Africa

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Re: Africa

Post by blindpig » Tue Sep 03, 2024 2:56 pm

Amilcar Cabral and the World to Come
Posted by Internationalist 360° on September 1, 2024
Hanna Eid

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The articles, speeches, and communiqués of Amilcar Cabral are required reading for revolutionaries today who are struggling with the agrarian question and the current wave of revolutions.

Inkani Books, a publishing house from South Africa, has released a number of remarkable titles in recent years. These books include Tell No Lies, Claim No Easy Victories; a collection of the writings of Amilcar Cabral, as well as other books which correlate with the Zulu and Xhosa concept of Inkani – a stubborn determination, here, particularly the resolve of the oppressed to fight for liberation. The aforementioned text includes speeches and articles delivered by Amilcar Cabral; some of which are being translated into English for the first time. These articles, speeches, and communiqués are required reading for revolutionaries today who are struggling with the agrarian question and the current wave of revolts and revolutions in the peripheries of the capitalist world system. Cabral was a Cape Verdean revolutionary who played a pivotal role in founding the PAIGC, along with other forums and institutions dedicated to the overthrow of Portuguese colonialism in Guinea Bissau, Cape Verde, Angola, and Mozambique. Although he was assassinated before the brief unification of Guinea and Cape Verde could be realized, his ideas continue to resonate with relevance and potency today.

Economic, cultural, political, and armed resistance are themes explored in the majority of Cabral’s essays and speeches. All of these types of resistance revolve around a central axis: the question of land. Cabral knew that people do not fight for ideas alone, it is the resolution of the immediate contradictions and struggles in their lives that drives them toward revolution. In a speech delivered in London, someone asked Cabral if PAIGC is a Marxist-Leninist party. Cabral’s answer was revealing of the kind of revolutionary he was:

People here are very preoccupied with the questions: ‘Are you Marxist or non-Marxist? Are you a Marxist-Leninist’. Just ask me, please, whether we are doing well in the field. Are we really liberating our people, the human beings in our country from all forms of oppression? Ask me simply this and draw your own conclusions.

While this brilliant answer cuts away at ideological dogmatism and fanaticism, Cabral also knew that theory is a weapon in the hands of the oppressed. In an interview with a Portuguese journalist, Cabral puts forward a clear analysis of why his people are determined to resist. He relates the struggle of the people of Guinea and Cape Verde to the revolution in Cuba, Vietnam, and Palestine while also highlighting the clear distinctions in strategies and tactics of struggle in each locale. Many of the answers given by Cabral in this interview are relevant even today.

When asked about Palestine, Cabral had a more lucid analysis than most contemporary analysts, presenting Palestine as a key element of the Arab struggle, rather than constructing Palestine as a black-box nation state separate from the region. “We want the Arab peoples to seek the freedom of the people of Palestine, to free the Arab nation of imperialist disturbance and domination: ‘Israel’.” When asked about Che Guevara’s theory of guerrilla struggle and its applicability to the Guinean struggle, Cabral further elucidated the importance of marrying theory and practice.

Cabral points to the importance of understanding armed struggles as one facet of national liberation, while arguing that the people of Guinea must start from their own conditions as a launching point. The people of Guinea could not copy every tactic and strategy of the heroic Cuban people or the Vietnamese, but they could view these struggles as different terrains in the same fight. In this way, the beauty of Cabral’s statement on the Guinean struggle shines through: “Our people are our mountains,” he said. While Vietnam had thick jungle cover, and the Cubans fought in the Sierra Maestra mountains, the conditions in Guinea were such that the people became the stand-in for the environment, which was not favorable for clandestine armed struggle, according to the accumulated knowledge of guerrilla movements. This is why, according to Cabral, the Guinean War of Independence was a ‘centrifugal’ struggle. They started in the large cities and then moved outward toward the countryside. This is an inversion of the Chinese, Vietnamese, and Cuban struggles where the guerrilla forces started in the countryside and moved toward the city. Cabral and the PAIGC were master tacticians in that sense, understanding that they could not blindly copy the blueprints of other peoples, but rather could see those people as an inspiration while building a uniquely Guinean revolution.

This independence in our thought and action is relative. It is relative because in our thought we are influenced by the thought of others. We are not the first to wage an armed struggle for national liberation, or a revolution. We did not invent guerrilla warfare–we invented it in our land…we must be aware that no struggle can be waged without an alliance, without allies.

The invention of guerilla warfare on one’s own land, with unique means and ends, contains the final and critical element of struggle: culture. During the Guinean revolution, many people believed that embracing one’s own culture in contrast to the colonial culture meant uncritically reverting to pre-colonial cultural practices. Cabral highlighted the failure of this strategy and urged the peoples of Guinea Bissau and Cape Verde to forge a new, revolutionary culture through armed, economic, and political struggle. In this assessment, Cabral was not alone; the late Ghassan Kanafani was not only the spokesman of the PFLP but edited their magazine and produced cultural works himself. The revolution in Palestine—much like the one led by PAIGC in Guinea—has cultivated a people with a strong, resistant mentality and a revolutionary will that maintains cultural values and concretizes them through struggle.

Cultural symbols revolving around land animate the struggles of today. In Palestine, the watermelon, the olive tree, the koufiyyeh, and various tatreez symbols (embroidery) from each locale tie the people to the land and concretize the struggle in the subjective conditions of Palestine. This is the vision Cabral had of struggle in Africa, Asia, and Latin America; only through a profound understanding of one’s own conditions and the study of other revolutionary experiences can a movement advance toward liberation.

All of this is also intimately related to economic struggles against colonialism and imperialism. Cabral pushed for agricultural self-sufficiency, redistribution of land, and other economic forms of delinking from the capitalist world system. This, too, impresses the importance of charting an independent path toward revolution on those of us living in the shadow of Cabral and all the martyrs who came before us. The first task of national liberation, according to Cabral, is the reclaiming of the means of production, which have been usurped by external, colonial forces. From there, the revolutionary forces can take the lessons learned regarding culture and the question of land and go about building a new society, free from colonial domination. Although Cabral is no longer with us, the forces of revolution are alive in Palestine and the Sahel, shining a light on the path to liberation.

https://libya360.wordpress.com/2024/09/ ... d-to-come/

“Tell No Lies, Claim No Easy Victories”: Remembering Amílcar Cabral
https://revolutionarystrategicstudies.w ... ar-cabral/

The Weapon of Theory
https://revolutionarystrategicstudies.w ... of-theory/

Amílcar Cabral: “Nazis are the most tragic expression of imperialism and its thirst for domination”
https://revolutionarystrategicstudies.w ... omination/

“Hide Nothing from The Masses; Tell No Lies”—Some Lessons from Amilcar Cabral
https://libya360.wordpress.com/2023/07/ ... ar-cabral/
"There is great chaos under heaven; the situation is excellent."

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Re: Africa

Post by blindpig » Wed Sep 11, 2024 2:25 pm

Burkina Faso Nationalizes UK Goldmines
September 10, 2024

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SAG mill at the Boungou mine in Burkina Faso. Photo: Endeavour Mining.

