied with “ethnicizing”, and the resultant people’s feelings and loyalties were exclusively ethnic, where then does “national belonging” come from at independence?

The entire analysis of the crisis is a crisis in itself: of naming, histories, theories and practice. It is intellectually disingenuous and patronising, and goes beyond the usual linguistic demotion and belittling one usually encounters from many an expert on Africa.

Naming

Why are 34 million Oromo in Ethiopia an ‘ethnicity’, and 5.77 million Danes a ‘nation’?

Why are the three great wars that shaped modern Europe (Franco-Prussian, the 1914-18 and 1939-1945 great wars), not conceptualized as ethnic conflicts?

Mamdani’s entire analysis of the crisis is a crisis in itself: of naming, histories, theories and practice. It is intellectually disingenuous and patronising, and goes beyond the usual linguistic demotion and belittling one usually encounters from many an expert on Africa.

Why are there only a handful of contemporary states in Africa whose names bear a relation to the identity of people actually living there. Everyplace else is a reference to a commodity, or an explorer’s navigational landmarks.

This frankly malevolent labelling offers the space for the linguistic demotion of entire peoples. To wit: 34 million Oromo, seven million Baganda, 43 million Igbo, 10 million Zulu will always remain ‘ethnicities’ and ‘tribes’ to be chaperoned by ‘whiteness’. 5.77 million Danes, 5.5 million Finns, and just 300,000 Icelanders can be called ‘nations’, complete with their own states with seats at the UN.

Some of these states were only formed less than two centuries ago (Italy: 1861, Germany: 1815, Belgium: 1830), while some of those ‘tribes’, and most critically for the argument, their governing institutions had already been created.

Why has the ethno-federalization of Great Britain itself, not been seen as such, and as a recipe for conflict?

This, in fact, is the real ‘fiction’, and it has led to decades of instability. But just because Westphalia does not see them, does not mean the African nations don’t exist. The denial of their existence is in fact, an act of violence.

This is what led a thus exiled Buganda’s Kabaka Edward Muteesa II to write: “I have never been able to pin down precisely the difference between a tribe and a nation and see why one is thought to be so despicable and the other so admired.”

Many modern Africans, especially those whose identity is a product of the European imposition of contemporary African states, have a vested interest in making a bogeyman out of native African identity. The starting point of this enterprise is to invite the African to agree to see our own identities as a liability to African progress, by labelling them “ethnic”.

When “ethnic” conflicts do flare up, those natives who have refused to jump on to this bandwagon are subjected to a big “I told you so”, as Mamdani’s essay now seeks to do.

Many modern Africans, especially those whose identity is a product of the European imposition of contemporary African states, have a vested interest in making a bogeyman out of native African identity.

This was the position of the OAU member states, and many African political parties, including those in opposition to their increasingly repressive post-Independence governments.

But Ethiopia presents a huge problem for Professor Mamdani’s theory of the colonial roots of “ethnicity”, since its history falls outside the usual African pattern of a direct experience of European colonialism.

Since his initial assertion when introducing the issue of ‘ethnicity’, was that it was a result of European labelling leading to a “divide and rule” situation, Mamdani is then faced with the difficulty of explaining where those particular Ethiopian ‘ethnicities’ spring from if there were no Europeans creating them. Unless, to develop his assertion of homelands being a ‘fiction’, he thinks Ethiopia’s various nationalities are fictional too?

Ethiopia presents a huge problem for Professor Mamdani’s theory of the colonial roots of “ethnicity”, since its history falls outside the usual African pattern of a direct experience of European colonialism

He covers up this logical gap by pre-empting a proper discussion of that history. Then changing tack, he suggests that the presence of “ethnic” problems in Ethiopia, despite the country’s lack of a European colonial history actually shows that “ethnicity” is somehow a congenital defect in the body politic of all Africa.

“The country today resembles a quintessential African system marked by ethnic mobilization for ethnic gains.”

Of course the correct answer to all the above questions is that Africa’s Africans had their ‘ethnic’ identities well known and in place long before the arrival of any European explorer or conqueror. And these were not anodyne proto-identities, but actual political institutions and methods of organization and governance. But this is an inconvenient truth, because then it forces the proper naming of these alleged ‘ethnicities’: nations.

All told, deploying notions of “ethnicity” and “tribe” is a tactic to corral Africans into primordial nomenclatures, thereby avoiding a recognition of their pre-colonial formations as nations. It serves to fetishize the colonial project as the godsend device to rescue the African ethnic strife and predestined mayhem.

But if the 34 million Oromo are an ethnicity, then so are the 5.77 million Danes. More so for our situation so are the English, Scots and Welsh who field national teams during the World Cup and the Commonwealth games. We need consistency, people must be spoken of as they are.

Deploying notions of “ethnicity” and “tribe” is a tactic to corral Africans into primordial nomenclatures, thereby avoiding a recognition of their pre-colonial formations as nations.

Naturally, the emergent Independence-era African middle class was more than happy to go along with this erasure, in what Basil Davidson called an attempt at “the complete flattening of the ethnic landscape”, and even fine-tuned it. Where some concessions had been made to the existence of the old nations, these were quickly, often violently, dispensed with.

In British Africa, the politics of trying to dispense with this reality is what dominated virtually all the politics of pre-independence constitutional negotiations. The question informed even the political alliances that emerged at independence.

In Zambia it required a special constitutional pact between the new head of state, Kenneth Kaunda and the ruling council of the Barotse people – they have recently sought to repudiate it and return to their pre-colonial status.

Ghana’s Asante kings were against the British handing power to Nkrumah’s government. They argued that since they had ceded power to the British via treaty, then the departure of the British meant a termination of those treaties. Logically, therefore, that power should be re-invested in the ones it had been taken from under treaty.

In Kenya, the Maasai and the Coastal peoples used the same argument during the decolonisation conferences at Lancaster House. Significantly, the Somali rejected inclusion in the independence Kenyan state, insisting that they wanted to be integrated into independent Somalia. Unable to resolve the ‘Three Questions’ the Foreign and Colonial Office cynically kicked them into the not-very-long grass for the incoming leadership to deal with. The Mombasa Republican Council of today draws its political legitimacy from the updated colonial-era Witu Agreement of 1906, signed between their ancestors and the independence government.

Histories

To understand the current situation in Ethiopia, one must face up to the challenge of properly understanding any part of Africa, a continent so taxonomised and anthropologised by white thinking that it is barely recognizable on paper to its indigenous inhabitants.

It is a two-stage challenge. First: to understand Ethiopia’s history. To do that, one must first recognise and accept the possibilities of an African history not shaped, defined and animated by European imperatives. Africans, like all people, have been making their own history. And like people elsewhere, this has as much narration of the good as it does the bad.

To understand the current situation in Ethiopia, one must face up to the challenge of properly understanding any part of Africa, a continent so taxonomised and anthropologised by white thinking that it is barely recognizable on paper to its indigenous inhabitants.

Ethiopia’s crisis is a consequence of a century-old unravelling of the empire built by Emperor Menelik II (1889-1904).

As his title implies, this was not a nation, but an Empire: a territory consisting of many nations, brought into his ambit by one means or another.

Menelik’s motives and method can, and should be debated, but the fact is that Europe met its match in the Ethiopian Highlands, and were forced to leave Menelik to it.

Ethiopia’s crisis is a consequence of a century-old unravelling of the empire built by Emperor Menelik II (1889-1904).

Yes. Africans also produce momentous historical events. It is not an exclusive trait of white people.

We must get into the habit of discussing our own non-European driven history as a real thing with real meanings. Just as we may talk about the continuing long-term effects of the collapse of the Austro-Hungarian Empire on the European Balkan region, so can we talk about how the demise of Menelik’s empire continues to impact on the greater Horn region.

If that sounds far-fetched, bear in mind that since Menelik’s passing 120 years ago, Ethiopia has had only six substantive rulers: Zewditu/Selassie, Mengistu, Zenawi, Dessalegn and now Abiy.

On his passing, Menelik left a region covering more than three times the area he inherited. Prince Tafari, upon eventually inheriting the throne as Emperor Haile Selassie in 1930 simply sought to consolidate it.

In his 2002 biography: Notes from the Hyena’s Belly: An Ethiopian Boyhood, the Ethiopian author Nega Mezlekia tells the story of him and his family, as one of many Amhara families that migrate to Jijiiga, a region in the far east of Ethiopia during the reign of Emperor Selassie. This was part of a government programme of Amhara settlement to many parts of the Ethiopian countryside. Jijiiga is home to ethnic Somalis. Amhara expansion, one of several factors, eventually provokes an armed revolt. Ironically, the author in his youth joined the insurgents.

Emperor Selassie can be said to have made some errors, but the context is critical: his reign spanned a period that saw immense changes in global politics, and social ideas.

Consider his life and times:

He witnessed the two great inter-European wars, the fall of its empires (Italian, German, Ottoman, Japanese) and the end of direct European occupation of Africa. He suffered two European invasions of his realm, and lived in exile. He was a regent during the Bolshevic Revolution in 1917, and saw the emergence of the Soviet Union as a world superpower and the Cold War that followed. He may have been one of only a handful of world leaders to have been a member of both the United Nations, and the League of Nations that preceded it.

This sweep of history also had its impact on the Ethiopian peoples. One response was a growing demand for social, economic and political reform, including loosening the bonds of Selassie’s empire.

By the time of the 1975 coup against him, the world was a fundamentally different one than the one he had met when he took the throne. He was, in fact, so “old school” that his captors were taken aback when he calmly informed them that he had no personal income or savings to look after himself.

He took a hard line on Eritrea, which had settled into an uneasy federation, provoking a war of secession; continued Amhara settler expansion into Oromo and elsewhere; and he failed to manage Tigrayan nationalism, rooted partly in their dynastic loss of the imperial throne to that of Menelik’s Shewa kingdom. Critically, he did not effectively address agrarian land reform, one of the roots of the country’s political and agricultural crises.

So, to sum up Emperor Selassie: ultimately, he neither succeeds to fully consolidate his empire, nor does he re-order the empire’s boundaries and strictures, which he had inherited in a fundamentally different era. He found himself fighting the more conservative elements of his aristocracy opposed to his reforms; the modernist republicans concerned that he was not reforming fast enough; and the increasingly radical nationalists in the regions demanding self-determination.

Enter Colonel Mengistu, something of a zealot, but who, for all his violent tendencies, was more of the “social reform” persuasion, and sympathetic to the “land to the tiller” demands of the early radical youth movements. Having overthrown a monarch, he saw himself in the image of the Soviet Union’s Communist party in Russia which had deposed the Russian King Tsar Nicholas II. His task, as he saw it, was to create a socialist state.

However, Mengistu had basically taken over the same state that Selassie inherited and he was still wedded to it. His modernist concept of history and the world prevented him from understanding that he was dealing with a home-grown imperial history, and that he was in effect therefore, running an empire.

This blinds him to the “nationalities question”, and only intensifies the agitations among the various indigenous nations trapped in his now secular empire.

So, he basically tries to kill everybody opposed to him.

This is the reality Mamdani fails to see, and mistakenly calls Mengistu’s state a ‘unified republic’; interestingly, he does not offer any of the gruesome details of how Mengistu ‘instituted’ this so-called unification. The only places where Ethiopia was unified and a republic was in Mengistu’s mind (and in his armory). What the various territories wanted was recognition of their separate identities, and an unchallenged say over the land of their ancestors.

Mengistu’s response was to raise even higher the levels of violence needed to keep these rebellions in check, simultaneously fighting Tigrayan, Eritrean, Somali and Oromo insurgencies.

Theory and practice.

Ideologically, the leaderships of the Ethiopian insurgencies were taken over by persons claiming to be as Marxist as Lenin was. Eventually, all the belligerents, including the regime, claimed to be Marxist organisations, yet they were in conflict with each other. What intensified the crisis was the conflicting understandings of what Marxist practice should therefore be, in their context. It was at this point that a number of left-ideological debates came into play, and where a lot of left-ideologues lost their way.

Marxist theory, which mobilized millions of people worldwide, and its practical implications, should be examined with some care. History on this point is necessary.

These nationalist struggles based their arguments on the Leninist principle of “The Right of Small Nations to Self-Determination”, which had been partially applied in the Soviet Union from its formation in 1917. After Lenin’s death in 1924, his successor, Josef Stalin, found less time for it, and, in the face of sustained Western European aggression seemed to see it as a liability to the security of the revolution.

The 1975 coup that brought Mengistu to power (or, more accurately, the coup that Mengistu then subsequently violently hijacked) was a response to widespread unrest, particularly among youth and student movements. This led to a number of practical problems on the ground, in relation to ideology.

At the heart of both the Dergue and the later Tigrayan movements was the issue of land reform. Mamdani does note that the initial upheavals of the 1970s were driven by this, but then fails to make the correct links.

For the vast majority of Africans, especially back then, land is not just a place to live, but also a place of work. To be without land is to be without a secure job. Subsistence peasant agriculture is back-breaking, often precarious, and not financially lucrative. It is also – and many progressives fail to recognize this – autonomous. To a very great extent, the subsistence peasant is not dependent on the state or the global economy. If anything, those entities depend on the farmer whose austere lifestyle acts as a hidden subsidy in providing the market with cheaply-grown food at no investment risk to the consumer or the state. Clearly, one thing that can transform and undergird this existence is sensible reforms to the way the farmer secures tenure of the land they work.

But what happens when land rights encounter cultural rights based on land? A “homeland” is certainly not the “fiction” of Mamdani’s assertion. It hosts the identity and worldview of the people that occupy it. It holds their sacred sites, and places marking their cultural consciousness. More so, that culture underpins their ability to keep producing autonomously. To suggest that it does not exist or does not matter, actually shows a complete failure to grasp who black African people are and how they live, and think. It is a fundamentally anti-African statement implying, as it does, that black Africans do not have an internal intellectual and spiritual logic, developed indigenously, and augmented by physical spaces and objects within them, that informs a worldview. Africans, the suggestion is, are inherently transposable, as they are not tied to any thing or any place.

The captains of the old transatlantic slave ships could not have theorized it better.

Coming from someone who lives in Africa, this is a bit surprising. Coming from a professor heading an institute within one of Africa’s new universities, designed to bolster the colonial state’s mission of deracinating the African, perhaps less so.

However, the current crisis in Ethiopia is very real, and failure to finally resolve it holds huge implications for the entire region. That is precisely why a correct analysis is needed. Not a comfortable one rooted in essentially racist tropes.

The allegedly ‘ethnic demands’ were demands for a different type of guarantee to land rights than those being promoted by Mengistu. For example, would an Amhara family like Nega Mezlekia’s, originally settled by Emperor Selassie in Jijiiga, have a legally equal claim to land against the ethnic Somali communities native to the area, just because they now happen to be the ‘tillers’ there? Would there be a hierarchy of claims? In any event, who should decide? A central authority in Addis Ababa, or a federated unit representing the historic native community?

There are no easy answers. But the regime’s (and other ‘progressives’) complete refusal to even consider the issue, is what led to the conclusion that for there to be justice in Ethiopia, the issue of native nationalities, and their land-based cultural rights, would have to be physically resolved first. In short, it became clear that the land reform question could not be effectively addressed without also addressing the underlying question of productive cultural identities and the historical land claims that arise from that.