(OrinocoTribune.com)—Burkina Faso will nationalize two gold mines at a cost of about US $80 million. The Boungou and Wahgnion mines were sold last year by London-listed Endeavour Mining to Lilium Mining for US $300 million. On August 27, the mines were purchased by Burkina Faso’s government for a fraction of this cost.

“This strategic move is aimed at reclaiming Burkina Faso’s mineral wealth,” said Joe Hotagua of African Streams, “ensuring that a larger portion of the profits benefits Burkinabe people.”

Endeavour Mining is based in London, UK, and claims to be the largest gold producer in West Africa. It also possesses assets in Senegal and Ivory Coast. Recently, allegations of serious misconduct have been levied against its mining operations in Ivory Coast.

In April of this year, Endeavour Mining was accused of misleading West African-based Lilium Mining and overvaluing the mines. As a result, Lilium Mining appears to have withheld payment due to Endeavour Mining. The two companies were embroiled in court proceedings; as part of the agreement with Burkina Faso’s government, this dispute will be terminated.

Among its stated goals, which draw inspiration from Thomas Sankara and Pan-Africanism, Burkina Faso’s administration has promised to assert control over its national resources. In February 2023, Traoré’s government expelled France’s military from the country. In November of that year, the landlocked country’s Council of Ministers approved the construction of Burkina Faso’s first gold refinery. In July of 2024, Burkina Faso, Niger, and Mali formed the Alliance of Sahel States (AES).



According to the World Gold Council’s 2023 figures, Burkina Faso is the 13th-largest gold producer in the world, producing about 100 tons, equivalent to about US $6 billion in value, each year. Because most of the gold is exploited by private corporations based in Europe and the West, the total annual GDP of the entire Burkinabe economy, however, is only about US $18 billion. In September 2023, it was reported, for example, that Canadian companies own about US $1.8 billion of Burkina Faso’s gold resources.

“We are going to get our mining licenses back,” Burkina Faso’s President Ibrahim Traoré stated earlier this year, “and we are going to mine it ourselves.”

As Hotagua explained, “The nationalization process involved renegotiating contracts with foreign entities and asserting more substantial control over the mining operations, directly impacting several international mining firms such as B2 Gold, Nordgold, and Endeavour Mining. This initiative by Ibrahim Traoré is not just about economic sovereignty but also reflects broader intention to break from national economic patterns and foster self-sufficiency. The implications of this move are profound, promising increased government revenue and more resources for crucial sectors such as education, healthcare, and infrastructure.”

https://orinocotribune.com/burkina-faso ... goldmines/

No compensation! Enough is enough.
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Re: Africa

Post by blindpig » Fri Oct 11, 2024 1:58 pm

Germaine Pitroipa: “As Long as the People of Burkina Faso Suffer, the Ideas of Thomas Sankara Will Remain Valid”.
Posted by Internationalist 360° on October 10, 2024
Àlex M. Verdejo

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Germaine PitroipaPhoto: Germaine Pitroipa (Àlex M. Verdejo)

Germaine Pitroipa was a member of the revolutionary government of Burkina Faso (1983-87), led by President Thomas Sankara. Many years later, she values the legacy of the reference of Pan-Africanism, and its influence on a new cycle in the Sahel.

Today, the Sahel has a little more media presence than usual. On the one hand, we have the clashes between armed groups of different characteristics and the armies of Burkina Faso, Mali and Niger and, on the other, the fact that the governments of these three countries have broken with the regional structures of neo-colonial matrix and have created the Confederation of the Alliance of Sahel States (AES).

In Burkina Faso, the current military government is claiming more than ever the figure of the revolutionary President Thomas Sankara, who led profound transformations in all areas of social life. The August Revolution (1983-87) ended suddenly with the assassination of Sankara. For the next 27 years Blaise Compaoré governed, putting the country back in the hands of neo-colonialism.

Germaine Pitroipa, whom we were able to interview at her home in Ouagadougou, played an important role during the revolution in Burkina Faso. She also has a strong opinion on current affairs in her country. She was a militant of the Union of Communist Struggles of Burkina Faso (ULC) when the seizure of power was being organized. She was later a government delegate in the province of Oubritenga and a counselor at the embassy of her country in France.

When the people stand up, imperialism trembles.

– Thomas Sankara


The peoples of Mali and Niger are our neighbors, our brothers. It is therefore no surprise that these three countries met to create the Alliance of Sahel States (AES).

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Thomas Sankara

While revolutionaries as individuals can be murdered, you cannot kill ideas.

– Thomas Sankara


Today we see many eyes fixed on the Sahel region. How do you think it has reached such a critical level of conflict?

Today we are paying the price for what, for many years, the government of Burkina Faso accepted. Our country became the refuge of armed groups that commit their crimes elsewhere. Blaise Compaoré accepted it for 27 years, and wanted us – the Burkinabe people – to believe that it had nothing to do with us. Considering the respect that Thomas Sankara had for other peoples, it is a pity that for so many years he acted as if nothing had happened. A misfortune in Bamako must also be a misfortune in Ouagadougou. Every Burkinabè must be shocked when his neighbor, his brother, is touched. The people of Mali and Niger are our neighbors, our brothers. It is therefore no surprise that these three countries met to create the Alliance of Sahel States (AES).

The Union of Sahel States is a new confederation to reshape the geopolitical situation in West Africa

In your opinion, is the Alliance of Sahel States a useful tool to address the problems shared by its member countries?

I think that, at least in terms of military and strategic cooperation, it is the best solution. Armed groups move seamlessly between the three countries, so you have to respond in a coordinated way.This alliance allows us to go after them where they are, without waiting for them to come and provoke us.We are actively confronting them, because this is our home.They can come, if they want, as human beings.But if they come as murderers, we will evict them from our country.It will not be easy. This insecurity will surely demand some more sacrifices from us. But we are prepared to make them.The Burkinabè people are used to the harshness of life, and if it is for our happiness, we are ready to give everything so that future generations will not have to live the same.

The AES was born as a structure to address regional issues. Do you think it should go beyond that?

First of all, we have to understand that we are interdependent, these three countries.The artificial borders imposed on us do not correspond to reality.For example, I was born in Dosso, Niger.Near the border between Niger and Burkina Faso.My parents lived in Niger for many years.I also have nephews and nieces in Mali, from a Burkinabe mother and a Malian father.Who more and who less, we all have family on the other side of the borders of these two countries. The AES must strengthen these links and allow us to live in peace. What we call Pan-Africanism is natural between Burkina Faso, Mali and Niger.This alliance must allow these three peoples to become one.This was one of the wishes that Thomas Sankara always had.

How did you meet Thomas Sankara and why did he make such a strong impression on you?

We were introduced by a mutual friend, Valère Somé. Somé was the leader of the Union of Communist Struggles (ULC), of which I was also a member. We were united by the struggle. Thomas from the military level, we from the civilian level. When I was studying at the university, I was part of the Association of Students of Ouagadougou (AEEO) and, later, I went to study in France and joined the General Union of Voltaic Students (UGEV). But I did not want to continue spreading revolutionary ideas from the banks of the Seine and I returned to my country with the intention of putting these ideas into practice. Thanks to Thomas, we were able to do so. When I returned in 1979, Thomas Sankara and Valère Somé were already close friends. For me, they were two geniuses. One military, one civilian. And it was thanks to this alliance that all the work necessary to make the revolution of August 4, 1983 possible could be carried out.

What was, for you, the greatest contribution of the revolutionary process that began on that date?

August 4 was an exceptional and novel experience that demonstrated that there was an alternative to the development model that had been imposed on us. Endogenous development allowed us to rely on our own strengths so that we would not have to continually reach out to the outside.He who feeds you always dictates what you must do.The development model promoted by the revolution was based on what we have in our territory: we consume what we produce and we produce what we want to consume.It is also with this logic that the Popular Development Program was designed. During the first year of the revolution, with the active participation of the population, countless primary health care centers, pharmacies and vaccination centers were created. And under the slogan “one people, one school”, educational centers sprang up all over the territory.As High Commissioner of the province of Oubritenga, it was my role to coordinate many of these initiatives.

What was the role of the High Commissariat during the revolution?

We were the representatives of the revolutionary government in the provinces. Our role was above all to explain the lines of work of the revolution. And to explain the reasons why these lines of work were positive for the people. “A school in every village prevents children from having to travel kilometers to go to school, vaccination protects against diseases, etc.”. Was it an easy task? Not at all!Some customs were very difficult to change. There was some reluctance on the part of the traditional power structures. The revolution had come to establish a better social balance and the traditional chiefs were not allowed to dominate a population that was unarmed before them. There were traditional chiefs who were very close to the people, who welcomed the revolution, and others who chose to cling to their privileges. There was also reluctance at home. There were husbands who did not understand why we asked women to participate in the Works of Common Interest or in the Committees for the Defense of the Revolution. We were trying to convey simple messages. “Women, young people… Everyone can participate in the construction of this country.”

Comrades, there is no true social revolution without the liberation of women. May my eyes never see and my feet never take me to a society where half the people are held in silence. I hear the roar of women’s silence. I sense the rumble of their storm and feel the fury of their revolt.

– Thomas Sankara

The revolution and women’s liberation go together. We do not talk of women’s emancipation as an act of charity or out of a surge of human compassion. It is a basic necessity for the revolution to triumph. Women hold up the other half of the sky.

– Thomas Sankara


The revolution had come to establish a greater social balance and the traditional leaders were not allowed to dominate a population unarmed before them.

How did you react when Thomas Sankara was assassinated, only four years after the start of the revolution?

At that time I was first counselor at the Burkina Faso Embassy in Paris. When Thomas died, and with him the revolution, I saw no reason either to return to Burkina or to continue working in his embassy. And since I was there with my whole family, I became what we call a voluntary exile.Nevertheless, I did my best to keep in touch with the comrades who remained in Burkina Faso. To achieve this, I had to make several clandestine trips, crossing several border posts with the help of people who were fond of our revolution.It was not until the insurrection of 2014, with the flight of Blaise Compaoré, that I began to return regularly to Burkina.

After three decades of impunity, on April 2022, the judgment for the assassination of Thomas Sankara was handed down. How did you experience the judicial process?

This trial allowed me to meet Thomas again.It allowed me to release everything that I had been holding in my being. We already knew what happened when he was killed, we didn’t need a trial to make it clear. But seeing how those who killed him had to face their own responsibility reassured me. It made me feel that Thomas is not dead. True, physically he has been murdered, but for me it was like seeing him resurrected. Personally, it allowed me to do my grieving. Until that moment it was as if it hadn’t really happened. I accept his absence better than before. Because the truth is that I had a hard time accepting that Thomas is no longer with us, and that he would never be again.

In spite of everything, nowadays the name of Thomas Sankara is more present than ever and more and more people are claiming him. How are you living this reality?

In all areas there is something to learn from Thomas.In all areas he left us a path to follow.I hope that the current authorities will be inspired by this.There is always, always, always something to do for this town.Thomas dreamed so much of this happiness, that he decided to ignore all the dangers around him.He said that we make mistakes every morning, but we must make sure that none of them are fatal to the Burkinabè people.I am proud to have contributed, with Thomas, to this four-year experience.And as long as the people of Burkina Faso suffe, Thomas Sankara’s ideas will live on. He once told us: “If one day I am not here, you must continue.I don’t want anyone, out of pride, to meet me again”. And well, may we succeed, at least, in keeping his memory intact and may the new generations know that this person existed, and that his name was Thomas.

You cannot carry out fundamental change without a certain amount of madness. In this case, it comes from nonconformity, the courage to turn your back on the old formulas, the courage to invent the future. It took the madmen of yesterday for us to be able to act with extreme clarity today. I want to be one of those madmen. We must dare to invent the future.

– Thomas Sankara


https://libya360.wordpress.com/2024/10/ ... ain-valid/

The Union of Sahel States: Strategic Geopolitical Shifts
Posted by Internationalist 360° on July 9, 2024
Habib Lassoud

A common alliance to confront Western influence

The Union of Sahel States is a new confederation to reshape the geopolitical situation in West Africa


At the Mahatma Gandhi Center in the Nigerian capital Niamey, the establishment of the Sahel Confederation, which includes Niger, Mali and Burkina Faso, was officially announced, underscoring the level of strategic and geopolitical shifts taking place in the Sahel in the context of what observers consider an uprising against French colonialism, both direct before independence and indirect after the establishment of the national state, which remained locked in the will of the former colonizer through its local tools.

During the July 6 summit, the three leaders from their countries’ military institutions gave an overview of the geopolitical context of the West African sub-region, discussed the security situation in the NATO region, and, behind closed doors after the opening session, examined the operationalization of the Sahel Alliance as well as development issues.

With regard to the geopolitical context of the West African sub-region, for example, the Heads of State noted the grave responsibility of ECOWAS in the erosion of the values of fraternity, solidarity and cooperation among the states and peoples concerned. They welcomed their “immediate and irrevocable withdrawal” from ECOWAS and reaffirmed “the full sovereignty of each of the member states of the Sahel Alliance in strategic choices that contribute to the well-being of their peoples.”
The three leaders, Malian Colonel Assemi Guetta, Burkina Faso’s Captain Ibrahim Traoré and Niger’s General Abdulrahman Chiani, launched a new phase of cooperation between their countries in the context of building a confederation, which in the concepts of international politics represents an association whose members are independent sovereign states that delegate, by prior agreement, some powers to a joint body or bodies to coordinate their policies in a number of areas without this grouping constitutes a state or entity, otherwise it becomes another form called federalism.

A confederation respects the principle of the international sovereignty of its members. In international law, a confederation is formed through a treaty that can only be amended by the unanimous consent of its members. In modern politics, a confederation is a permanent union of sovereign states to act jointly in relation to other states, usually starting with a treaty but often resorting later to the adoption of a common constitution.

Observers point to the importance of the outcomes of the Niamey summit in enshrining the new reality that has begun to impose itself in the West African region, which cannot ignore its expected effects on the countries of the north and center of the continent, especially since the Union of Sahel States shares borders with three prominent Arab countries, namely Mauritania, Algeria and Libya, and has a strategic cooperation plan with the Kingdom of Morocco, which is related to the Atlantic window as a tool for broader openness to the world.