This was particularly sharp in those areas of the country –such as Oromo and Tigray- that are dominated by pastoralist communities. Historically, much of Africa’s land grabs have taken place against pastoralist communities, the great city of Nairobi being a prime example.

This is the basis of the ‘ethnic’ movements that have so perturbed Professor Mamdani. It was, in fact, a debate of the Left, and not some right-wing atavist distraction.

So, the great irony is that Ethiopia, home to that great bastion of mis-applied Westphalian thinking, the Organisation of African Unity, becomes ground zero for the great unresolved National Question as it applies to Independent Africa: what is an African nation, and is it the same thing as a given African state (or, more accurately, a state located in Africa)?

The armed struggle began in Eritrea, after Selassie’s unilateral abrogation of the federal arrangement. The original fighting group, called the Eritrean Liberation Front was soon violently displaced from the field by a more radical Eritrean Peoples’ Liberation Front of Isias Afwerki, espousing those aspects of Leninism and Maoism that enabled it to mobilise a broad front of all classes affected by the feeling of Occupation.

The rebels’ demands were clear: a federation of Ethiopia or separation from it; control of their own lands, and an equal recognition of cultures.

For his part, Mengistu, now fighting five separate militant groups, including a very militant hard-line the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Front based in urban Ethiopia, placed all his faith in military might. He ended up building the largest armed force in Sub-Saharan Africa (if not Africa as a whole) of some half- a million soldiers, and being heavily dependent on the Soviet Union, which saw him as a vital foothold in Africa, for war materiel and other supplies. He also received military support from Cuba. It again may not be widely known that at the height of the fighting, these different forces which had grown in to wholesale armies, were fighting some of the largest engagements (including tank battles) since the 1939-1945 European inter-ethnic conflict called the Second World War.

The fight progressively turned in favour of the rebels. With Mengistu’s main arms supplier, the Soviet Union, finally capitulating against the US in the Superpower contest in 1989, his forces were routed and he was driven from the capital in 1991.

The Eritrean armed struggle started in 1961, the Tigrayan one in 1975 and Oromo’s in 1973. All end with Mengistu’s fall.

If Mamdani genuinely believes these nationalities are just “ethnicities”, and that Ethiopia is now running the risk of hosting “Africa’s next inter-ethnic conflict”, then this history shows that Ethiopia has in fact already had the “next inter-ethnic” conflict. Mamdani’s fears, this is to say, are 30 or 40 years late.

To sum up Mengistu: he seized power in response to a severe political crisis, and then, misreading his position, sought to impose his concept of “socialism” on the various peoples still caught in the net of Menelik’s Empire state. This led to a situation of mounting violence, in which he saw just about everyone as an enemy to be physically crushed. His regime eventually succumbed to the overwhelming resistance.

Enter Meles Zenawi, who came out of that generation of student activists who took up the nationalities and land reform demands during the time of the Emperor. To many of them, Mengistu’s high-handedness in dealing with the matter was a disappointment. Tigrayans today do not easily recall that when Meles led the the youth to start the war, they sought refuge in Eritrea, and were nurtured and trained there by Isias Afwerki’s EPLF forces already at war against the Ethiopian state.

The issue of identity does not therefore mean that Africans are perennially and illogically at each others throats in some kind of primordial frenzy. They do politics, and are fully capable of defining their interests and maintaining relations, or breaking them off, as needs may dictate.

Zenawi (to an extent like Daniel Ortega on the other side of the world, and even Yoweri Museveni, in his own way), found himself in charge of a state now encountering a new, neo-liberal global world order being enforced by the only super power left standing. Like Selassie, the circumstances around them had changed greatly from when they had begun their political journeys.

Far from simply “introducing” a federal constitution whose “ethnic” nature Mamdani is problematizing, Zenawi’s regime was finally having the Ethiopian state recognise the long-standing historical realities that had emerged from decades of political and armed struggle.

To reduce the product of all that sweeping history to a notion of “fictions”, is a dangerous over-simplification.

In this quest for erasure, Mamdani applies the same misleading thinking backwards by calling the 1994 Ethiopian constitution a “Sovietificaton” of Ethiopia. The Russian nationalities were no more an invention of Lenin than the Ethiopian ones are of Meles Zenawi’s creation. The various units that made up the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics were based on nationalities long in place before the 1917 communist revolution took place there. The responsible thing to do, as a starting point, was acknowledge that fact, which the communists did (and Stalin to a greater extent than Lenin before him).

Yes, Meles was a dictator. And yes, the constitution is based on indigenous nations. That does not automatically suggest causality: Meles Zenawi did not “turn Ethiopia to ‘ethnic’ federalism”. Its long history did.

In fact, events show that Zenawi and the dominant faction he governed with, were no longer in support of the “rights of small nations” by the time they took power.

With the exception of holding the pre-agreed referendum on Eritrean independence (he may have had little choice in the matter: friends in Addis used to like to tell the story of how Meles’ own stepmother, who happens to be Eritrean, and who raised him, left him in his official Addis residence to go and vote for independence in Eritrea, then returned after), he fails to implement the spirit and the letter of the new arrangements that were based on principles forged in the course of the long war.

The best example is found in the very incident that sparked the current uprising: if the regime knew that – as Mamdani points out – the 1994 federal constitution guaranteed the nationalities concerned authority over their land, why then did it try to expand the boundaries of the Federal capital Addis further into Oromo territory over the objections of people there?

In other words, the problem in Ethiopia is the exact opposite of what Professor Mamdani sees. It is not the “ethnic” constitution at fault; it is the failure by the Zenawi regime to genuinely implement it, by negating the spirit of the idea in private, while pretending to uphold it in public.

In particular, Zenawi’s “Woyane” regime repeated Mengistu’s mistake of trying to hold on to Menelik’s state. Critically, he too failed to address the historic issue of land reform that began the whole shake-up of Ethiopia with the student protests against the Emperor. In practice, land is still the property of the state, to be handed out for “developmental” purposes, upholding the Mengistu mentality, but now in the context of global neo-liberalism.

“Derg and [the TPLF] took a very similar approach to the land question. Which is why, three decades after TPLF comes to power, they have still been unable to do land reform, abandoned agrarian reform and ironically, put rural Ethiopian land on the international auction. Something like four million acres of rural farmland, mostly in southern Ethiopia has been leased out to foreign investors since the mid-2000s, ” observes journalist Parselelo Kantai, who frequents the country.

Power comes with its temptations, and a state machine comes with its own institutional imperatives. It would appear that once a group finds itself in control of the apparatus of an empire such as Menelik’s, they become very reluctant to abandon its workings. Perhaps it is only the armed forces in Portugal, having overthrown their autocratic Caetano regime in 1974, that ever went on to immediately dismantle their empire and allow the conquered to go free.

The politics of the armed coalition coming together and finally driving Mengistu out may well have been the moment for this change in attitude to begin, not least because the Meles’ TPLF was by far the militarily dominant faction of the alliance.

To sum up Meles Zenawi: he evolved into what many ‘revolutionaries” became after the Cold War era: a technocratic autocrat placing his hopes in a neo-liberal approach to solving the country’s deep economic problems through a “developmentalist” strategy. He quite literally burned himself out hoping that, by bringing rapid infrastructural development, he could perhaps outpace the historical political claims, and thus render them redundant.

This essentially meant a new form of what Mengistu and Selassie had done before him: overlook people’s ancestral claims to this or that, and simply see the whole landmass as a site for “development” projects, no matter who they may displace or inconvenience.

But “any notion of ‘progress’ or ‘modernization’ that does not start from a peoples’ culture is tantamount to genocide.” the late Professor Dan Nabudere warned us.

Meles Zenawi sought to hold on to the very imperial state he had once fought. His unwillingness to fully honour the terms of the broad alliance of all the fighting groups, and instead consolidated his armed group to take factional control of the whole state and set the course for new upheavals. His sudden death became the opening for these issues to spill out into the streets.

His immediate successor, Hailemariam Desalegn, soon found that the kind of extreme state violence that had served Zenawi, and Mengistu before him, and Selassie before them both, no longer worked, forcing Deslaegn to resign in failure.

Abiy Ahmed must finally deal with these realities. Ultimately, any attempt to do politics based on the imperatives of the Menelik-created state was, and is, going to come up against the fact that this state actually started life as an empire. If the history of Ethiopia has shown one thing, it is that this approach has always provoked rebellions.

Ethiopia, one could say, is back to the pre-war situation it was in just before Mengistu’s coup.

The problem is conceptual; the same one that confronted Selassie and Mengistu: are we running a nation, or a homegrown empire made up of several? 

Mr Abiy Ahmed would be wise not to go down that path.

His challenge is to dismantle the remnants of Meles’ personal military apparatus, genuinely re-orient the country back to its federal constitutional ethos, begin to address the land tenure question, and quickly, before the political grievances – and the economic challenges underlying them – completely boil over.

As the world becomes less secure and with fewer overlords, there will be more and more examples of Africa’s invisible nations asserting themselves to manage control of their resources.

Dismissing them as “ethnic” is simply laying a foundation to justify violence against them.

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Kalundi Serumaga is a social and political commentator based in Kampala.

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Uganda Elections 2021: Neoliberalism as Neocolonialism and the West’s Role in Propping up a Dictator

The last thirty years of Ugandan politics cannot be explained as something that emerges primarily and ultimately from Museveni as a politician and as a “case”. Internalist characterisations of the drivers of social, political and economic transformation have contributed to a concealing of the inter-linkages of the international matrix of power structures and capital accumulation.

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Uganda Elections 2021: Neoliberalism as Neocolonialism and the West’s Role in Propping up Dictators
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The 2021 presidential and parliamentary elections in Uganda were the subject of intense public debate and widely covered in the local and international media. The discussions and reports were dominated by a number of major themes: the imprisonment of opposition presidential candidates and members of their support teams; disappearances and killings; the use of tear gas and live bullets by state agencies to “contain” the politically engaged public; state attacks on journalists and NGOs, and control of social media spaces; the role of state agencies such as the police, the army and the electoral commission in helping the incumbent, Yoweri Kaguta Museveni—Uganda’s President of over 30 years—secure another contested victory at the ballot box; the electoral influence of ‘”foreigners” who cooperate with opposition politicians and NGOs to “destabilise” the country, support domestic terrorism, advance the homosexuality agenda, etc.; and, of course, the prospects of election rigging and subsequent protest, violence and uprising.

Days before the elections on January 14th, key partners of the Ugandan government such as the United Nations, the United States and the European Union (as well as various domestic and global organisations) expressed concerns regarding the heavy-handedness of the state and the human rights violations committed in the run-up to the election and appealed to the Ugandan authorities to respect human rights, ensure electoral fairness, and investigate the alleged cases of state brutality. The elections indeed exacerbated pre-existing trends in the country towards state authoritarianism, the militarisation of society and repression of political dissent. This of course raises a core question: what is the causal and political implication of these influential global actors, including the international financial institutions and many other development agencies, in this state of affairs, including the violence of the Ugandan state? And what can we conclude from the election dynamics about the state of the liberal project—including promoting democracy—in Uganda?

First, an observation about the prevailing debate. To date a significant part of the commentaries regarding the election and its characteristics focuses on Museveni and regards his ambitions for life presidency as a major if not the key reason for the election crisis and the mayhem to which the media has devoted numerous pages and hours of reporting, roundtable discussions and expert interviews. No matter how analytically useful this focus might be, disproportionate attention is, in our view, paid to the role of Museveni and his agency as the explanans of the key characteristics of the developments in the country since 1986 when Museveni took power after years of armed struggle against the government of the day.

It is against this background that we argue here (as we did in the introduction and conclusion to a collection about neoliberal Uganda we recently edited) that Museveni is not an explanans but rather an explanandum, and this calls for an analysis of national and transnational class alliances and global, national and local neoliberal forces. The last thirty years of Ugandan politics cannot be explained as something that emerges primarily and ultimately from Museveni as a politician and as a “case”. Internalist characterisations of the drivers of social, political and economic transformation have contributed to a concealing of the inter-linkages of the international matrix of power structures and capital accumulation. Instead, part of Museveni’s hegemony has been reinforced by “foreign” influences and interests that have fuelled the neoliberal project co-existing with endogenous social and power structures.

Here, we place the Ugandan elections in the context of a wider process of post-1986 social transformation: the locking in of neoliberal capitalism in the country and the social engineering of Uganda as a market society. This process implicates not just Museveni and his inner circle but a far wider and more illustrious range of actors with their respective agendas, including, actors like the UN, the EU and the US, long-term core partners of the Museveni government and the liberal project in the country.

This dimension of the election phenomenon is often underestimated in comments by academics and commentators. Such analyses also typically spare the donor community when they explore the drivers of the state violence and suppression of the past months. In other words, such accounts tend to not adequately analyse the implication of these foreign actors in the making of a violent election, state and presidency, and in the current state of Ugandan politics generally. Rather, a common position in this genre of writings is that donors are a constraining factor when it comes to state violence, that they help to ensure that the Museveni state does not go “too hard” on its opponents (and on the population more generally). Kristof Titeca and Anna Reuss, for example, write in a piece titled “How Museveni mastered violence to win elections in Uganda”:

“An essential part of the NRM’s . . .  strategies is that they are relentless but rarely too extreme. Museveni has learnt this after seeing the response to more overtly repressive measures. The regime’s relative restraint also avoids overly riling international donors. Given Uganda’s reputation as a beacon of stability and its contributions to regional peacekeeping missions, Western diplomats are typically reluctant to express more than mild criticism of Museveni’s government. They only do so in cases which are big enough to warrant attention from western audiences, such as the anti-gay bill. The arrests of Besigye and Bobi Wine in 2018 similarly surpassed that threshold. As a result of these experiences, the Museveni regime has become a master in using an arsenal of measures which are limited in time and intensity but whose message is clear enough. It exerts continued pressure in a way that makes opposition leaders’ lives difficult but without escalating into major events.”

We do not have space to unpack this position but would question what is said here regarding agency and causality in matters of state violence and repression. Also problematic are the exhortations from commentators such as Rita Abrahamsen and Gerald Bareebe for donors to now reconsider their relation with the NRM government and to let their concerns for human rights violations and for democracy be followed by more decisive actions. A problem with this kind of analysis is that it tends to regard violence as epiphenomenal rather than inscribed in the structural operation of the world capitalist system, and ignores the ways in which violence plays out in the everyday politics in different, often hidden, forms and at different levels (from local to transnational).

Symptomatically, such analyses do not sufficiently take into account that a core phenomenon at play here is imperialism, that these western states that are asked by analysts to learn from their past ‘mistakes’, reconsider their politics, and stand up for human rights, ordinary people, democracy, justice, fairness and peace are imperialist (and highly militaristic) states often in competition for resources, markets and spheres of influence. So, any such political demand made to the US or the EU for example is a demand made to empires, to the leading military and political-economic powers in the world.

All this requires an analytical acknowledgement of the politics (including violence) of empire, imperialism, imperialist states, and global capitalism, and of the deeper structures of economic and political interests (beyond the often referred to ‘security’ or ‘stability’) in the day-to-day operations of ‘the system’. The call to action made to western powers in this newly declared “test case” is thus politically disingenuous (and analytically questionable), especially in the light of the fact that international financial and development agencies, western governments and bilateral donors have been active players in forging transnational class alliances and shaping the contours of the emerging state-donors-capital political complex in Uganda in the last three decades.