Observers add that the Union of Sahelian States carries on its shoulders a number of important issues and files, including the war on terrorism, regaining control over national resources, reshaping the geopolitical map of the region by working to uproot the French role, rearranging relations with Western countries according to the interests of those countries, moving to form strategic political, security and cultural partnerships with Russia, developing economic cooperation with China and linking strong relations with the BRICS countries.

During the Niamey summit, Niger’s President General Abdourahmane Chiani spoke of what he described as the “strong determination” of the heads of state to restore the sovereignty of their countries, with “this strong alliance” representing the Salvation Army. He highlighted that in its future structure, the alliance will have a mission beyond the war against terrorism, which is to combat insurgency, armed banditry and any aggression from abroad, as “in order to support the realization of its ambitions and missions, special emphasis will be placed on food security and economic and monetary independence. These actions will be supported by enhanced interconnectivity (roads, airlines, extractive industries, etc.) within the Joint Air Service.”

During their first summit on July 6, 2024 in Niamey, Niger, the CEN-SAD heads of state focused on the geopolitical context of the West African region, according to the summit’s final communiqué, and recalled the grave responsibility of ECOWAS for the erosion of the values of brotherhood, solidarity and cooperation among the countries and peoples concerned.

The three leaders emphasized the harmful impact of illegal, illegitimate and inhumane sanctions and threats of aggression against a sovereign state, and commended the resilience of the populations of the three Sahel Union countries which was decisive in lifting the sanctions imposed by the West African Economic and Monetary Union (UEMOA) at the instigation of ECOWAS.

They also welcomed the immediate and irrevocable withdrawal from ECOWAS. They reaffirmed the full sovereignty of each member state of the Sahel Union in strategic choices that contribute to the well-being of its population. Among the decisions announced at the Niamey summit were the creation of an investment bank and stabilization fund for the Sahel Union countries, the heads of state instructed ministers to implement an effective communication strategy to provide healthy information to the population through increased use of national languages in public and private media, and approved the creation of accredited digital platforms supported by a narrative in line with the aspirations of the people.

Regarding the free movement of people and goods, the Heads of State instructed the relevant Ministers to urgently prepare additional draft protocols in this regard in order to deal with the implications associated with the withdrawal of countries from ECOWAS.

Presidents Guetta, Traoré and Tchiani decided to pay special attention to social cohesion, stability, youth, sports, culture, education, vocational training, employment and health, and agreed to hold the next session of the College in 2025 on a date to be determined by mutual agreement.

The heads of state stressed the need to pool their resources to implement the structuring and integration of projects in strategic sectors, particularly agriculture and food security, water and environment, energy and mining, trade and industrial processing, infrastructure and transportation, telecommunications and telecommunications, free movement of people and goods, and the digital economy.

Regional analysts expect the next phase to witness the launch of a number of unified institutions, including the Central Bank of the Sahel Union countries, which means the launch of a new single currency for the three countries.

“Our forces are now planning an offensive posture … and it is clear that fear has changed,” Malian President Colonel Assemi Guetta said, adding in his speech during the summit that the security dimension that led to the establishment of the Union of Sahel States has been taken care of perfectly by the defense and security forces of the member states that work in full integration in the face of terrorist attacks, he said, stressing that those forces are now planning an offensive posture to neutralize these outlawed groups.

“The commitment and determination of our men and women to fight makes us proud, especially in light of the undeniable decrease in insecurity in the Union area, and today, it is clear that fear has changed. Proof of this is that we regularly witness acts of surrender by terrorist elements who lay down their arms in front of our national armies,” he said, adding that “the establishment of the Joint Sahel Union Force in March 2024 is a symbol of our unity of action and our determination to protect our populations together and preserve our sovereignty.”

Burkina Faso President Captain Ibrahim Traoré denounced the “images of independence granted to African countries in the 1960s”, followed by the looting of natural resources and terrorism, and spoke of what he described as the deep meaning of the new revolution that aims only to give their countries real independence and their populations real development.



Despite manipulation of all kinds and misinformation practiced by the enemies of the people, Captain Ibrahim Traoré insisted that “we will not tremble, we will face, while rejoicing in the solidarity gained within the common space,” and noted that the commitment that prevailed at the creation of the Sahel Alliance on September 16, 2023 will never weaken.

Traoré said that this summit “represents a decisive step for the future of our common space.” “Together, we will consolidate the foundations of our true independence, a guarantee of true peace and sustainable development through the creation of the CEN-SAD union,” he said, noting that the Sahara region is full of enormous natural potential that, if properly exploited, will ensure a better future for the peoples of Niger, Mali and Burkina Faso.
The signing of the Liptako-Gourma Pact sealed the collective decision taken by the heads of state to fight terrorism, Guetta said, referring to the agreement signed by the three leaders on September 17, when they approved a new military pact and formed a defense and security alliance among the three countries, which they called the Liptako-Gourma Pact, a reference to the border area shared by the three countries.
The agreement renewed the commitment to protect the sovereignty and security of the signatory states and stated in its preamble that its main purpose is to establish a common defense system among the allied countries against terrorism, violence and crime in the Sahel region.

Guetta emphasized that the combined efforts of the armies of the three countries in tracking down armed terrorist groups have yielded tangible results, and announced the implementation of innovative and effective measures in the sectors of transportation, economy, communications, culture and mines for the benefit of the people of the Union of Sahelian States, stressing the firm determination of the heads of state to make the Sahel Alliance a model of cooperation in all fields.

In addition to the final communiqué, the summit decided to adopt the Niamey Declaration, read at the closing session by the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Cooperation and Nigerians Abroad, Bakary Yaw Sangare, in which the heads of state reaffirmed their adherence to the principles and objectives enshrined in the UN Charter, the ideals, principles and objectives of the African Union and African unity inspired by the historical traditions and values of African civilization. With reference to the Liptako-Gourma Charter establishing the Alliance of Sahelian States, signed on September 16, 2023 in Ouagadougou, Bamako and Niamey, the Heads of State stressed the need to add the areas of defense and security provided for in this agreement, and to unify the paths of diplomacy and development taking into account the desire of the countries of the Union to lead a common and effective fight against terrorism in the Sahel region in general and in the Liptako-Gourma region in particular.

The heads of state said they are determined to move forward in “rebuilding our nations based on our historical social and cultural values to create a new type of citizen to promote virtuous governance that serves the exclusive interests of our peoples, creating a sovereign space for security, peace and prosperity.” They expressed their desire to ensure sustainable development by implementing “a domestic economic and social policy based on our own resources and a partnership that respects our sovereignty with an emphasis on inclusive multilateralism that respects the sovereignty and mutual interests of our nations to achieve sustainable development,” and contribute to international peace and security, justice and development. They also pledged to coordinate their diplomatic moves with the aim of unifying their positions and speaking with one voice in the international arena.



Thus, the leaders of the Sahelian Arab Alliance decided to create the Sahelian Alliance Union and provide the union with its own tools to finance their economic and social policy. They also decided to set up mechanisms aimed at facilitating the free movement of people, goods and services within the union area.