Our position in this ongoing debate about donors in Uganda and Africa more generally is instead more in line with analysts such as Kalundi Serumaga, Yusuf Serunkuma, Mary Serumaga, Helen Epstein, A.K. Kaiza, Bernard Tabaire, Allan Tacca, Chris Dolan or Adam Branch who have analysed “donors” as enablers of state violence and/or the other “social ills” that often get mentioned in national and international commentaries on Museveni’s Uganda. Their respective pieces on the Ugandan government and state take into account the “larger picture” of (post-)colonialism, imperialism and the global political economy. Kalundi Serumaga’s latest big-picture pieces for example are titled as follows: “Murder as  Order”, “Democracy for Some Mere Management for Others” and “Uganda’s Democracy-free Election”; the latter echoing Thandika Mkandawire’s term “choiceless democracies”, coined more than 20 years ago.

We move on then in our own analysis that derives from our research in Uganda, and our work as editors of a recent collective analysis titled Uganda: The Dynamics of Neoliberal Transformation. To start with, contemporary Uganda is analytically one of the most telling cases of the complex entanglements between neoliberal capitalism, the democratisation agenda and imperialism in Africa. The country is one of the planet’s most globally propped up, most invested in and symbolically one of the most important cases of global liberalism and liberal interventionism and the respective social engineering. Globally praised as an African success story and heavily backed by international financial institutions, development agencies and bilateral donors, the country has become the exemplar of economic and political reform for those who espouse a neoliberal model of development.

The neoliberal policies and the resulting restructuring of the country have been accompanied by narratives of progress, prosperity, and modernisation and have been justified in the name of development. Uganda is a major exemplar of the dominant if dubious trope of “Africa Rising”, of liberation-movements-in-government, of liberal democracy in Africa, of Bill Clinton’s “new generation of African leaders” (also called the “new breed”), of aid and development, and of neoliberal capitalism in Africa, i.e. the comprehensive (yet contested) neoliberal transformation of the economic, political, social, ecological and cultural structures in a post-colonial, aid-dependent, under-developed, agrarian country in a geopolitically important region of the world.

Thus, when Kampala goes up in flames—as it did a few weeks in November 2019 when protests broke out on the streets after the imprisonment of by far the most popular opposition presidential candidate, Robert Kyagulanyi Ssentamu, aka Bobi Wine (his stage name)—a model, an exemplar, burns. In this incident, dozens of people lost their lives when state agencies quelled what the president later called plans by the opposition to organise a Libya-style “insurrection’”. “Pacification” (in this case of Kampala) is back (or rather remains) on the agenda, with Maj. Gen. Paul Okech—who has gained extensive experience in managing urban conflict in Somalia’s capital Mogadishu (thus nicknamed “the Lion of Mogadishu”)—newly appointed to the position of Deputy Inspector General of Police.

The country is one of the planet’s most globally propped up, most invested in and symbolically one of the most important cases of global liberalism and liberal interventionism

Uganda’s 2021 elections were hence another showdown in a country that is often displayed by the establishment, both global and local, as a showcase for the project of neoliberal social reordering. In this electoral campaign, state violence and repression of dissent, then, did not signal the failure but rather the very operations and realities on the ground of the model of authoritarian neoliberalism: using state power and coercion to establish functioning markets and advance the core political-economic interests and preferred social order of the ruling actors. The encounter of state coercion and authoritarian forms of rule with the ideas of free markets (and private enterprise) is not accidental in liberal economic theory. As one of the pioneers of (neo)liberalism, Friedrich von Hayek, once argued: “Personally I prefer a liberal dictator to democratic government lacking liberalism.” In this sense, human, civic and other political rights in today’s Uganda (as elsewhere in the world) are being sacrificed on the altar of neoliberalisation.

Neoliberalisation refers to the process of systematic and substantial transformation of the Ugandan state, economy, and culture into a “market society”, i.e. a society characterised by marketisation of social relations, a general empowerment and hegemony of capital (especially of large private corporations), and the corresponding restructuring of people’s subjectivities, relationships and everyday practices so as to make all realms of society operate market-like. Neoliberalism—as a project, discourse and ideology—is at its core about creating such a fully-fledged market society, which operates above all in the interest of capital by conflating it with the public interest.

To follow the dynamics in pre-election Uganda then means to observe and come to terms with the character and impact of this restructuring and with the actual operations of this market society, and relatedly, the operations of global capitalism/political economy, the dynamics of Western and Eastern imperialism, the interactions of local and national power structures and the dynamics with international political-economic structures and patterns, and the inherently conflictual and contradictory processes of capitalist societal transformation including class formation, consolidation and struggle.

It means to come to terms with the evolving capitalist social order in all its complexity, tension, and socially regressive, unsustainable and harmful character. And it means to witness the intense discourses, commentaries, spins and silences of the ruling classes and key members of the “international community” that include some of the most powerful international organisations and agencies in the development industry (World Bank, IMF, USAID, and so on).

The election is thus an exemplar (or “thriller”, “showdown”) par excellence of international politics, global political economy, and international development, all at the same time. Crucially, the election campaign narratives of government success and failure, of Museveni as a dictator vs. visionary, of a country that has progressed from 1986 and is on the road to prosperity for all vs a country that is in deep crisis and back to “square one” politically is not new at all and nor is the state violence. Instead, these bifurcated discourses and the state violence are long-standing key features of the making and operation of neoliberal Uganda.

The events of the run up to the 2021 elections have questioned and destabilised the decades-long ideational and discursive hegemony of powerful international and national reform designers, implementers and supporters about Uganda as a success story. This hegemony—or cognitive intervention and restriction of the powerful—has produced and defended a severe ideological and analytical containment and impoverishment concerning key societal themes. We thus critique and challenge what Ngugi Wa Thiong’o calls, with reference to European colonialism in Africa, the mental domination we witness surrounding Uganda-as-a-case; a domination that is so characteristic of the neoliberal social order across the contemporary “free world”: “Economic and political control can never be complete or effective without mental control.” 

The encounter of state coercion and authoritarian forms of rule with the ideas of free markets (and private enterprise) is not accidental in liberal economic theory

As thinkers from Luxemburg to Orwell noted, contesting the “truth” of the ruling classes, pronouncing what is going on and offering alternatives to establishment accounts of “reality” (and thereby “history”), is a crucial political act. In 2020 pre-election and COVID Uganda, donors/UN/aid agencies stood as close to government as one can imagine, running plenty of joint report-launching, forward-planning and partnership-announcing events. Contesting the existing dominant set of data, interpretations, languages, policy demands and actor alliances—especially when the establishment chatter, celebration and cheers is at its loudest—is thus most paramount. So, let us delve deeper…

As we explain in the introduction to our edited collection, the dynamics of transformation in neoliberal Uganda are interpreted through two diverging, hard–to-reconcile narratives which persist in global and national debates alike. The first narrative frames Uganda as a success story and a development/reform model for international development agencies such as the World Bank (which has a parallel in a major part of the country’s academic scholarship that for decades was characterised by a celebratory tone about the country’s overall development path). This is the narrative of a Uganda emerging from years-long civil war in the late 1980s, and within a few years becoming an international success story.

This “New Uganda” narrative praises the post-1986 policy reforms which have stimulated economic growth, with sustained GDP growth and foreign direct investment attraction matched by steady progress in poverty reduction and gender empowerment. Central to this narrative is the leadership of a president who is a progressive moderniser, acting with the interest of the nation at heart. In short, Uganda has never been better. Such accounts parade “impressive”, “successful”, and “admirable” achievements in social, political and economic spheres. Very powerful actors promote this narrative year in, year out: from the World Bank, the IMF and the country’s various international and bilateral donors, to influential international and domestic scholars and analysts, and the Ugandan government and establishment.

The same actors have produced a plethora of official statistics and econometric studies that supposedly provide evidence of this stated steady progress. A prime example of this celebratory narrative about the new Uganda as an astonishing exemplar of reform success is the Kampala speech of the IMF Managing Director, Christine Lagarde, in January 2017, “Becoming the Champion: Uganda’s Development Challenge”, which states:

“This gathering provides an opportunity to congratulate Uganda for its impressive economic achievements and to speak about the possibilities of the future. I do not normally begin my speeches with statistics, but today will be an exception. That is because the numbers tell us a great deal: Uganda has experienced a threefold increase in per capita GDP over the past generation. And you have reduced extreme poverty to one-third of the population. This made Uganda one of the countries that has more than achieved the United Nations Millennium Development Goal of halving poverty by 2015. This is an African success story.” (Lagarde 2017, emphasis in original.)

Couched in orthodox neoliberal language, the “New Uganda” narrative pushed by the IMF is consistent with its “Africa rising” narrative of economic optimism, which mirrors the  enthusiastic rhetoric of the African Renaissance narrative led by former South African president Thabo Mbeki in the early 2000s. Accelerated economic development spurred a renewed optimism among economists who predicted a luminous 21st century for African economies. The argument is that China’s and India’s demands for African raw materials, following the extraction-centric export-oriented route that raised GDP levels in the 2000s represents the best option for Africa to grow wealthy.

Lagarde made her visit just months after the highly controversial 2016 political elections that were—just like the 2020/21 version—accompanied by repression against sections of the opposition and critics of the government (as well as accusations of substantial and outright vote rigging). The outcome of the 2016 elections further deepened the government’s legitimacy crisis (which has intensified ever since). Nevertheless, donors remained strong advocates of the project of ultra-capitalist Uganda and its principle implementing agency, the government. The 2018 Labour Day speech of the UN Resident Coordinator in Uganda, Rosa Malango, is another exemplar here. As the speech, titled “Revitalize local government system to build public spirit for service”, outlines: “Uganda is widely recognized for producing a wide range of excellent policies on social, economic and development issues”

And indeed, while there is data and analyses available that support some of the mainstream narratives of a successful (and socially beneficial) post-1986 transformation, there is also plenty of evidence of a prolonged and multifaceted situation of crisis generated by a particular version of severe capitalist restructuring, or neoliberal reforms, of a crisis that severely questions the success narrative. This leads us to discuss the second narrative, “Uganda in crisis”, which has been articulated by “people on the street”, sections of the political opposition, and some segments of the media and non-governmental organisations. This narrative captures the extent of multi-faceted political, social, cultural and economic crises due to the prevalence of a patrimonial mode of rule supported by the president’s ruling group. This formation uses state power to advance private economic interests and functions through a far-reaching business and political network, which includes the President’s extended family, political allies and foreign investors.

To denounce the self-seeking attitude prevalent in the ruling party, the National Resistance Movement (NRM), Ugandan street politics have mockingly renamed it the “National Robbery Movement”. The state has come to be associated with increasing political repression, a decline in public services and generalised economic insecurity. Public debates refer to “mafias”, a “mafia state”, a “vampire state”, a country occupied, controlled and exploited by a tiny “clique” of powerful domestic actors and their foreign allies. Uganda has experienced recurring food shortages and chronic indebtedness, and an explosive social crisis characterised by increased inequality, widespread violence and increased criminality.

The idiosyncrasies between these two competing discourses—which are a reflection of different social constituencies, political complexes and economic interests—were already manifest before the beginning of the 2021 election campaign with a mix of economic depression, systemic corruption, widening inequalities and poverty going hand-in-hand with growing state repression of dissenting voices in the midst of mushrooming, diverse and localised social struggles.

Two events signify these emerging sets of contradictions. First, the detention and torture in August 2018 of the popular “ghetto” musician-turned-politician Bobi Wine, the NUP (National Unity Platform) presidential candidate and main opponent to the US-backed military rule of Museveni, embodying in the eye of a significant section of the public opinion the aspirations and imaginaries of the masses of youthful voters aiming to dethrone the dictator and, second, the imprisonment of Museveni’s vocal critic, feminist scholar and activist Stella Nyanzi, in the same year. Symbolically speaking, they represent respectively two cases of repression of political alternatives and intellectuals, pointing to the increasingly authoritarian character of Museveni’s regime which, finding itself under a serious crisis of legitimacy, responds with the major weapon it masters, the inherited violence of the colonial state.

Challenged by the explosion of a series of popular mobilisations and protests, and inundated by public controversies (such as those around the constitutional revision of the presidential mandate, the alleged involvement of the president and his foreign minister Sam Kutesa in a case of international corruption with Chinese businessman Chi Ping Patrick Ho, who reportedly gave them a US$1million bribe in an attempt to gain oil concessions on behalf of the giant Chinese company, CEFC Energy Company Limited) the Ugandan state has responded with a growing militarisation of its politics by framing existing political formations as a threat to national security and the country’s road to progress.

This “securitisation” of the debate about the political future of the country has allowed the state to shift the terrain of struggle from questions of social justice, emancipation, and the construction of political alternatives towards issues of patriotism, national security and sovereignty, and political stability.

Notably, the increasing cases of kidnappings, disappearances of civilians and extra-judicial killings, and the systematic repression of the mobilisation and organisation campaigns of other political forces, have mostly been condoned by Western governments, bilateral donors and international financial institutions, pointing to the selective use of the doctrine of democracy and human rights and its use as an imperial weapon against non-compliant countries in the Global South.

The use of political violence in 2020/21 is thus not epiphenomenal, nor is it solely linked to the political turbulence caused by the election campaign. It is rather that, without it, the very existence of the regime would be jeopardised. Its constant deployment, in a mix of coercion and consent, is meant to secure the maintenance and reproduction of the social block in power. It is the same violence the regime unleashed against recalcitrant rural populations resisting state-orchestrated land enclosures and other contentious state-led donor-funded development projects such as, for example, the agro-industrial sugar complex in Amuru district in the Acholi region. The project has for years been supported by the government but has been met with prolonged opposition from local dwellers who perceive it as a threat to their land-based livelihoods.

The state has come to be associated with increasing political repression, a decline in public services and generalised economic insecurity

Against this wider background, and in order to facilitate debate about the causes of the election violence and other key election characteristics, we offer some analytical points in the remainder of this text which help us to map and interpret the key symptoms of Uganda’s neoliberal authoritarianism. These short 10 points emerged from our collective analysis of the character of neoliberal Uganda and are the condensation of the data and findings of the 19 substantial chapters written by over 20 scholars from across disciplines. They outline key features of the neoliberalisation of Uganda over the last three decades. The analysis helps to understand and conceptualise the state violence and bias in the run-up to the election not as outlier, not as failure of government to do x, y, z, but as the-model-in-operation of how power is reproduced and political-economic agendas and interests defended and advanced by the ruling classes (and their foreign backers) in neoliberal-capitalist societies.

At its most fundamental, day-to-day politics—election mode or not—is about power, i.e. the use (not abuse!) of power. Politics in semi-liberal capitalist settings is no exception to that rule. The question then is what the election violence tells us about power structures, relations and dynamics and the prevailing political-economic interests and priorities. It is here where most human rights-based analyses fall short. With our 10-point characteristics, we want to intensify the debate about the elections along three lines in particular: capitalism; aid and development; foreign control and influence and the respective power alliances between foreign and domestic actors (i.e. the role of foreign, particularly western/western-dominated actors, and their domestic partners/establishment actors).

First, neoliberal restructuring emerges as an all-encompassing process. Neoliberalisation is a hetero-directed process, one that diffuses from multiple poles of power, discourse, interest and wealth. As such, it is not simply exogenous to, or imposed on Uganda. Rather it is articulated with—and metabolised within—society and politics, at many interconnected levels.

Second, neoliberalisation was a joint exercise of power by way of an alliance of resourceful foreign and domestic actors, and across various power dimensions. The power alliance—with members including, among others, donors, international organisations (IOs), large firms and government—rolled out its agenda of reform in various ways over vulnerable populations and cemented a particular architecture of structural (of capital for example) and behavioural power and institutionalised and bureaucratised forms of discipline in the state and the economy. Domestic elites often helped advance, rather than stand against the interests of foreign economic actors.

Third, economic growth has become the centre of gravity of political activity and the key indicator of political success at the expense of other societal considerations including social justice, emancipation, equality, political and civic freedoms and human rights. The maximisation of private profits imposed itself as the dominant principle that informed policy-making. Some time back, in a tweet following a meeting with EU diplomats, Museveni wrote: “It’s okay to talk of human and other rights but growth of the economy should be the first right to emphasize”.

Fourth, Uganda is a striking example of authoritarian neoliberalism, in which coercive state practices and administrative and judicial state apparatuses contain oppositional forces, limiting the challenge to neoliberal policies. Sector restructuring through privatisations and liberalisations was often executed in a rushed and uncompromising way, with ample use of authoritarianism and state violence. Often, there was little concern for environmental and economic sustainability in policy-making, and the magnitude of the harmful repercussions of restructuring for large sections of the population. In this context, the state capitalised on foreign donors and investors, allied with particular domestic societal groups and established its hegemony by promoting the image of a government led by a benevolent, well-meaning, trustworthy power, and generally moralised the neoliberal project. IFIs and other foreign actors of the international development sector directly and indirectly enabled the build-up of a powerful and oppressive security apparatus, and more generally, the state’s coercive and violent practices of power, over many years.

Challenged by the explosion of a series of popular mobilisations and protests, the Ugandan state has responded with a growing militarisation of its politics

There are various ways in which these actors are implicated, directly and indirectly, in the growth of corruption, authoritarianism and militarisation, and in a more explicit turn towards crony/rentier capitalism. The oppression of sections of the population by the state is thus in-fact an oppression of the historical state-donors-capital bloc, i.e. the particular “congruence of material interests, institutions and ideologies, or broadly, an alliance of different class forces politically organised around a set of hegemonic ideas that gave strategic direction and coherence to its constitutive elements” (Gill 2002: 58). In the case of Uganda, the formation of this power bloc developed through a series of national and transnational political networks and discourses which converged around a certain vision and form of organisation of society.

This bloc also put in place and advanced a particular neoliberal capitalist form of structural violence. Violence has been an intrinsic component of the neoliberal project, rather than its antithesis. Like in other neoliberal societies, the escalation of violence has taken multidimensional forms—military, disciplinary, economic, political, cultural, verbal. State policies (especially those that hit the poor) have unleashed systemic violence and corresponding widespread and cruel social harm. Territorial militarisation and securitisation is one of these forms of neoliberal violence. The militarisation of whole villages and districts to curb dissent and protest—for instance, against large-scale land acquisitions and related displacing dynamics—has been a constant feature of post-1986 Uganda. The emerging oil and mining sectors are also driving this agenda further.

Fifth, there exist notable similarities and continuities between the neoliberal and colonial development projects, especially with regard to access and control of key natural resources and the accelerating extractive logic of capitalism. Uganda is undergoing a deep structural transformation, not so much into the much coveted “middle income country” that populates the imaginary of many, but rather into an extractive and authoritarian enclave where foreign interests are tackling land, water, oil, forestry and conservation areas as sinks for resource extraction. A colonial matrix of dispossession and domination persists in the neoliberal period through structures of power that link state-corporate actors, comprador bourgeois classes and racialised social groups and classes within states reproducing neo-colonial structures of inequality and projects of subjugation through development projects, market violence, land theft, looting of natural resources, exploitation and cultural assault.

Neoliberalisation is a hetero-directed process, one that diffuses from multiple poles of power, discourse, interest and wealth

Sixth, neoliberalisation has advanced inequalities between classes and exacerbated social injustice. Many neoliberal interventions had a pro-powerful—rather than a pro-poor character. Systemic elite bias and elite capture of development projects turned these into tools to advance the process of class formation, consolidating the power of dominant classes. Neoliberalism increased the power of a range of domestic actors, especially but not only elite actors. Major foreign economic actors benefited in significant ways. The presence of foreign capital was backed by various ideological devices, including “foreigners as investors” and “business interest equals public interest” ideologies. Over the years, Museveni’s rhetoric has been consistent and insistent on the role of foreign investors in his vision for the country. Symptomatic of neoliberal Uganda is an acceleration of “jobless” economic growth, whereby much of the investment take place in the extractive and financial sectors, with little or no linkages to local economies, and with wealth captured by a plethora of actors with little societal redistribution. As such, the making of the new market society has gone hand in hand with increasing resource inequalities, as uneven access to natural resources paved the way for capital accumulation in the hands of a few. The escalation of inequality and class divisions is inherently linked to neoliberal restructuring.

Seventh, neoliberal policies have produced socially regressive effects for the most vulnerable parts of the population. The financial demands and pressures on the subaltern classes to just survive and recover from ill-health are extraordinary. Health and education reforms resulted in a social crisis for significant sections of the poor, threatening their life chances and advancing inequality and class divisions. Further, the multiple and interacting crises produced by neoliberal restructuring are often addressed by more neoliberal reform which brings rather little advancement. The version of neoliberalism observed in Uganda is in key aspects arguably more extreme, crass and unequal than elsewhere. Neoliberal reason has become embedded in society and it is by now a habit of thought, a cognitive frame that shapes the way people see themselves, others, and the social world, and consequently the ways in which they act in that context.

Eighth, neoliberal discourses—from good governance to empowerment—provided a positive, sanitising spin to the brutal exercise of power and restructuring that has locked-in a capitalist social order and its societal hierarchy based on increased inequality and a permanent social crisis. Neoliberal ideology provided a message of win-win, progressive change, hope and optimism, a “human” face, a technical, natural flavour to a process that produced substantial regressions and crises. This resulted in the depoliticisation and sterilisation of debates about development and change.

Donor-led development narratives and ideologies systematically concealed the class interests behind the neoliberal reforms. Narratives of liberalisation, free markets, empowerment and competition among free individuals thus tended to conceal the substantial concentration of wealth, monopolistic tendencies and resulting profit levels, and the coercive and conflictive character of the neoliberal economy. Reform programmes that promised a better governed, efficient, orderly, clean, accountable, humane, pro-people polity and economy, i.e. a harmonious social order, thereby engendered a society shaped (and scarred) by heightened violence, criminality, opaqueness, conflict, and social harm.

Neoliberal reason has become embedded in society and it is by now a habit of thought, a cognitive frame that shapes the way people see themselves

Ninth, the process of neoliberalising Uganda has occurred in continuity with key aspects of the colonial project, substantially contested on the ground by those who have most suffered its nefarious social, political and ecological implications. Protests have taken different forms and contributed to shaping important alliances with other social constituents which carved up a new political space by challenging the implementation of neoliberal development projects. A myriad of social struggles is taking place around key areas of societal transformation. Social media has become a protest platform which the state constantly strives to restrict in order to control dissent and criticism of state action. These dynamics have at times helped opposition parties to win seats, and forced the state to respond by alternating its iron hand – political violence – with its soft hand – consent seeking.

Tenth, the exclusion, inequality, violence, precarity and crises that large sections of the subaltern classes face are thus not caused by a “malfunctioning” market, or a “deviated” capitalist trajectory. Rather, the opposite is true: it is precisely the functioning of neoliberal restructuring and institutions that causes widespread social, political and economic crises. The Ugandan situation is part and parcel of institutionalised crass capitalism globaxlly. There is no way out of these crises unless the key pillars of neoliberal order are questioned, and inroads towards a significant de-neoliberalisation of the country are made. We do not see this happening in the near future, as the neoliberal restructuring is now well embedded, i.e. Ugandans face an “instituted neoliberalism” (McMichael 2017: 336). This institutionalised character of neoliberalism applies to the regional and the global levels too, where it produces a wide array of “material and epistemic demands” (ibid) that will push for further restructuring.

To conclude, the mainstream ideology claiming that more private sector development will produce a future that is, as Museveni put it in a tweet in 2017, “easy to handle”, is a fallacy (“If economy grows, costs go down, private investors are attracted and the future becomes easy to handle.”, 10.05.2017). Current in-crisis countries elsewhere, for instance Mexico, were once celebrated success stories of neoliberal restructuring; they are now telling case studies of the open-ended regressive possibilities of this model of society. Uganda, and neoliberal Africa, might well face a further “mexicisation” in some aspects of societal order. The key processes and practices underpinning social transformations in the country are not unique to Uganda. Several African countries have in many ways undertaken similar paths of political, social, economic, and cultural transformation. Yet the spectacular changes that have occurred in Uganda in the last thirty years reveal the potential trajectories of transformation upon which other African countries could embark in the near future (or that are already underway). The prevalence of extractive and enclave economies, the hegemony of the state-donors-capital block, and the expanding marketisation of society, represent the common denominator for many African countries. As all this unfolds, watch out for the crisis-related spin, explanations, narratives and discourses of the powerful, particularly how the problems and contradictions of capitalist social order and rule are theorised, discussed, and explained (away). This task of explaining the ‘unexplainable’ – to (re-)construct for example explanations concerning state violence, to express shock and concern about violence while at the same time advancing or hiding it – can be regarded as part of what Kalundi Serumaga termed the “common boss problem”. The conflicting and changing (and much debated) statements in the last days of the EU and other western actors about the quality of the elections (and EU statements about respective misreporting) give a glimpse into the ‘dilemmas’ and ‘difficulties’ of executing this task.

Social media has become a protest platform which the state constantly strives to restrict in order to control dissent and criticism of state action

Finally then, whatever the spins of the powerful, the neoliberal hegemonic development model in Uganda, which has produced widening inequalities, growing concentration of control of resources, rising levels of poverty and widespread marginalization, has not gone uncontested. Despite elections having taken place in the midst of state sponsored violence, they have been characterised by tremendously high levels of popular mobilisation and political participation. Indeed, the growing political ferment in the country, which precedes the electoral period, is the result of the growing political support gained by Bobi Wine, ‘ghetto’ musician-turned-politician, founder of People’s Power movement and leading figure of the political scenario in the country. Embodying the aspirations of millions of disenfranchised youth (the overwhelming majority of Ugandans are under 25 years), Wine has been able to mobilize masses across the country, reawakening the political imagination, forging alliance with other forces in the opposition, and becoming a major threat to the existence of the regime.

In this sense, the acute violence we have witnessed in coincidence with elections is a response to a broader set of social mobilisations which have mounted a series of political challenge to neoliberal authoritarianism. In this short piece: “The West helped cripple Ugandan democracy”, Wine points to the long-term involvement of external forces in Ugandan’s political affairs, and the role of donors and western governments in hindering the overthrow of the neoliberal order. He highlights the antagonism between authoritarian neoliberalism and the free political agency of millions of Ugandans. His political challenge is thus arguably not only against the oppression of the Museveni government but against key aspects of the very operation of imperialism and global capitalism (and the continuation of neoliberalism in the country). In these moments of political contestation and upheavals Amiclar Cabral’s revolutionary teaching, ‘tell no lies, claim no easy victories” becomes actual. Yesterday, as today, it is paramount to uncover the causes of people’s misery, in order to build a social order that can truly serve, advance and protect people’s lives and aspirations.

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Africa’s Fourth Industrial Revolution Must be STEAM-Driven

African policy makers create a Chinese wall between STEM and the humanities and social sciences. What is needed is STEAM—science, technology, engineering, arts, and mathematics.

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Africa’s Fourth Industrial Revolution Must be STEAM-Driven
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It is widely agreed that science, technology, and innovation are indispensable for African development. Universities are generally expected to play a critical role in the development of national and regional STI capabilities. The challenge is in the meaning of these axiomatic assumptions and aspirations, the modalities of synergising them into a virtuous cycle of continuous reinforcement to create knowledge, capacities, opportunities, and mentalities for innovative, integrated, inclusive and sustainable economies, societies, and polities.

STI is integral to Africa’s enduring drive for self-determination, development, and democratisation, for the continent’s transformation, and the restructuring and reimagining of its engagement with the world. Ultimately, it represents a search for African modernities in a world dominated by “instrumental reason” and characterised by the growing importance of “knowledge economies” and “knowledge societies”. It is a project that poses challenges that are simultaneously political and philosophical, concrete and conceptual, about the social and structural conditions and imperatives of Africa’s development in a world that rewards scientific and technological progress and punishes those lagging behind.

Knowledge including science and its applied products—technology—is driven and conditioned by powerful epistemic, economic, political and historical forces. Science is as much a scholarly venture spawned by intellectual curiosities and opportunities, as it is a social enterprise sustained by ideological interests, institutional dynamics, and the demands of society for solutions to pressing challenges and the market for profitable products and services. Science and scholarship thrive as much through the motivations, inspirations, and aspirations of the practitioners themselves as it requires structured support provided by universities, governments, businesses and other actors.

STI operates under national and transnational epistemological and regulatory regimes that transcend internal disciplinary proclivities and the agency and ambitions of their experts. The pressures and opportunities for strengthening STI in Africa have risen since 2000 as prospects for economic growth, political liberalisation, and struggles for social inclusion have accelerated, and as the imperatives of the Fourth Industrial Revolution have become more evident. COVID-19 has cast its own frightful demands for scientific and innovative mitigations.

Across the continent there has been a proliferation of national, regional, and continental STI policies and plans. African governments and universities are more aware, and even seem more committed than ever, of the need for their countries and institutions to invest and become producers of scientific knowledges and not just consumers of technological products. While science and technology are of course not a panacea for all the challenges of human and social development, and by themselves will not solve Africa’s stubborn legacies of underdevelopment, without them, those legacies cannot be overcome.

My presentation is divided into five parts. First, I will briefly discuss the conundrum of development as part of my argument that universities are essential for STI. Second, I will explore Africa’s standing in the global STI landscape. Third, I will examine various efforts undertaken by African states to engineer the development of STI. Fourth, I will suggest the ways in which universities can facilitate Africa’s drive for STI. Finally, I will draw some lessons for Malawi.

The development conundrum

Development remains an enigma despite massive intellectual and financial investments by the huge development industry that emerged after World War II. Governments and international and intergovernmental institutions, often supported by research in universities, have sought to decipher and deliver development. Academics in various fields especially in the social sciences and humanities have tried to answer some of these questions: Why do some nations develop and others remain underdeveloped? Why are some nations wealthy and others poor? Why do some nations grow and others stagnate?

In the days of unabashed Eurocentric conceit, race and ethnicity were put forward as explanations, that some races and ethnic groups were endowed with the innate attributes for civilisation. You still hear these naturalistic fallacies even among Africans, in which some ethnic groups are deemed superior in intellect and entrepreneurship. As Eurocentric and ethnocentric rationales lost currency, the determinisms of geography, culture, and history rose to prominence.