Mali was chosen by the summit participants to assume the rotating presidency of the organization, given that the winds of protest against the old political system in place in the Sahel region were launched from it, and then turned into a whirlwind of popular uprisings carried by the people in the dynamic of breaking with the past and seeking to assert sovereignty and independence of the national decision. Thus, the head of Mali’s transition, Colonel Assemi Guetta, was appointed to implement the first decisions to complete the institutional structure of the new organization as he was the first to lead the country by consecrating the power of the army in Bamako and the first to issue the decision to sever relations with the colonial power Algeria, which is the first to sever relations with the colonial power.

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https://libya360.wordpress.com/2024/07/ ... al-shifts/
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Post by blindpig » Fri Oct 18, 2024 2:05 pm

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Imperialism and Africa
ImperialismAfricaNewswire

ROAPE’s Ray Bush introduces Volume 51 Issue 181 of the journal, a special 50th anniversary issue on imperialism and Africa. The role of imperialism in undermining African sovereignty and independence has been a recurrent theme in ROAPE since the journal’s first issue editorial back in 1974. Here, Bush interrogates what imperialism is, how it may have changed over time, and with what consequences.

The issue features contributions from Ndongo Samba Sylla on French imperialism and military coups, Hannah Cross on imperialism, labour and migration, Lyn Ossome on imperialism and crises of social reproduction, Matteo Capasso and Essam Elkorghli on imperialist terrorism in North Africa, Luke Sinwell on South African scholar-activism, and founding editor Peter Lawrence on knowledge production for liberation. Together, the articles examine the structural underpinning to the world economy that produces and reproduces inequality, poverty, war and famine.

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It is an irony of history that coercion, which is so effective that it can afford to be silent, is scarcely recognised as such; it is only on occasions when its effectiveness is diminished to a point where it has to come out in the ugliest of colours that its reality begins to strike us. The deafening silence about imperialism … is thus a reflection of the extraordinary strength and vigour it is displaying at present.

Prabhat Patnaik, ‘Whatever Has Happened to Imperialism?’1

This 50th anniversary issue of the Review of African Political Economy (ROAPE) focuses on imperialism in the African context and beyond. It reminds readers of the structural underpinning to the world economy that produces and reproduces inequality, poverty, war and famine and yet is omitted from almost all analysis of Africa. This editorial interrogates what imperialism is, how it may have changed, and with what consequences. We do this by exploring some of the recurrent themes that ROAPE and its authors have advanced over 50 years of academic activist engagement with Africa’s political economy. Furthermore, this 50th anniversary issue deals specifically with the politics of knowledge production and how the journal managed to separate itself from a corporate publishing house to ensure free and genuinely open access for all its readers. The control of how knowledge is generated and access to it is facilitated is a key dimension of imperialism, and this journal contests this aspect of imperialist hegemony.

Our critical commentary on imperialism in this anniversary issue explores the crises of social reproduction and gender inequality that underpin late capitalism in crisis. We also examine the shifting debate about the international (imperialist) labour migration regime; French imperialism in West and Central Africa; and imperialist intervention in North Africa. In addition, the struggles for people’s power are examined with reference especially to South Africa. A founding editor reflects on why and how ROAPE emerged as a radical journal on African political economy and recent debate about knowledge production in and about Africa. There are also a number of reader reflections on the history of ROAPE, what the journal has meant to some activists, what ROAPE may have done reasonably well in the last 50 years and what it might do better.

Imperialism
Imperialism is a global system of surplus value extraction through unequal exchange between the North and the Third World. Surplus value is distributed unequally determined by class, race and gender and the power of the imperial triad of the United States, the European Union and Japan (Amin 1974; Harb 2024, 15). Capital does not leave any part of the globe untouched: capitalism as a global system subjugates, and the ‘subjugation of the people of the periphery … is an integral part of its modus operandi’ (Patnaik and Patnaik 2017, 141). Historical capitalism is a global phenomenon in which imperialism is embedded. This argument was part of a fundamental contribution made by Samir Amin which featured in ROAPE’s first issue (1974). Amin’s model of global accumulation of capital highlighted two patterns of development. First, in capitalism’s centre, where the dominant economic activity tries to satisfy mass consumer needs and the demand for production goods. Second, there are peripheral systems dominated by the production (and limited import) of luxury goods and exports restricted and shaped by the lack of an internal market (ibid., 9). Accumulation of capital in the core often enlisted the complicity of its working class in helping to subordinate peripheral capitalism and, in the process, among other things produced a racialised and racist view of the world: the rational and efficient North versus an undeveloped, lazy and indolent South. This global system is therefore polarising but it is not immutable (Amin 2019). The core—periphery structure is mediated by a range of classes that include in the core an imperialist bourgeoise and a proletariat; and in the periphery a dependent bourgeoisie and a working class, but also socially differentiated peasantries and persistent non-capitalist modes of production. These themes were discussed at length as part of a dedicated ROAPE issue on the work of Samir Amin (Kvangraven et al. 2021).

Amin developed Lenin’s theory of imperialism that was characterised by the dominance of the export of capital by nineteenth-century monopolies in chemicals, engineering manufactures and trade (Lenin 1975). Lenin’s view was that imperialism was shaped by the historical tendency of the concentration and centralisation of capital and it was the highest stage of capitalism. Weary of definitions for being unable to embrace the historical complexities of social, political and economic processes, Lenin nevertheless argued that imperialism had five basic features:

1) the concentration of production and capital has developed to such a high stage that it has created monopolies which play a decisive role in economic life; 2) the merging of bank capital with industrial capital, and the creation, on the basis of this ‘finance capital’, of a financial oligarchy; 3) the export of capital as distinguished from the export of commodities acquires exceptional importance; 4) the formation of international monopolist capitalist associations, which share the world among themselves and 5) the territorial division of the whole world among the biggest capitalist powers is completed. (Lenin 1975, 106)

While it is often overlooked, one of Lenin’s enduring legacies was ‘the tremendous significance of Africa in both the global political economy and the struggle for human freedom’ (Pateman 2022, 300; see also Joffre-Eichhorn and Anderson 2024).

The mechanics of imperialism and the role of some of its main actors have changed since the turn of the twentieth century. The ‘territorial division of the whole world among the biggest capitalist powers’ for example has been challenged by struggles for national liberation and decolonisation yet, as Samir Amin often noted, the importance of Marxism was its method of analysis and action, not ‘as a group of propositions drawn from use of that method’ (Amin 2019, 405). His theory of imperialism in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries was still shaped by the monopolies of the imperial triad in weapons of mass destruction, technology, financial flows and their control, planetary resources, communications and their infrastructure (see also Abdel-Malek 2008 [1977]). But the dominance of these monopolies has shifted towards the management of war and waste. As we note below, imperialism continues to be a structural relationship where unequal exchange ensures value added to the economies of the triad. This follows the continued asymmetry between tropical and temperate regions where Northern capitalism relies on the access to commodities that it cannot produce, where it does not (yet) have substitutes, tropical fruits and vegetables, edible oils and fibres and where production depends on small-scale farmers and the persistence of pre-capitalist relations of production (Patnaik and Patnaik 2017, 147). And there is a recent increase in the role played by artisanal small-scale miners in accessing rare metals, cobalt and lithium in the Democratic Republic of Congo for Western clean energy and transport infrastructures (Radley 2023).