According to the geographical hypothesis, a country’s development is determined by its environment, terrain, and natural resources. Its advocates point to the fact that many poor countries are in the tropics and rich ones in the temperate regions. The cultural thesis posits that development emanates from a society’s cultural norms, social conventions, and even religious beliefs. There is the famous thesis that attributes the development of the Anglo-Saxon countries to the Protestant work ethic, and some attribute the rise of Southeast Asian countries to Confucianism. The historicist perspective comes in many guises: some applaud the genius of European civilisation for the West’s wealth, while others blame the poverty in the global South on European colonialism and imperialism.

Undoubtedly, geography, culture, and history affect the processes and patterns of development. But they only offer partial explanations at best. Abundance of natural resources doesn’t guarantee sustainable development. In fact, it may be a curse as it fosters the growth of corrupt rentier states and extractive economies that are structurally anti-development. The rapid growth of some tropical countries such as Singapore in Asia and Botswana in Africa undermines geographical determinism. Culture is equally insufficient as an explanation. The same Confucianism held as the secret to Southeast Asia’s recent economic miracle, was blamed for the region’s grinding poverty decades ago. History is a more compelling explanation. But formerly colonised countries have had different trajectories of development, even those colonised by the same imperial power. Moreover, the historic shift of global power from the West to Asia punctures the narrative of eternal Euroamerican superiority.

Some put analytical faith in vague and ideological notions of market freedom or democracy as the driver of growth and development. But the spectacular rise of a politically authoritarian China rebuts such arguments. Other scholars provide an assortment of explanations focusing on the levels of conflict and stability, patterns of corruption and investment, the presence of capable and committed leadership, and a nation’s geopolitical affiliation to hegemonic powers.

More sophisticated and compelling analyses show that historically, development prospects (not just rates of economic growth) have depended on the emergence and expansion of inclusive economic, political, and social institutions. Countries with extractive and weak institutions have not fared as well in achieving sustained growth and development. To the quality of institutions, I would add two other powerful factors: the quality of human capital and the quality of the social capital of trust. There is a growing body of research that shows a positive correlation between social trust and economic development, including the accumulation of physical capital, total factor productivity, income, and human capital formation and effectiveness.

Since the first Industrial Revolution in the mid-eighteenth century, to the unfolding Fourth Industrial Revolution, all the subsequent revolutions have been dependent on the indestructible link between intellectual inquiry, research, and innovation. This is the hallowed province of the university as society’s premier knowledge producing institution. The university is also the primary engine for producing high quality and innovative human capital. There are of course strong connections between university education and the production and reproduction of social capital, and intriguing linkages between university learning and the generation of civic attitudes and engagement. At best, university education goes beyond the provision of vocational, technical, and occupational training. It imparts flexible and lifelong values, skills, and competencies

Africa in the global STI landscape 

The modern world is unimaginable without science, technology and the innumerable innovations that have revolutionised all aspects of socioeconomic life, politics and international relations, transport and communication, and the formation and performance of identities. Ever since the industrial revolution in the 19th century, the links between science and technology have become tighter — there has hardly been any significant technological advancement since the beginning of the 20th century that has not been the byproduct of scientific research. The Fourth Industrial Revolution is STI on steroids.

The relationship between science and technology is of course not unilinear; there are multiple feedback loops between the two and between them and markets and national economic and social wellbeing. Investment in research and development has become an increasingly critical factor and measure of national competitiveness in a globalised economy compressed and interconnected by informational and communication technologies.

Four key trends are evident in the global knowledge economy. First, a global reshuffling in scientific production is taking place. Asia, led by China, has or is poised to overtake Europe and North America in several key STI indicators such as research and development expenditures, scholarly publications, number and proportion of researchers, and patents. Second, research has become increasingly internationalised, which is evident in the exponential growth of collaborative research, citations to international work, and international co-authorship. Third, the landscape of research and development (R&D) funding is changing as new players enter the scene. In addition to governments, investments by business firms, philanthropic foundations, and intergovernmental agencies have risen. Finally, the growth of digital technologies has accelerated international collaborations and provided developing countries with almost unprecedented technological leapfrogging opportunities.

The exponential ascent of Asia in STI indicators reflects and reinforces that continent’s repositioning as the world’s economic powerhouse. In contrast, despite Africa’s much-vaunted rise, the continent remains at the bottom of global research indicators. According to data from UNESCO, in 2013, gross domestic expenditure on R&D as a percentage of GDP in Africa was 0.5 per cent compared to a world average of 1.7 per cent and 2.7 per cent for North America, 1.8 per cent for Europe and 1.6 per cent for Asia. Africa accounted for a mere 1.3 per cent of global R&D. In 2018, global R&D expenditure reached US$1.7 trillion, 80 per cent of which was accounted for by only ten countries. In first place, in terms of R&D expenditure as a share of GDP, was South Korea with 4.3 per cent, and in tenth place was the United States with 2.7 per cent. In terms of total expenditure, the United States led with US$476 billion followed by China with US$371 billion. What was remarkable was that, among the top fifteen R&D spenders, expenditure by the business sector was the most important source, ranging from 56 per cent in the Netherlands to 71.5 per cent in the United States.

In contrast, for the 14 African countries for which UNESCO had data, business as a source of R&D was more than 30 per cent in three countries, led by South Africa with 38.90 per cent, and was less than 1 per cent in four countries. In most countries, the biggest contributor to R&D was either government or the outside world. The former contributed more than 85 per cent in Egypt, Lesotho and Senegal and more than 70 per cent in another two countries, while the latter contributed a third or more in four countries. Higher education and private non-profit organisations hardly featured.

Not surprisingly, other research indicators were no less troubling. In 2013, Africa as a whole accounted for 2.4 per cent of world researchers, compared to 42.8 per cent for Asia, 31 per cent for Europe, 22.2 per cent for the Americas and 1.6 per cent for Oceania. Equally low was the continent’s share of scientific publications, which stood at 2.6 per cent in 2014, compared to 39.5 per cent for Asia, 39.3 per cent for Europe, 32.9 per cent for the Americas and 4.2 per cent for Oceania. The only area in which Africa led was in the proportion of publications with international authors. While the world average was 24.9 per cent, for Africa it was 64.6 per cent, compared to 26.1 per cent for Asia, 42.1 per cent for Europe, 38.2 per cent for the Americas and 55.7 per cent for Oceania. Thus, African scholarship suffers from epistemic extraversion and limited regional integration, much as is the case with our economies.

In terms of patents, according to data from the World Intellectual Property Organization, Africa accounted for 17,000 patent applications in 2018, while Asia led globally with 2,221,800 applications, followed by North America with 663,300, Europe with 362,000, Latin America and the Caribbean with 56,000, and Oceania with 36,200. For industrial design applications, Africa claimed 17,400. Again, Asia led with 914,900, followed by Europe with 301,300, North America with 54,000, Latin America and the Caribbean with 15,300 and Oceania with 9,700. Africa’s share of trademark applications was 245,500, while Asia had 10,000,000, Europe 2,252,200, North America 827,800, Latin America and Caribbean 751,000, and Oceania 199,600. The data for utility model applications (a cheaper and shorter patent-like intellectual property model to protect inventions, which is not available in the US, Canada and Britain) is equally revealing. Africa had 1,050, Asia 2,097,500, Europe 40,773, Latin America and Caribbean 4,391, and Oceania 2,246. In sum, in 2018, Africa accounted for 0.5 per cent, 1.3 per cent, 1.7 per cent, and 0.04 per cent of global applications for patents, industrial design, trademarks and utility models, respectively.

Engineering Africa’s STI futures 

African countries have become increasingly committed to strengthening their STI capacities as a critical driver for sustainable development, democratisation, and self-determination. They understand that STI is essential for the public good, private enterprise development, and building productive capacity for sustainable development. However, translating aspirations into reality is often fraught and frustrated by bureaucratic inertia, lack of political will and resources.

By 2010, more than forty countries had established ministries responsible for national S&T policies. In addition, several regional agencies were created to promote the development and coordination of science and technology (S&T) policies, such as the Network of African Science Academies (NASAC) formed in 2001 that by 2020 had 28 members. It “aspires to make the ‘voice of science’ heard by policy and decision makers within Africa and worldwide”. It seeks to build the capacities of national “academies in Africa to improve their roles as independent expert advisors to governments and to strengthen their national, regional and international functions”. In recent years, NASAC has focused its attention on research and providing policy advice to governments on the implementation of the UN’s Sustainable Development Goals.

At the continental level, several ambitious initiatives were advanced by the major intergovernmental agencies, from the African Union Commission (AUC) to the United Nations Economic Commission for Africa (UNECA). In 2005, Africa’s Science and Technology Consolidated Plan of Action (CPA) was created. The CPA merged the science and technology programmes of the AUC and the New Partnership for Africa’s Development. It sought to promote the integration of Africa into the global economy and the eradication of poverty through five priority clusters: biodiversity, biotechnology and indigenous knowledge; energy, water and desertification; materials sciences, manufacturing, laser and post-harvest technologies; information and communication technologies; and mathematical sciences.

The plan outlined strategies for improving policy conditions and building innovation mechanisms through the creation of the African Science, Technology and Innovation Initiative to establish common STI indicators and an STI observatory. It also sought to strengthen regional cooperation in science and technology, build public understanding of science and technology, a common strategy for biotechnology, and science and technology policy capacity as well as promote the creation of technology parks. The plan concluded with a list of institutional and funding arrangements as well as overall governance structures needed to ensure its effective and efficient implementation.

The CPA received vigorous support from UNESCO, which selected areas for assistance and proceeded to help a number of countries to review and reformulate their science policies. Notwithstanding all the fanfare that greeted the adoption of CPA, progress in implementing its programmes proved slow, hobbled by insufficient funding, weak organisational capacity, and inadequate infrastructure and expertise in STI policy development. Nevertheless, the CPA helped raise awareness about the importance of STI and foster bilateral and multilateral cooperation.

In 2014, the AUC adopted the Science, Technology and Innovation Strategy for Africa 2024 (STISA-2024), which sought to place “science, technology and innovation at the epicenter of Africa’s socio-economic development and growth”. Six priority areas and four mutually reinforcing pillars were identified. The priorities were: eradication of hunger and achieving food security; prevention and control of diseases; communication (physical and intellectual mobility); protection of our space; live together—build the society; and wealth creation. The pillars were: building and/or upgrading research infrastructures; enhancing professional and technical competencies; promoting entrepreneurship and innovation; and providing an enabling environment for STI development in the African continent.

It was envisaged that STISA-24 would be implemented by incorporating the strategy in national development plans at the national level, through the regional economic communities and research institutions and networks at the regional level, and the AUC at the continental level. Targets would be established at each level, monitoring and evaluation undertaken, and domestic and external resources mobilised. Flagship and research programmes would be established. Investment in universities as centers of excellence in research and training was emphasised, as was the engagement of the private sector, civil society, and the diaspora. STISA-24 was touted as a powerful tool to achieve the AU’s Agenda 2063 by accelerating “Africa’s transition to an innovation-led, Knowledge-based Economy”.

In 2018, UNECA produced a lengthy report on the STI profiles of African countries. It noted that Africa’s economic growth since 2000 did not result in significant socioeconomic transformation because it was not knowledge-based and technology-driven. Africa needed to establish “economies with sustained investments in science, technology and innovation (STI), and that have the capacity to transform inventions into innovations in order to drive national competitiveness and improve social welfare. Such countries have economic and STI policies integrated as coherent national policies and strategies; their decisions on STI are guided by carefully drafted country STI readiness and assessment reports”.

The report outlined key indicators for measuring STI. It identified four pillars of country STI readiness and their input and output indicators. First, STI actors’ competences and capacity to innovate. Under this pillar, input indicators include R&D intensity, R&D intensity of industry, number of researchers in R&D, public sector investment in R&D, private sector investment in R&D, education expenditure as a percentage of GDP, and science and engineering enrollment ratio. Among the output indicators is the proportion of the population with secondary and tertiary level education, share of low, medium and high tech products in total manufacturing output, share of low, medium and high tech exports in total exports, and patents, trademarks and designs registered.

Second, STI actors’ interactions. Inputs for this pillar comprise fixed electric power consumption per capita, telephone main lines in operation per 100 inhabitants, fixed broadband Internet subscribers per 100 people, and mobile cellular subscriptions per 100 people. Outputs encompass number of new products and services introduced, number of firms introducing new production processes, and level of FDI inflows.

Third, human resources for innovation. Its inputs consist of education expenditures as a percentage of GDP, sciences and engineering enrollment ratio, number of universities and other institutions of higher education, number of specialised universities in science and technology fields, and number of institutes providing technical vocational education. Its outputs are evident in the number of researchers in R&D, number of graduates in STI fields (sciences, engineering and mathematics), proportion of population with secondary and tertiary level education, and share of employment in manufacturing and services sectors.

Fourth, STI policy governance whose inputs are the existence of an STI policy derived from a participatory approach that ensures widespread stakeholders’ ownership and commitment, existence of an STI policy implementation framework that enjoys the support of the political leadership at the highest level, while its outputs are the number of STI initiatives completed and scaled up per year, proportion of planned STI investments achieved, FDI inflows, and the number of STI initiatives by nationals from the diaspora.

Each of the regional economic communities also promulgated their own STI initiatives and programs. In 2008, the Southern African Development Community issued its Protocol on Science, Technology and Innovation “to foster cooperation and promote, the development, transfer, and mastery of science, technology and innovation in Member States”. In its Vision 2050, the East African Community noted that “STI, whether embodied in human skills, capital goods, practices and organizations, is one of the key drivers of economic growth and sustainable development”. It bemoaned that “The weak development of science, technology and innovation has delayed the emergence of African countries as knowledge economies”, and outlined a series of STI initiatives including the formation of the East African Science and Technology Commission.

Similarly, in the treaty of the Economic Community of West African States, member states agreed to “strengthen their national scientific and technological capabilities in order to bring about the socio economic transformation”, by ensuring “the proper application of science and technology to the development of agriculture, transport and communications, industry, health and hygiene, energy, education and manpower and the conservation of the environment”, and reducing “their dependence on foreign technology and promote their individual and collective technological self-reliance”. They undertook to harmonise their science and technology policies, plans, and programs.

Despite these commitments, African countries have faced capacity challenges and constraints in building robust STI systems. In the literature four key issues have been identified. First, at the policy level, STI is often poorly grounded in the prevailing needs of the society and the national development plans, and lacks coordination. Second, there is lack of adequate and stable funding for STI infrastructures and poor implementation. Third, the private sector invests too little in research and development both for itself and in collaboration with higher education institutions. Fourth, scientific literacy as a critical means of popularising science, technology and innovation in society, and among students at all levels of the educational system tends to be weak.

It stands to reasons that developing and executing effective S&T policies entails the mobilisation of key stakeholders including public institutions, the private sector, universities and research networks, international agencies, non-governmental and civil society organisations, and the media. The latter is indispensable for translating science to the public and building popular support for it. In short, if the goal is to promote STI for sustainable development, the processes of policy formation and implementation require democratic engagement. This calls for political will and bold and visionary leadership, strong institutions, and strategic planning and coordination of programmmes and activities into a single, strong and sustainable national STI system. Without providing adequate resources to build research infrastructures and capacities, national plans become nothing more than ritualistic and rhetorical gestures to fantasy.

Universities as incubators of STI  

Clearly, building collective, creative and transformative STI systems is exceedingly demanding. As noted in a report by UNESCO on co-designing sustainability science, it entails, first, building robust capacities that promote strong training and research infrastructures, intersectoral linkages, and multisectoral plans, and ensuring implementation and impact. Second, it is requires strengthening the interdisciplinary and transdisciplinary generation of basic and applied knowledge and integrating different knowledge systems including indigenous and local knowledges and third, fortifying the science-policy-society interface through the incorporation of various stakeholders and mainstreaming the participation of women, the private sector, and civil society.

Universities are crucial for Africa’s drive to build effective transdisciplinary, collaborative and participatory STI capacities and systems that address the pressing needs and the development challenges and opportunities facing the continent. The package of prescriptions for this agenda is predictable. It is imperative to raise the number of tertiary institutions and enrollment ratios, levels of research productivity, and institutional commitments to public service and engagement and innovation and entrepreneurship.

In 2018, Africa had 1,682 universities, 8.9 per cent of the world’s total (18,772) compared to 37 per cent for Asia, 21.9 per cent for Europe, 20.4 per cent for North America, and 12 per cent for Latin America and the Caribbean. The tertiary enrollment ratio for sub-Saharan Africa was 9.08 per cent and for the Arab states, some of which are in Africa 33.36 per cent. In comparison, the world average was 38.04 per cent, for North America 86.26 per cent, for Europe 71.56 per cent, for Latin America and the Caribbean 51.76 per cent, East Asia and the Pacific 45.77 per cent, Central Asia 27.64 per cent, and South and West Asia 25.76 per cent.

Comparative global data on the enrollment ratio by programme is hard to come by. For the few African countries for which UNESCO had data covering 2013-2018 enrollments were highest in business, administration and law programmes, social sciences, journalism and information programmes, and arts and humanities programmes, in that order. In many countries, these three program clusters often registered more than two-thirds of students. Enrollments in the STEM and heath programmes tended to be much lower.

Enrollment in the natural sciences, mathematics and statistics programmes actually fell in Algeria, Benin, Burundi, Cape Verde, Lesotho, Madagascar, Morocco, Mozambique, Namibia, and South Africa. It only rose in Côte d’Ivoire and Seychelles. During the same period enrollment in engineering, manufacturing and construction programmes fell in Benin, Cape Verde, Côte d’Ivoire, Lesotho, Mauritius, Namibia, Niger, Nigeria and South Africa, while it rose in Algeria, Burkina Faso, Burundi, Egypt, Madagascar, Mali, Morocco, and Tunisia.

Enrollment in agriculture, forestry, fisheries and veterinary programs fell in ten countries (Algeria, Burundi, Cape Verde, Egypt, Mali, Morocco, Namibia, Rwanda, Seychelles and South Africa), and increased in eleven (Benin, Burkina Faso, Cameroon, Côte d’Ivoire, Eritrea, Ghana, Lesotho, Madagascar, Mauritius, Mozambique, and Niger). Enrollment in health and welfare programs rose in more countries—fourteen (Algeria, Burundi, Eritrea, Ghana, Lesotho, Madagascar, Mali, Morocco, Mozambique, Namibia, Niger, Seychelles, South Africa, and Tunisia)—and fell in seven (Benin, Burkina Faso, Cameroon, Cape Verde, Côte d’Ivoire, Egypt, and Mauritius).

STEM disciplines increasingly benefited from the establishment of universities of science and technology, the growth of these programmes in other universities, and the expansion of national and international research institutions. Africa’s leading economies, Nigeria, South Africa and Egypt, launched ambitious programmes and initiatives to promote science and technology, which benefitted universities. Nigeria’s Vision 2020 embraced science and technology as “key to global competitiveness” and turning the country into one of the top 20 economies in the world. It identified twelve priority areas for systematic intervention and development including biotechnology, nanotechnology, renewable energy, space research, knowledge-intensive new and advanced materials, ICT, and traditional medicine and indigenous knowledge.

In South Africa, the government adopted the National Research and Development Strategy in 2002, which rested on three pillars: innovation, human capital and transformation, and alignment and delivery. It sought to promote a coordinated science system, increase investment in R&D to 1 per cent of GDP, and enhance the country’s innovation and competitiveness in the global knowledge economy. Universities benefitted through the establishment of a Research Chairs initiative, Centers of Excellence Programme and a Postdoctoral Fellows Programme. In 2010, the Department of Science and Technology adopted a ten-year innovation plan building on the 2002 plan that placed emphasis on South Africa becoming a world leader in biotechnology and pharmaceuticals, space science and technology, energy security, global climate change science, and human and social dynamics. An innovation fund was established to promote these activities.

In Egypt, the STI system was shaped by the Academy of Scientific Research and Technology. Founded in 1972, the Academy controlled the budget for R&D in universities and research centers until 2007 when it ceased to be a financing body but continued to play a central role in coordinating the country’s research programmes. New organs were created to strengthen STI capacities and collaboration. Universities stood to benefit from investments to increase the number and remuneration of researchers, large government research institutes from 18 to 28 and smaller ones from 180 to 230, and make governmental sources of research funding available to private universities for the first time.

Egypt’s new constitution adopted in 2014 “sets a goal of allocating 1 percent of the country’s gross domestic product to scientific research, up from 0.4 percent in 2010-11”. In 2019, the country issued its National Strategy for Science, Technology and Innovation 2030. The plan envisaged enhancing the system of STI management, human resources and infrastructure, quality of scientific research, investment in scientific research and linking it to industry and development plans, international collaboration, and developing a scientific mindset in society. Thirteen priority areas were identified: energy, water, health and population, agriculture and food, environment and natural resources protection, technological application and future sciences, strategic industries, information, communication and space technology, education, mass media and social values, investment, trade and transportation, tourism, and social sciences and humanities.

The inclusion of the social sciences and humanities in the Egyptian STI 2030 strategy goes against the grain. All too often, African policy makers and educators create a Chinese wall between STEM and the humanities and social sciences, celebrating the former and disparaging the latter. In reality, what is needed is what some call STEAM—science, technology, engineering, arts, and mathematics. As I have argued extensively elsewhere, the Fourth Industrial Revolution—a term that refers to the emergence of quantum computing, artificial intelligence, Internet of Things, machine learning, data analytics, Big Data, robotics, biotechnology, nanotechnology and the convergence of the digital, biological and physical domains of life—makes it more imperative than ever to provide students with an integrated and holistic education that equips them with both essential employability skills and life-long learning skills.

The extraordinary changes in the nature and future of work, as well as living in a world that is increasingly digitalised and interconnected — processes that are being accelerated by COVID-19 — require the merging of hard skills and soft skills; training students in both the liberal arts and STEM; linking content knowledges and mindsets acquired in the classroom, campus (co-curricula activities), community (experiential learning), and in terms of career preparedness (work-based learning); offering an education that promotes interdisciplinary literacy, information literacy, intercultural literacy, international literacy, and inter-professional literacy; and providing teaching and learning using multiple platforms — face-to-face, online and blended.

We need to prepare our students for the next forty years of their lives, not the last forty of some of us. Their world will be characterised by extraordinarily complex and rapid changes, and by challenges and opportunities that are hard to predict. The best we can give these students, then, are the skills, competencies, literacies, and mindsets for flexibility, adaptability, versatility, and resilience. In short, the economies, societies, polities, and worlds of the twenty-first century will require lifelong and life-wide learning skills, which entails continuous reskilling and upskilling.

Education for lifelong learning has to transcend the narrow disciplinary silos many of us were trained in and to which we are so often passionately attached. Such an education must be inclusive, innovative, intersectional and interdisciplinary. That, I submit, is at the heart of science, technology, and innovation as a project and process for sustainable development.

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From Red to Blue: The Importance of the Black Vote in the US Presidential Election

Black voters, including recent immigrants from Africa, played a large part in ensuring the Biden-Harris victory. Changing demographics and Trump’s xenophobic attacks against immigrants and Muslims helped to flip key states from Republican to Democrat.

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From Red to Blue: The Importance of the Black Vote in the US Presidential Election
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Much media attention before and after the 2020 presidential election in the United States has been on the racial identity of Vice President-elect Senator Kamala Harris. The media emphasised her several firsts that are the result of where her parents were born.  From Jamaica where her father was born, to India where her mother was born, the narrative of her South Asian/Black identity has been scrutinised, analysed, and evaluated.  In addition, the perceived and real possibility of some dominant Republican states losing power to the Democrats was front and centre in newspaper articles, opinions pieces, blogs, and essays.

Political analysts addressed the international and domestic migration pieces of this puzzle to a certain extent, but the historical and contemporary dynamics of migration to and within the United States needs further analyses if we are to understand the Biden-Harris victory.

William F. Frey, in Diversity Explosion:  How Racial Demographics are Remaking America (2015), uses census and other data to illustrate that both forms of migration are transforming the country in economic and political ways.  Historical migration out of the South, especially for African Americans during the first half of the twentieth century to Northern, Midwestern, and Western states and cities, is too important to downplay.  Furthermore, intra-migration of African Americans has to be unpacked if we are to understand clear Democratic victories in certain states and the shift towards turning some red states into blue states—at least a paler shade of blue for some.  In other words, African Americans are migrating out of Chicago in droves, but not all of them are making a beeline to Atlanta.  Intra-regional migration has seen the numbers of African Americans increase in Milwaukee and other cities in Wisconsin, Minnesota, and Michigan that were so important to rebuilding the blue wall in the Midwest.  The other excellent example of intra-regional migration is African Americans migrating from California to Nevada and Arizona.

Finally, the manifestation of African American reverse migration out of these same states and regions showed up in voter turnout and voter preferences in particular states in the South and Southwest.  We must also take into consideration that states that experience an influx of African Americans, such as Georgia, Texas, North Carolina, and Florida, also experience an influx of Latino populations that come from various regions in Central and South America and the Caribbean.  Moreover, there are Latinos (read Mexican-descended non-immigrants) who have lived in what was northern Mexico and now makes up the Southwest for centuries.  They also participate in intra-regional migration from California to Nevada, Arizona, and Colorado.  In sum, domestic migration, whether it is intra-regional, inter-regional, or reverse, is a factor that is evident in recent presidential, congressional, and gubernatorial races in several states that have turned from red to blue or that could be on the cusp of transferring power from Republicans to Democrats.  When this domestic migration coincides with international migration, which is what brought Vice President-elect Kamala Harris’ parents to the United States in the first place, the result is a change in demographics and a more diverse electorate and candidate pool that ushered in different voter preferences and choices.

African American migration out of California to Southern states is important to note.  African Americans are moving from Los Angeles, San Francisco, and San Diego to Southern and Mid-Atlantic States such as Georgia, Louisiana, Virginia, Florida, Maryland, and the Washington, DC area.

The significance of the African American vote cannot be underestimated in the 2020 presidential election.  Without African Americans participating in large numbers in South Carolina’s democratic primary and then voting for Senator Joseph Biden, current President-elect Biden’s campaign may not have gotten the head winds needed to secure the nomination for president. Moreover, Congressman James E. Clyburn, the House Majority Whip, endorsed Biden.  The endorsement gave African Americans the green light to support Biden in the primary.  Biden garnered 61% of their vote. This is why South and African Americans are very important to the Democratic Party, although Biden did not win South Carolina.

This is where domestic migration needs to be unpacked as it relates to African Americans.  There is some scholarship on African American migration following the Civil War, such as Nell Irvin Painter’s Exodusters: Black Migration to Kansas after Reconstruction (1976).  Other scholarship examines the Great Migration of African Americans from the South to the North and Midwest into cities such as New York, Chicago, Cleveland, Los Angeles, Saint Louis, and Philadelphia.  Isabelle Wilkerson’s Warmth of Other Suns and Castes:  The Origins of Our Discontent (2010) is one such example, along with William F. Frey’s The New Great Migration:  Black Americans’ Return to the South, 1965-2000 (2004) and Sabrina Pendergrass’ “Routing Black Migration to the Urban US South:  Social Class and Sources of Social Capital in the Destinations Selection Process” (2013).  We know that African Americans transformed these cities culturally, economically, and politically.

From 1910 to 1970, as many as six million African Americans left the cotton fields, sharecropping, domestic work, and terrorism (in the form of lynching of Black people carried out by the Ku Klux Klan and other white groups) for the North, Midwest, Southwest, and West. They did not heed the call of Booker T. Washington to cast down their buckets where they were.  We also know that the first residents of these cities identified and voted for the Republican Party because they viewed it as the party of Abraham Lincoln.  Over time, party identification shifted to the Democratic Party and African Americans were important in the election of Democratic presidents while at the same time gaining political power as mayors in most of these cities beginning in the 1960s and 1970s.

The idea that there would a reverse migration of thousands of African Americans out of these cities to return to the South was not in the calculations of the Southern Strategy that the Republicans so successfully used to turn Democratic strongholds red.  One observation from the election is that the millions of African Americans who participated in reverse migration may have the ability to wrestle political power from the Republicans to the Democrats.

The impact of reverse migration  

Before there is a discussion of African American participation in the 2020 presidential election in the South in particular, the economic and cultural dynamics of their migration need to be addressed in general, and in particular, those states that experienced the influx of new African American arrivals beginning in the late 1990s.

For example, African Americans from New York, Chicago, and other Northeastern and Midwestern cities began moving to Georgian cities that include Atlanta, Savannah, Columbus, Athens, and Macon for several reasons.  Western cities such as Los Angeles and San Francisco also experienced an out-migration of African Americans.  One of the factors that makes Atlanta attractive to African Americans and others is its increasingly diverse population and economic opportunities.  The multinational giant, the Coco-Cola Company, along with DHL, Delta Airlines, Home Depot, and reputable colleges and universities that include Historical Black Colleges and Universities (HBCUs) such as Spelman and Morehouse that attract students, faculty, and staff from across the world, along with Emory University and top notch medical facilities serve as pull factors.  More importantly, Atlanta is a space for those who choose to migrate where African Americans can achieve economic and personal success.  Atlanta serves as a magnate for African Americans working in the entertainment industry such as Tyler Perry who opened Tyler Perry Studios in 2019. This follows the huge success of musicians who set up studios in Atlanta earlier, such as Kenneth Edmonds (Babyface) and Antonio Reid (L.A). Jermain Dupri and even Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis got their start in Atlanta by working with the Atlanta-based SOS band.  Edmonds and Reid used their skills as producers and songwriters to make some of the best-known recordings in the last several decades by Whitney Houston, Toni Braxton, Usher, Janet Jackson, TLC, Bobby Brown, Johnny Gill, and Boys II Men.

The idea that there would a reverse migration of thousands of African Americans out of these cities to return to the South was not in the calculations of the Southern Strategy that the Republicans so successfully used to turn Democratic strongholds red.

Florida is another state that has experienced an influx of African Americans as part of the reverse migration trend.  The mass exodus out of the Rust Belt does not just comprise whites who want to escape the harsh winters of the Midwest and Northeast after retirement nor whites who lost jobs due to loss of manufacturing jobs in states such as Michigan, Wisconsin, and Pennsylvania.  African Americans were also tired of the snow and sleet of these regions.  They too had lost jobs in the same states.