This asymmetry has two implications. First, obtaining a large range of goods that simply could not be produced in the temperate regions from the tropical landmass, and doing so in growing quantities because of capital accumulation, was, and remains, a perennial necessity for capitalism. And if increasing supply price is to be avoided, then there is no alternative to obtaining such goods at the expense of their local absorption. This, in short, remains a perennial feature of capitalism. (Patnaik and Patnaik 2017, 147)

This value transfer to Northern-based multinational corporations (MNCs) and financial-sector service and banking institutions results from among other things the payment of wage rates in Africa and elsewhere at less than the costs of social reproduction. The contemporary period, however, is driven less by capitalists crudely intensifying the rate of exploitation, lengthening working days and advancing ‘super exploitation’. Imperialism is now driven by especially U.S. financial and military class interests that seek to ameliorate the crisis of late capitalism by advancing a win—win strategy of waste production, militarism and war-related accumulation. War is now a market for the production and reproduction of imperial hegemony and a leading capitalist sector (Capasso and Kadri 2023).

Herein lies a partial explanation for the persistent role that force and violence plays in the subjugation of radical African voices and social movements. Accumulation by dispossession was seen by Marx as a (short-term) process at the early formative period of primitive accumulation. Yet it is a persistent and systemic feature of imperialism. Dispossession and control of local producers is a means by which global capitalism imposes income deflation on the periphery. In addition to promoting law and order, the securitisation of producers ensures that supplies of ‘tropical goods (and temperate goods in winter) can be obtained by the capitalist sector without any threat of an increasing supply price’ (Patnaik and Patnaik 2017, 148). The most compelling articles in the history of this journal have focused on historically shaped relations of the ‘central contradiction of imperialism and national and social revolutions’ (Abdel-Malek 2008 [1977], 129). These ‘revolutions’ go beyond particular accounts of social and political struggles for the liberation of South Africa, Angola, Mozambique, Guinea Bissau and Namibia, many of which have been reflected in some detail in ROAPE. Many critically engaged accounts with various struggles around resources, land and extractives, MNCs and financialisation have not prioritised a view of national liberation at their core. Yet the strengths of ROAPE are evident around the debates of imperialism and political struggles that have strived to counter the policies of local elites and metropolitan capitalist interests (Ajl 2018, 2021). Many articles may have been overfocused on narrative accounts of ‘big issues’—variously, corruption, economic reform (issue nos. 47 and 63), democracy (nos. 49 and 54), mining (nos. 12, 168 and 173), gender (no. 149), the environment (nos. 74 and 177—178) and religion (52).2 These themes have often been sandwiched too briefly in between analyses as to why the deleterious consequences of underdevelopment took the form that they did. ROAPE has not favoured a template of what struggles should and should not be supported in Africa but some of the most analytically engaged articles have explored elements of an agenda mapped in the ‘genuine dialectical pattern [of] inter-relations between hegemonic imperialism and anti-hegemonic national liberation movements’ (Abdel-Malek 2008 [1977], 129; in ROAPE see, inter alia, Allen 1995).

ROAPE and imperialism
A recurrent theme in ROAPE has been the role of imperialism in undermining African sovereignty and independence (inter alia, Zeilig 2014). The founding editors noted in the first editorial of the issue, in which Amin explained his theoretical model of accumulation and development:

This review is published with the express intent of providing a counterweight to that mass of literature on Africa which holds: that Africa’s continuing chronic poverty is primarily an internal problem and not a product of her colonial history and her present dependence; that the successful attraction of foreign capital and the consequent production within the confines of the international market will bring development; and that the major role in achieving development must be played by western-educated, ‘modernizing’ elites who will bring progress to the ‘backward’ masses. (ROAPE 1974, 1, emphasis added)

The editorial continued to indict leaders who inherited power at independence, confirming Frantz Fanon’s description of them as ‘spoilt children of yesterday’s colonialism and of today’s national governments’. The founding editors of ROAPE promised a journal that would be dedicated to the task of:

understanding, and countering, the debilitating consequences of a capitalism which stems from external domination and exploitation and is combined with internal underdeveloped and equally exploitative structures. … Class analysis should also be indicating the prospects for transformation and in particular isolating the class alliances that will have to be generated and the approach to their struggle with the entrenched interests maintaining underdevelopment (ROAPE 1974, 7—8).

The 1970s were heady years of optimistic engagement with national liberation movements, offering solidarity and support for struggles against South African racism and victory against Portuguese fascism in Lisbon and its forced removal from lusophone Africa. Early issues of the journal were thus inflections on the rise of new capitalist dynamics of transnational capital, the roles and impact of multinational corporations, debates on neo-colonialism and the state (issue nos. 2 to 5) and whether there was capitalism in Africa (nos. 8, 14, 22 and 23), and intense debate about liberation in southern Africa (nos. 11 and 18).

Self-criticism by the editorial working group (see, for example, issue no. 32 from 1985) was often evident in early issues—something that diminished in the pages of later volumes. Early optimism of engagement with revolutionary moments of struggle was replaced and very soon overtaken by the crisis of late capitalism and its calamitous impact throughout the continent. ROAPE has been focused almost continuously on analysing the crisis of capitalism and the different dimensions of how imperialism has subordinated chances for progressive movements and sovereignty. Many early issues thus centred on structural adjustment, poverty reduction papers and the role that the World Bank and International Monetary Fund played in imposing the will of international capital in Africa. The declared early self-importance of ROAPE’s initial suggestion of its role in ‘devising strategy for Africa’s revolution’ gave way to developing critiques of capitalism and its slump, the restructuring that followed in the 1980s and 1990s and the enhanced role of the imperial triad in setting parameters for African liberation. The journal was also keen, in its retrospect and prospect after 10 years of publishing, to explore ‘which classes constitute friends and enemies of [the] revolutionary process’ (ROAPE 1985, issue no. 32, 6) in the struggle for socialism in Africa. Editors noted in the same issue that they had perhaps been ‘simplistic’ and ‘naively ambitious’ in seeing African development in terms of armed liberation struggle or neo-colonialism. Nevertheless, there has always been an optimism regarding how socialism can be developed and by which social forces (inter alia, issue numbers 139 (2014); 69 (1996); 77 (1998); 96 (2003); 127 (2011); and 155 (2018)).

ROAPE has reported on the shifts in the character of imperialism since the early 1970s (issue nos. 32 (1985); 38 (1987); 50 (1991); 66 (1995); 77 (1998); 80 (1999); 95 (2003); 102 (2004); 103 (2005); 104/105 (2005); 113 (2007); and 132 (2012)). It has done so mostly to explore the impact of imperialism, which big issues have highlighted capitalism in crisis, and how it is evidenced in Africa. In doing this the journal’s archive is a stockpile of academic and activist reportage on Africa’s struggles with class forces that mostly emanate from the global core but are not always reducible to it. In other words, ROAPE contributors have explored not simply the dynamics of imperialism from the global North but also how capital accumulation under imperialism has been historically mediated by African classes. As Bracking and Harrison noted in ROAPE issue 95,

clearly capitalism continues its expansion and deepening across and within space, but its social forms are diverse and historically-constituted, not derivative of a form of ‘metropolitan’ capitalism, no matter how strongly they might be influenced by the latter. (Bracking and Harrison 2003, 7, emphasis in original)

Bracking and Harrison put paid to any notion that became popular among bourgeois commentators after the fall of the Berlin Wall: that there was a post-imperial world order. They listed five ongoing features of imperialism noted by Fred Halliday (2002) which were similar to the analysis of Amin regarding the inexorable expansion of capitalism as a socio-economic system on a world scale: the role of capitalist competition, the continuous drive for expansion and resulting war, and persistent reproduction of inequalities on a world scale (Bracking and Harrison 2003, 7). It is important to note that imperialism is not simply or cannot be reduced to territorial control or occupation by economically powerful states—although that also continues, and powerful U.S. economic interests do imperil African sovereignty. Imperialism ‘is not, and has never been, a static and unchanging reality of power and domination’ (Wai 2014, 491). It has a powerful ideological underpinning that elevates Western culture and history as being universally hegemonic and in so doing continues Western post-Second World War racialised modernisation theory: that the West shows itself as an exemplar to Africa to help it emulate a particular pattern of modernity. While there have been continuities in how imperialism plays out, not just in Africa, there have also been several important discontinuities and of course resistance to it. Put simply, the U.S. has difficulty in maintaining global hegemony in the twenty-first century.

There is now ‘a period of flux for imperialism’ (Ghosh 2021, 9). U.S. hegemony is challenged by its defeats in Afghanistan and Iraq. And while the U.S. is chastened by the Ukraine political leadership for stalling and not immediately meeting demands for materiel, it may be that elites in Washington desire to extend and deepen the consequences of Russia’s ‘special military operation’ for as long as it can—and benefit financially in the process. War is good for business. The U.S. is certainly keen in its support for genocide in Palestine and critical of South Africa’s leading role in the case brought against Israel in the International Criminal Court. The presence of U.S. military in West Africa is also challenged in Niger, where Washington has been forced to withdraw more than 1,000 military personnel (Tait 2024). This does not mean that the global system and financial architecture of capitalism is immediately imperilled, although the rise of the BRICS bloc of nations is often written up in that way (inter alia, Chakraborty 2018; Chatterjee and Naka 2022; Duggan, Ladines Azalia and Rewizorski 2022). Neither does it mean that U.S. militarism is less evident or violent, either directly or through its proxies. And it also does not immediately imply that African states can easily and quickly develop sovereign national projects. It means, instead, that opposition and resistance to U.S. economic and military intervention are intense; that imperialism does not easily meet the interests of large financial capital; and that the ideological mask of the U.S. (and EU)—in promoting growth in Africa, and elsewhere, while declaring concern for poverty reduction—has been exposed as a patronising agenda of self-justification and the status quo. It has also meant a more expansive and broader definition of imperialist interest in advancing control over economic territory. Attempts to generalise control over African resources, often in competition with China, have accelerated in the twenty-first century, and so too has the capitalist impulse to commodify all aspects of human activity, including basic amenities and social services (Ghosh 2021, 10).

Imperialism and war
Mainstream discourse about Africa, poverty, conflict and war continues to invest hope and support for Western investment to resolve the contemporary continental debt and financial crisis. The African Development Bank notes a number of recent external shocks—conflict in Ukraine, post- Covid-19 recovery and subdued global growth—as having an impact on Africa’s economic performance. The horrors of the continent’s economic and social malaise are much reported and of course heavily felt by workers and farmers in Africa. The average debt to GDP ratio in sub-Saharan Africa ‘almost doubled in just a decade—from 30% at the end of 2013 to almost 60% … by the end of 2022’ (Comeli et al. 2023). But since 2010 public debt in sub-Saharan Africa has more than tripled—it is now in excess of US$1.14 trillion (World Bank 2023). Countries have tried to finance the difficulty in providing even modest public service provision by increasing public debt. That has led to historically high fiscal crises of the state—the gap between income and expenditure. More worrying, however, is the composition of sub-Saharan Africa’s debt. After the 2008 financial crisis, African countries were encouraged to borrow at much higher rates of interest than was hitherto the case and to borrow from private lenders. An increasing and higher element of the continent’s debt is now owed to private equity investors and banks than has ever hitherto been the case. The move away from bilateral and multilateral borrowing is more costly and precarious, with heavy penalties for default. In eastern and southern Africa, for example, the private sector now accounts for at least 19% of regional financing as countries secure funds from international markets by issuing bonds, as has been the case in Kenya and Rwanda (Prasad, Sedlo and Allen Massingue 2022). Foreign capital continues to be seen as a panacea to supplement African domestic investments’ liquidity, but servicing external debts often requires further borrowing which keeps the financial system in place (Sylla and Sundaram 2024). A counter to this has been Chinese financing for development, a worry for the international financial institutions as they have little accurate knowledge of the extent of this, and, unlike Western donors, China does not impose conditionalities on its lending and debt relief. In April 2024 China cancelled an unspecified amount of Zimbabwe’s interest-free loans. Harare remains ineligible for financial support from the international financial institutions for a number of reasons, including default in the 2000s and U.S. pressure to open the economy. Zimbabwe owed at least US$12.7 billion of its total public debt of US$17.7 billion to external creditors. While mainstream critics repeated the mantra that China will increase its political leverage over Zimbabwe, China’s ambassador to Zimbabwe noted that the ‘loans are not intended to foster dependency but to strengthen bilateral relations and economic cooperation’ (Buyisiwe 2024).

The increased cost and precarity for borrowing undermine any wishful notion that UN Sustainable Development Goals may be even partially met (African Union et al. 2023). More than 282 million people in Africa (20% of the population) were undernourished in 2022—an increase of 57 million people since the start of the Covid-19 pandemic. At least 868 million people were moderately or severely food insecure and more than 342 million were severely food insecure. The majority of Africa’s population in 2021, about 78%, could not afford a healthy diet—compared with 42% at the global level. The cost of securing a healthy diet has been increasing: it was estimated at 3.57 purchasing power parity (PPP) dollars a day in 2021 in Africa—higher than the threshold for extreme poverty, which is seen to be 2.15 PPP dollars a day (FAO et al. 2023, v).

Despite the relentlessly gloomy evidence for Africa’s economic and social outlook the African Development Bank insists that while the continent’s ‘growth momentum’ is stalled, because of ‘significant headwinds, Africa has also shown remarkable resilience’ (AfDB 2023, iii). The historically dominant tropes of the economic mainstream are repeated by the AfDB noting the continent’s stock of ‘huge natural wealth’ and the need for all stakeholders to ‘put in place all the necessary legal and fiscal apparatus’ to address ‘structural barriers to private investments’ in promoting ‘climate actions and green transitions’ and ‘to improve the management of their natural resources’ (AfDB 2023, iv).