Again, what is missing from the Rust Belt to the Sun Belt narrative is the participation of African Americans and what this means for presidential races in their new states.  Whites are not the only ones moving to the Sunshine State to soak up the sun year round.  African Americans are moving to Fort Lauderdale, Tampa, Orlando, Jacksonville, and smaller towns and cities.Other states include North Carolina, Virginia, and South Carolina.

For African American retirees, the reasons vary, but they include other factors besides a warmer climate, such as a cheaper cost of living, lower taxes in some states, the desire to return to their ancestral homes to be near family and childhood friends and to enjoy leisure activities.  There are also pull factors for younger African Americans, especially those who are college-educated.  The growing economy in these states (before COVID- 19) provided employment in various sectors, such as banking in Charlotte, the tech industry in Atlanta, and the hotel and hospitality industry in Charleston, Miami, and Virginia Beach.

However, it is important to note that there were push factors that served as a catalyst for migration.  Many African Americans from Chicago to Philadelphia to Bridgeport to the Bronx were frustrated with areas where they lived that were unsafe on many levels.  Parents feared for the safety of their children; they also wanted their children to obtain a high quality education; employment opportunities that led to economic and social mobility dwindled, and finally the economic recession of 2008 laid bare the extent of predatory lending to African American households that often led to foreclosures.  Many lost their jobs, homes, savings, and any hope of rebuilding their lives.  They were more than willing to return to the states that their parents and grandparents had left in search of a better life.

Finally, in some ways life and opportunities in their new homes were better for African Americans.  However, there were instances when it was not.  They still could not fully escape structural and systemic racism, especially by the police when walking, driving, and shopping while Black could result in death.

African American migration out of California to Southern states is important to note.  African Americans are moving from Los Angeles, San Francisco, and San Diego to Southern and Mid-Atlantic States such as Georgia, Louisiana, Virginia, Florida, Maryland, and the Washington, DC area.  The high cost of housing and a dismal reputation for traffic jams, long commutes, and lack of public transport have pushed many residents to smaller cities. The Southwestern states of Texas, Nevada, and Arizona have also experienced an influx of African American migrants in Houston, Dallas, San Antonio, Austin, Las Vegas, and Phoenix.

Intra-migration, as mentioned above, is important to examine for African Americans in the West and Midwest.  African Americans have migrated from California to Nevada, Arizona, and Texas.  They have also migrated from cities such as Chicago, Detroit, Milwaukee, and Minneapolis to other smaller towns and cities.  The protests and demonstrations after the killing of George Floyd and the shooting of Jacob Blake Jr. illustrate the presence of African Americans in smaller cities throughout the country.  Unfortunately, the world knows that Kenosha, Wisconsin has an African American population.

Changing demographics 

Trump and Republican strategists seemed to be oblivious of inter, intra, and reverse migration for African Americans.  Moreover, the thought – not the fact – that the majority of African Americans are living in suburbs, regardless of the region more so now than ever, was not on their radar.  Trump’s nod to white women in his plea for them to like him and that he saved their neighbourhoods was a clear illustration that demographics had changed and he was unaware.  While he begged them to like him and vote for him, African Americans were getting out the vote in those same neighbourhoods from Atlanta to Miami, Phoenix, Houston and Austin.  The college-educated and retired African Americans who have migrated live in these same suburbs.

Furthermore, this population has the time, resources, and skills to participate in election campaigns, to donate to candidates, and to canvas door to door.  The tech entrepreneurs can use their expertise to work with younger people to use social media to energise African American voters.  Brentin Mock reports in “Black Cities Ain’t Going Nowhere” (2019) that suburban areas outside of Atlanta and Miami are manifestations of Black cities within the cityhood movement.  As indicated by the title of his article, Black cities are not decreasing in number, but rather, they are increasing:  from 460 in 1970 to 1,262 in 2017.

At the same time that inter, intra, and reverse migration has changed demographics in key states that determined the electoral vote count in 2020. International migration played a role too.  This discussion examines people who are citizens through naturalisation.  Therefore, the refugees and legal immigrants in states such as Texas, Florida, North Carolina, Georgia, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Pennsylvania, Virginia, Texas, Nevada, and Arizona are discussed.  Those states have significant immigrant populations who are eligible to vote and many did.  The largest number of immigrants are from Mexico, the Philippines, India, China, Vietnam, Cuba, South Korea, the Dominican Republic, Jamaica, and El Salvador.  It is interesting to note that of the 23 million eligible immigrant voters, they live in only five states:  California, Texas, Florida, New Jersey, and New York.  Trump won Florida and Texas while Biden won the other three Democrat strongholds.

However, Texas and Florida may be moving from blood red to cranberry red and on its way to becoming blue.  In particular, Texas has a large immigrant population from Mexico, Vietnam, and India.  For Florida, the emphasis is on Cuban-Americans and their support for the Republicans due to the narrative that they support presidential candidates who are anti-communist.  What is left out of this narrative within the context of the Latino vote in Florida is that other immigrants who are classified as Latino live there too, including Puerto Ricans, Colombians, Dominicans, El Salvadorans, and others from Central America.  Furthermore, these classifications are nebulous.  Where do African-descended migrants from Cuba, Colombia, Brazil, and the Dominican Republic factor in?  Asian Americans cannot be lumped into one category either because some Chinese and Japanese communities have lived in the United States for longer than the Vietnamese, Cambodians, Indians, and Laotians.

African immigrants and refugees have a shorter history in the United States due to exclusionary immigration laws.  However, laws passed that no longer relied on geographical quotas opened the door for more African and Black immigrants to enter the country.  In addition, the refugee ceiling for Africa slowly began to increase. At this point, Black- and African- descended immigrants played a role in the 2020 presidential election.  There numbers are still not large, but they are active and are certain to become more active.  Congresswoman Ilhan Omar serves as an important example.  The Somali-American community in the district that elected her, along with historic African American community, are too important to ignore.  It is also important to point out that refugees hold permanent resident status following their approval for resettlement to the United States.  Following the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, refugees must apply to adjust their status to lawful permanent resident after one year of being admitted into the United States. After five years of lawful permanent residence, refugees can apply for citizenship through naturalisation.  Therefore, the thousands of Somalis, Liberians, Ethiopians, Burundians, Sierra Leoneans, Rwandans, and Eritreans are citizens and eligible to vote.

Other first, second, and third generation African and Black immigrants participate in elections as well.  Census data and scholarship illustrate the level of education and their success in various economic sectors.  Many of these migrants who represent several generations at this point live in key states, cities, and suburbs that were important to the Biden-Harris ticket.  There is a confluence of their migration to the same regions and states where reverse migration has occurred.  In other words, the historic African American Diaspora and the contemporary African Diaspora are finding themselves in the same spaces in Georgia, Texas, Virginia, North Carolina, and Florida.  Both groups are represented by a young and college-educated demographic. This demographic lives and works in college towns such as Austin, Atlanta, Raleigh, Athens, Hampton, and Richmond.  At the same time, this demographic joins educated and professional retirees from the military, educational, corporate, health, government, and business sectors who vote.

Turning anger and grief to votes 

The last part of this essay will examine the five states that the Biden-Harris ticket flipped from red to blue and examine the role an influx of domestic and international migrants played.  Georgia serves as a good starting point because its growth in population that is eligible to vote from both domestic and international migration is too important to ignore.  Georgia had 2.4 million African Americans residents who were eligible to vote.  The number represents 32% of this total electorate.  The population growth resides in both urban and suburban areas.  People who voted for the Biden-Harris ticket live in counties such as Cobb, Henry, Douglas, Gwinnet, Clayton, and Fayette that are not predominantly as white as they were during previous elections.  These counties have larger numbers of African Americans now, but Asian Americans and Latinos now live there.  These communities, along with African and African descended immigrants have similar concerns around issues such as healthcare, the effects of COVID- 19 on people of color, police brutality against African Americans and other people of color including undocumented and documented immigrants.

Georgia delivered its electoral votes to the Republican presidential candidate faithfully after the 1992 election, but in 2020, things fell apart. The New York Times reported on November 14th that, “Mr. Biden’s late surge in Georgia, thanks to his dominance in Atlanta, Savannah and the increasingly Democratic-friendly suburbs around both, transformed what had seemed to be a safe Trump state in early tabulations last week into one of the closest contexts in the nation.”  This underscores the importance of the cities pointed out earlier that have African American voters as the result of several factors including reverse migration, retirees, HBCUs, and immigrants from Africa, Asia, Central America, and the Caribbean.  The same New York Times article pointed out the importance of Atlanta in that “Mr. Biden was powered by high turnout among Black voters in Atlanta.”

The Biden-Harris ticket probably would not have garnered these much-needed electoral votes without the organisational skills of Stacy Abrams.  Ms. Abrams gained national attention when she ran and later lost the governor’s race in 2018 under the suspicion of voter suppression carried out by her opponent, Brian Kemp, who at the time was Secretary of State.  It is clear to all who were not familiar with presidential elections in the United States that the secretaries of state are responsible for overseeing elections to ensure that voter fraud and suppression do not occur.  Many in Georgia and around the country viewed Ms. Abrams as the rightful winner because they believed the secretary of state’s office participated in voter suppression by purging voters’ names from the voting rolls.  Ms. Abrams turned this loss into a win for Democrats in the presidential election by galvanizing 800,000 new registered voters.  We all know that voting is important, but if one does not register, one cannot vote.  The 14,000 votes that Biden received to beat Trump may have come from this number.

Georgia was the only state in the South that flipped from red to blue where the Midwest had two:  Wisconsin and Michigan. Wisconsin has 0.3 million eligible African American voters or 6% of the state’s electorate.  Wisconsin is among the Midwestern states that has experienced intra-migration as the result of African Americans moving from cities such as Chicago to Milwaukee and other smaller cities.  However, during this presidential election, this is not what put the state in national and international headlines.   The police shooting in August 2020 of 29- year old Jacob Blake Jr., an African American man who did not live in Milwaukee, made the small city of Kenosha infamous. Mr. Blake survived the shooting, but his name is on the long list of African American men who have either been killed or severely injured by the police.

Hundreds of people from the state and Midwest descended on Kenosha after learning that police officers shot Mr. Blake seven times in the back, leaving him paralysed. Trump’s response to this shooting did not motivate African Americans and other people of colour, along with whites in urban and suburban areas, to vote for him.  When people from all backgrounds protested against the shooting, Trump made it clear that he supported whatever aggressive actions were taken by the police.  The last straw may have been the killing of two white men in Kenosha by a white teenager during a Black Lives Matter protest in response to the Blake shooting.  Another person was seriously injured. The image of a seventeen-year old teenager brandishing a semi-automatic rifle, shooting three men, and then running toward the police with the gun slung across his torso was too much.  To add insult to injury, the police assisted the teenager; the police did not apprehend him on the spot; the police did not push him to the ground, put him in a chokehold, put him in handcuffs or use a Taser to attempt to arrest him.  His arrest was the following day from his home in Illinois!  It was apparent to African Americans that Trump’s call for law and order did not apply to everyone equally.  When Congresswoman Gwen Moore, whose district includes Milwaukee, stated, “We have to turn our anger and grief and frustration into our votes,” African Americans listened.

Hundreds of people from the state and Midwest descended on Kenosha after learning that police officers shot Mr. Blake seven times in the back, leaving him paralysed. Trump’s response to this shooting did not motivate African Americans and other people of colour, along with whites in urban and suburban areas, to vote for him.

Wisconsin’s location next door to Minnesota heightened people’s willingness to march and protest following the murder of George Floyd in May 2020.  In addition, Wisconsin is part of the intra-migration of African Americans from Chicago and other cities in Illinois and other states in the Midwest.  Some of these migrants live in Milwaukee; however, others have moved to smaller cities such as Madison and Racine.

African Americans, in particular, did not just march and protest; they registered to vote and then voted for Biden. They did not repeat the mistake of 2016 when they stayed home and did not vote for Senator Hillary Clinton who, perhaps mistakenly, did not campaign in the state.  Moreover, Biden and Harris did not make Clinton’s mistake; they both campaigned in Wisconsin and for that thousands of African Americans, particularly younger ones, voted for the ticket. Wisconsin is just one example of an increase in voter registration and voting by young African Americans in the presidential election.  In many ways, it was obvious that Trump was launching a dirty war against them by using the rhetoric of law and order; insisting that federal law enforcement protects cities; and giving a nod to a white supremacist group, Proud Boys, that he was on their side during one of the presidential debates no less.

The second Midwestern state to deliver blue electoral votes to Biden was Michigan, especially among younger voters.  Michigan, like Wisconsin, was able to give Trump a victory in 2016 because many African Americans voters stayed home.  Michigan may not have had its Stacy Adams, but it had African American pastors and others who mobilised people to register to vote.  African Americans constituted 13% of the one million eligible voters in Michigan.  Detroit’s own Stevie Wonder played a part by attending a campaign rally in Detroit that paid off with Biden receiving 94% of votes cast in Detroit while Trump received 5%.  This came as no surprise as Detroit’s population is 79% African American.  However, African Americans in Detroit could not have done it alone.  Other African Americans in Oakland, Genesee, and Wayne County (39% of its population is African American) were also important.  Michigan’s Lt. Governor, Michael Gilchrist understood this and underscores the argument that Trump fundamentally did not understand changing demographics when he attempted to characterise the suburbs as being places for whites only.  He played right into the hands of Trump and the Republicans when he stated, “This year I really kind of made it my mission to make sure that we were engaging communities both in Detroit but also in…Flint, Saginaw, Benton Harbor.  But also, importantly, the fact that Black people don’t just live in cities.”

There is no disputing the importance of the African American vote in Michigan, from Detroit to Flint to Benton Harbor.  However, Michigan has Latino, Asian, and Arab and Muslim populations.  Segments of the Arab and Muslim population have been in the state from the late nineteenth century.  African Americans were not the only group who moved there to work in the automobile plants.  People who identified as Arab migrated to work in the new auto plants.  It is important to point out that this population is not all Arab or Muslim and many do not come from or are descended from the Middle East.

The Black Muslim and Arab American vote 

Finally, there are Black Muslims to consider.  Let us not forget that the members of the historic African Diaspora founded the Nation of Islam in Detroit in 1930.  The Pew Research Center reported in 2017 that Black Muslims represent one-fifth of all Muslims in the United States. Put another way, two percent of African Americans identify as Muslim.  Black Muslims are a part of the historic and contemporary Diaspora in the United States.

The contemporary African Diaspora Black Muslims can be from Senegal, Nigeria, Sudan, Somalia, or Ethiopia.  Dearborn has the distinct reputation of being the capital of Arab America. These communities have much in common with African Americans in terms of housing, employment, racial justice, police killings, and COVID- 19.  African Americans have shown solidarity with immigrants and refugees.  This was evident in their push for reforms in immigration laws during the 1960s at a time when they had recently gained basic civil and voting rights.

Trump’s (or rather his son-in-law, Jared Kushner’s) handling of issues in the Middle East did not convince some Muslims to vote for him.  Many Americans, and not just this community, did not think Kushner had the political skills or expertise to enable him to formulate any foreign policy, let alone to broker a peace deal between Israel and the Palestian Authority. What he managed to do was totally unacceptable to the Palestinians as it was clear that Israel was not going to have to give any concessions while the Palestinians were expected to take whatever offer was on the table.  This, along with other issues and concerns, may have been the final nail in the coffin that sealed Trump’s electoral fate in Michigan.

Going back to the above counties of Wayne, Macomb, Oakland, they not only have sizeable African American populations, but there are also Latinos, Asian, Arab, and Muslim Americans who reside there.  Again, Trump was ignorant concerning the racial and ethnic diversity found in American suburbs.  Wayne County is not only home to Detroit, but Dearborn where a sizeable Arab American population lives.  Trump failed to gain the votes from eligible voters in this county, but Biden did and he won 70% of this voting bloc.

Arab Americans, similar to all groups, do not vote one hundred percent for either party.  Domestic and international issues influence their vote. Their vote is influenced by domestic and international issues. The voting patterns of communities that have resided in the state for decades are different from those of more recent refugees from Syria and Iraq.  One issue that may have unified the various communities is immigration and Trump’s efforts to ban travel to and from Arab and Muslim-majority countries.  Congresswoman Rashida Tlabib, one of four Congresswomen Trump bullied, played a significant role in getting Arab, Muslim, and African American communities to vote.

Winning Pennsylvania 

President-elect Biden won his home state of Pennsylvania.  However, it was a struggle to the end, but his victory allowed him to reach the 270 electoral votes needed to become President-elect and to put the state in the blue column.  Biden needed to win urban and suburban areas and he did this in Philadelphia and Allegheny Counties that are home to the cities of Philadelphia and Pittsburgh.

African Americans and others in Philadelphia responded to the police killing, again captured on video, of Walter Wallace Jr. in October 2020, with marches, protests, and looting.  Trump’s response was to send in the National Guard.  Again, this was his signal that he was the candidate to enforce law and order.  When he begged white women to like him because he saved their neighbourhoods, his message was that he would deal with these “thugs.”  African Americans interpreted it for what it was.   They were stereotyped as criminals who needed to be rounded up and locked up.  African Americans make up 10% or one million of the state’s eligible voters and enough of them voted for Biden.

As the Lt. Governor of Michigan rightly pointed out for his state, African Americans do not all live in cities.  The same applies to Pennsylvania where African Americans in rural areas voted for the Biden-Harris ticket.  African Americans in suburban areas followed suit.  One county is Chester where the African American population voted overwhelming for Biden.  African American churches, sororities, fraternities, and civil rights groups all joined forces to push Biden into the lead.  Smaller cities such as Harrisburg, the state capital, also voted for Biden.  African Americans voted in other parts of the state such as Wilkes-Barre, Erie, Allentown, Reading, Scranton (Biden’s hometown), and York.  Pennsylvania is a state that witnessed large numbers of African Americans who migrated during the Great Migration.  Their descendants are the ones who canvassed door-to-door, participated in phone banks, organised voter registration, and voted for Biden.

Pennsylvania has the not so flattering reputation of having Philadelphia and Pittsburgh as progressive centres and the rest is Mississippi.  As stated above, African Americans live throughout the state in urban, suburban, and rural areas.  The state also has an increasing number of Latinos and Asian Americans as a result of immigration.  According to the Pew Research Center, the number of Asian eligible voters in the country was 4.6 million in 2000.  This number increased to 11.1 million in 2020.  Again, Asian Americans are very diverse and people from the Pacific Islands are often put into this category.  Nevertheless, the issues that concern them include the economy, education, healthcare, COVID- 19, and immigration.  Pennsylvania has 511,002 people who are classified as Asian American and Pacific Islanders.  Of this number, 251,377 are eligible to vote. The largest numbers are people from Indian (155,887), China (136,206) followed by Vietnam (49,306), South Korea (47,480), and the Philippines (42,544). The same counties that have sizeable African American populations are where Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders reside:  Philadelphia, Montgomery, and Allegheny Counties.

Within this classification, numerous factors produce cleavages such as immigration status, religion, and countries of origin.  Putting all of this aside, Asian American and Pacific Islanders made up 4% of Pennsylvania’s eligible voters and many voted for Biden.  Again, some members of this population were born in Muslim-majority countries or their parents and grandparents migrated from those countries.

Trump, again, put his foot in his mouth by constantly blaming the COVID- 19 pandemic on China, going so far as to call it the “China Virus,” and threatening to engage in a trade war with the country. These actions, accompanied by anti-Asian racism, served to energise members of the community to provide voter education, register eligible voters, and ensure they voted.  Despite Asian Americans being labeled the model minority, they face the same challenges that all minority and marginalized communities face such as poor health care, lack of health insurance, significant rates of poverty, poor housing, unemployment, and overall obstacles to achieve social and economic success.

Latino voters in Pennsylvania also contributed to Biden’s 270 electoral votes.  This segment of the population is diverse within the context of its members having origins in many countries.  In addition, it does not pack a punch, like African Americans, in terms of its numbers in Pennsylvania, but every vote for Biden was important.  It has a larger number than Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders in terms of eligible voters with more than 500,000.  Of this number, the majority identify as Puerto Rican, Dominican, and Mexican.  Similar to communities discussed above in all states, Latinos organised grassroots efforts to register voters. The treatment and language used by Trump following Hurricane Maria served to favour Biden over Trump because it was viewed as a gesture of blatant disrespect.  This, coupled with the same issues discussed above for other communities, gave Biden the support of the Latino community.

Voter mobilisation 

The last sections of the essay will examine the Western region by examining the presidential vote in Arizona.  Biden won Arizona that was a deep shade of red (perhaps ruby red).  This is a big shift from the party of ultra-conservative Senator Barry Goldwater to the “maverick” late Senator John McCain.  Trump’s treatment of the late senator, both in life and in death, was mean-spirited and hateful.  Trump took every opportunity to besmirch McCain’s  military career during the Vietnam War and his political record in the Senate.  Senator McCain’s widow did not let Trump’s attacks go unnoticed.  When a long-time Republican such as Ms. Cindy McCain publicly denounced Trump and endorsed Biden, the writing was on the wall that the state had the possibility to flip from red to blue.  People of colour may not have supported or voted for Senator McCain, but many must have believed that Trump’s attacks against him represented an all-time low and he was clearly in the basket of deplorables.  The last Democrat to win the presidential vote in Arizona was President Clinton in 1996.  Trump’s attacks against a late senator, who Republicans and Democrats respected, may have played a role.

There were other factors at play, including the state’s changing demographics due to inter, intra, and international migration.  However, the state’s indigenous population needs to be examined as the media, politicians and other Americans even in states where their numbers are significant often ignore them.  The Navajo in Arizona are one such group.  Its members overwhelmingly voted for Biden under daunting circumstances.  First, COVID- 19 hit their communities in a devastating manner.  The health outcomes for the Navajo were problematic before the pandemic struck.  The pandemic made it difficult to provide voter education and registration information to them.  The cases of COVID- 19 were disproportionate to their numbers in the state and the death toll struck a community already under siege.  Trump’s anti-immigrant position did not appeal to many indigenous communities because of his plan to build a wall to keep out migrants from Mexico.  In order to build the wall, sacred burial grounds of the Hopi, White Mountain Apache, and Pascua were destroyed.  Moreover, indigenous populations throughout the country and in Arizona understand marginalisation, racism, and discrimination.  Similar to African Americans, not all Native Americans in Arizona live in urban areas.  They too joined African Americans, Asian Americans, and Latinos in Phoenix and the important Maricopa County.

As stated earlier, intra-migration of African Americans and Latinos from California to Arizona has changed the demographics in the state.  These two groups also played a role in delivering Arizona’s eleven electoral votes to Biden, although the African American population is much smaller than the Latino one.  Arizona had 0.2 million eligible African American voters or 5% of the state’s eligible voters.  Again, Maricopa County, where many African Americans reside voted for the Biden-Harris ticket.  Many of these African Americans are college-educated middle and upper middle class professionals.  The percentage of African American eligible voters who have a Bachelor’s degree and higher is 23% while 41% have some college education.

African Americans find retirement attractive in Arizona due to the lower cost of housing from what they left in Los Angeles, San Francisco, Sacramento, and San Diego.  California declined to serve as a pull for African American migration, but rather, African Americans migrated to Arizona with their college degrees and skills prepared to take advantage of economic and professional opportunities.  African American migration out of California in significant numbers began in the late 1980s long before the economic crisis of 2008.

Latinos also voted for Biden.  This category includes more immigrants from Central America and Mexico and non-immigrant Mexican descended citizens who have lived in California for generations and later moved to Arizona.  In other words, there are people of Mexican descent or non-immigrants whose ancestors lived in what was then Northern Mexico (later became the Southwest) before the Mexican-American War.  Arizona’s Latino population that is eligible to vote is 23% or 1.2 million citizens.

International migration within the context of African and African-descended populations may not have been very significant for the 2020 presidential election, but if the numbers of eligible voters continue to increases from this migration, they could play a bigger role in future elections.  African refugees and immigrants reside in all of the above states.  An estimated 2.4 million Africans migrated to the country during the last two decades.  As stated above, all refugees can apply for citizenship after five years of permanent legal residence.  The U.S. refugee resettlement programme began to accept refugees in the 1980s mainly from Ethiopia and Somalia.  The children and grandchildren of these refugees are first and second generation American citizens.  More recently, refugees have been accepted for resettlement from Liberia, Burundi, Democratic Republic of Congo, Sudan, South Sudan, and Sierra Leone.  Immigrants from Africa have mainly migrated from Egypt, Ethiopia, Nigeria, Kenya, Ghana, Cameroon, Senegal, South Africa, Egypt, Morocco, Tunisia, and Libya.   African descended immigrants have migrated primarily from Jamaica, Haiti, Dominican Republic, Guyana, Cuba, and Trinidad and Tobago.

Because African and African-descended people, regardless of their origins and how long they have lived in the country, were classified as Black, the Black eligible voters discussed above include people from refugee and immigrant backgrounds as well as the historical African Diaspora.  This has increased the overall percentage of Black eligible voters.  For the states that flipped from red to blue, Arizona’s was 5%; Pennsylvania 10%; Georgia 32%; Wisconsin 6%; and Michigan 13%.

Florida is worth mentioning although it did not flip but because the percentage is the highest of the top states with Black immigrant populations.  The state has 14% of its eligible voters who are Black immigrants from either Africa or the Caribbean.  The old notion that the Black vote is totally comprised of the historic African Diaspora needs to be deconstructed to take into account African and African descended immigrants who come from diverse and vast backgrounds.  For example, depending on their country of origin, some are Christian while others are Muslims, and others are from South Asian origins whose relatives migrated to the Caribbean and East Africa from India.

Black immigrants from the Caribbean have English or Spanish as their first language whereas immigrants from Africa have many first languages such as Arabic, Yoruba, Ewe, Zulu, and Luo.  In addition, many are fluent in the European language of their former colonisers, such as French, Portuguese, and English.  Furthermore, there is a need to examine the Latino population within the context of nebulous racial categories.  There is the non-white Latino and white Latino classification.  For example, are African-descended immigrants from the Dominican Republic and Cuba, Latino or Black?  Are immigrants from Brazil who are African- descended Black or Latino?  Are they both?  What do these categories mean for understanding the Black vote?  Are North Africans Black immigrants?  To help answer these questions, the census can now capture some of these nuances by simply asking citizens to identify their national origins.

The 2020 presidential election signaled that the African and African-descended population, if not already, will have a role to play in future elections and may serve to swing battleground states such as Florida from red to blue.  We know that in Philadelphia, which has a sizeable African and African-descended immigrant population, there was a concerted effort to engage in grassroots organising and mobilising.  The Coalition of African and Caribbean Communities and the African Cultural Alliance of North America worked hard to make sure citizens originally from Sierra Leone, Liberia, Ethiopia, and Nigeria registered to vote and then voted.  Social media and good old-fashioned door-to-door canvasing mobilised eligible voters to cast their votes and many did for Biden.  Biden’s win in Pennsylvania is what gave him the 270 electoral votes.  The media, and rightfully so, focused on the Black vote and Philadelphia.  What was missing was the importance of the Black immigrant vote, particularly in Philadelphia.  Black immigrants paid attention to the police killing of Walter Wallace Jr.  Some members of this community may have participated in the protests following the killing.  They too interact with the police and whether they or their parents are from Jamaica, Nigeria, or Ethiopia, they are viewed and treated as Black.  When the Black vote is compressed into a single bloc, these important factors are not explored.

Because African and African-descended people, regardless of their origins and how long they have lived in the country, were classified as Black, the Black eligible voters include people from refugee and immigrant backgrounds as well as the historical African Diaspora.  This has increased the overall percentage of Black eligible voters.

Similar to the historic African Diaspora and other immigrant and minority groups discussed above, these communities share similar issues that motivated them to vote and sometimes against Trump – issues surrounding immigration, employment, education, healthcare and COVID- 19.  At the same time, depending on how long they have lived in the country, their religious beliefs and age, some hold conservative views and supported Trump over Biden.

However, there is one thing that most Black people regardless of citizenship, immigration status, age, gender, and region of residence, rallied around: Trump’s grotesque characterisation of some African countries as “shitholes”. This was an assault against all members of these communities who have roots in Africa regardless of how long they have lived in the country and under what conditions they ended up in the country.

Trump’s anti-Muslim ban, overall anti-immigrant stance, attacks on Congresswomen Tlabib and Omar, and general disinterest in Africa persuaded some of these voters to support Biden.  Finally, Latinos are not the only immigrant group that is concerned about immigration issues.  Although a sizeable percentage of African and African-descended immigrant populations are in the country legally, thousands are undocumented.  U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement conducts surveillance on them, rounds them up in sweeps, detains, and then deports them.  There are numbers of Africans seeking asylum who are also stuck at the US-Mexican border.  They too are separated from their families including children from their parents.

Over the next several months and years, scholars and the media will study and analyse the presidential election of 2020.  International and domestic migration is crucial for a thorough understanding of the outcomes for Biden in the swing states that handed him a victory. Arizona was the only state with a large Latino population that flipped from red to blue.  Texas and Florida remained red despite having sizeable eligible voters who are Latino immigrants and non-immigrant Mexican descended—Texans of Mexican descent are not recent immigrants. Latinos’ contribution to the immigrant vote in Texas is 52% while their percentage of eligible voters is 30%.  Both immigrant and non-immigrants make up 40% of the state’s population.  Texas did not turn blue for the 2020 presidential election, but it has a good chance in the next election as its Latino, African American, and Black immigrant populations increase, along with Asian Americans.

The other part of the 2020 presidential election that cannot be ignored is the extent of voter mobilisation within all of the states discussed among all of the communities.  In addition, the gender dynamics of this mobilisation needs to be analyzed.  African American women received media attention, spurred on by the work of Stacy Abrams in Georgia and women in other states.  We have become familiar with their activism.  However, Latina women in Texas, Florida, Nevada, Pennsylvania, and Arizona need to be visible.  Native American women in Arizona also need to be acknowledge for their work.  African and Caribbean immigrant women in Pennsylvania and Muslim and Arab women in Michigan were very important to voter mobilisation.

What is evident from the election is that all of the people in all of the states have difference histories and experiences in the United States.  No group is monolithic.  There were similar issues in common for all groups during this election period that occurred during a pandemic:  access to healthcare, unemployment, and economic issues.  Despite all the differences and variations among and within all of these groups, there was enough commonality and coalition-building to turn some states from red to blue.

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