The language and rhetoric of the international financial institutions and development agencies remain similar to those of the protagonists for continental economic reform in the disastrous lost development decades of the 1980s and 1990s. They argue that growth can be increased and sustained on the continent if private (foreign) investment can be encouraged by developing a more secure political environment to facilitate the easier removal to the global North of the continent’s natural resource base. This would be simpler if there was a reduction in ‘unresolved internal conflicts’ (AfDB 2023, 6). The mistake in such analyses is that conflict is seen to be local and national and usually shorn of any (colonial) historical past and context. The crisis of late imperialist capitalism is revealed most starkly in what Ali Kadri has called a ‘global waste phenomenon’. The evidence just mentioned for African debt and poverty, hunger and impoverishment is not accidental or the result of poor local policy, although there may be some of the latter. Africa’s impoverishment is the outcome of unequal development and is systemically entwined with the U.S.-driven imperialist system (Kadri 2023). Kadri notes that there are more ‘prematurely wasted people and pollution in evidence today than all the commodity wealth on display’:

Capital has become manifest as a system of relations whose activities have placed the planet beyond the point of no return. Global society is repressed and made to pay for and consume the waste. Standard theory says that the use values of commodities are stripped away from their social producers and sold. Since the heap of harmful commodities, the waste, is way higher than the heap of useful or sane commodities, waste products are also stripped away from social producers and sold back to them. (Kadri and Leukefeld 2024, 146)

Ali Kadri’s argument draws attention to the need to understand the changing historical character of capitalism and to how explanations of the contemporary African crisis can only be fully understood in how centuries of value extraction have generated impoverishment on the continent. Profits create waste, and costs of dealing with waste are borne by society. In Africa the costs of social reproduction are so suppressed that often only bare life is possible and destitution is widespread. Impoverishment in Africa feeds the economic and social reproduction of the North.

There is here a continuity in Lenin’s theory of imperialism, namely the persistent role that war plays in resolving contradictions of financial capitalism:

Given the phenomenon of waste, we know for a fact that capitalism commodifies all forms of life, like water, trash, and even human lives. With so many wasted lives, people dying before their time, and wasted nature being produced, commodified and priced, and also sold for profits in their own market gestation time, the militarism as a domain of accumulation … has evolved into the primary domain for the whole capitalist system. (Kadri and Leukefeld 2024, 148)

This argument is borne out in the evidence for increased military spending, the genocidal imperialist war in Palestine and the role of Israel’s meddling in Africa generally and the war in Sudan in particular. World military expenditure rose for a ninth consecutive year in 2022 to an all-time high of US$2.4 trillion. For the first time, in 2023 military expenditure rose in all geographical regions and the U.S. is the major spender and supplier of weapons. U.S. military spending in 2023 rose by 2.3% to US$916 billion, representing 68% of NATO military spending (SIPRI 2024). In Africa the biggest military spenders are the Democratic Republic of Congo with an increase of 105% in 2022 and South Sudan with an increase of 78% compared with 2022. Algeria’s military spending grew by 76% to US$18.3 billion—the largest level of expenditure ever recorded in the country, made possible by increased revenue from hydrocarbon exports after the Ukraine crisis. War is at the heart of imperialism. Capitalists gain from profits generated in the process of war—militarism generates demand—and the class actors gaining from higher profits increase their power and influence on decision-making in the imperialist triad. War also reduces life expectancy relative to its potential. In stark terms, Kadri notes, ‘It is the shorter life expectancy of the South relative to the North, which becomes the benchmark that signifies the divergence between the moneyed form of Northern wealth relative to its Southern counterpart’ (Kadri and Leukefeld 2024, 162).

‘We are all Palestinians…’
Devaluing human life in war, or more accurately genocide, is most recently evident in Palestine. Nelson Mandela (1997) was clear that ‘we know too well that our freedom is incomplete without the freedom of the Palestinians.’ Israel’s military spending in 2023 reached US$27.5 billion as it bombed Gaza after the Hamas attack in October 2023, killing indiscriminately more than 38,000 Palestinians (mostly civilians) in the following nine months. The accumulated effect of the genocide, however, is estimated to be more than 186,000 deaths. This figure for Palestinian deaths caused by Israel highlights the indirect health implications beyond the direct harm of violence taking account of those who have not been recovered from under the rubble of bombing, the indirect results of the destruction of Gaza’s health facilities, food distribution and other public provision (Khatib, McKee and Yusuf 2024). The genocide is an imperialist war. It is a stark example of how settler colonial Israel continues to try and separate people of Asia from the African masses generating the spoils of war for Washington and European elites. ‘Israeli aggression is itself a rudimentary step in global capital accumulation, that is, it adds to accumulation by militarism on a global scale; it will not cease’ (American Friends Service Committee 2023; Kadri and Leukefeld 2024, 150).

Israel, pound for pound, is the best investment the U.S. has ever made. Israel is the purest expression of Western power, combining militarism, imperialism, settler colonialism, counterinsurgency, occupation, racism, instilling ideological defeat, huge profitable war-making and hi-tech development into a manticore of destruction, death, and mayhem. (Ajl 2024a, 3)

Since the early years of the construction of the state of Israel the U.S. has viewed the settler colony as a vehicle for advancing Washington’s regional and strategic interests. As U.S. President Joe Biden noted in 1986 and subsequently repeated, ‘if there were not an Israel, we’d have to invent one’ (Ayyash 2023). This was first evident in the 1956 attack on Egypt with the Tripartite Agreement and then with arming the state in its war against Egypt and other frontline states. Israel has from its inception persistently interfered in Africa with military, economic and social mechanisms to undermine sovereignty and promote authoritarianism and violence, advancing imperialist interests and militarisation (Dowling 2023). Tel Aviv helped in the proxy war and sanctions against Libya (Capasso 2020, 2022) and has long acted as trainer for African armed forces, notably special forces and presidential guards in, for example, Equatorial Guinea and Uganda. Although Israel may only account for 1% of weapons transfers to sub-Saharan Africa, small arms weapons and armoured vehicles feature significantly. They were allegedly important during the Rwandan genocide, and Israel plays a significant role as a broker in facilitating arms transfers to the continent. Israel, with a reputation for ‘loose export norms’ (Dowling 2023), has not ratified the Arms Trade Treaty and it has three offices of the Israeli Weapons Industries in Africa—the largest for any continent. Israel remains secretive about its arms deals but there is evidence for deals with Angola, Equatorial Guinea, Cameroon, Chad, Lesotho, Rwanda, Uganda, Nigeria and the Central Africa Republic (Wezeman 2011). Israel also offered to supply nuclear weapons to apartheid South Africa in 1975 (McGreal 2010).

Sudan
The genocide in Palestine may have pushed war in Sudan off the media agenda. However, there was little reportage or international concern to reduce the conflict even before Israel’s destruction of Gaza. This is despite famine in Sudan being mapped long before its impact in April 2024. Sudan has the world’s largest number of people facing acute food shortage, with mortality projections in June 2024 to be in excess of 2.5 million, or about 15% of the population in Darfur and Kordofan (Borger 2024; Medani 2024). More than 11 million people have been displaced within the country or become refugees especially but not only in neighbouring Chad. The UN has noted that war has created the world’s biggest internal displacement, leading to an acute crisis of food access and production affecting more than 25 million people (half the population), as violence has destroyed livelihoods and access to income, disrupted farming, and in 2023 reduced food production by an estimated 46% (OCHA 2024). The war in Sudan has rather inappropriately been labelled ‘war between generals’ (Ahmed and Johnson 2024), as fighting erupted in April 2023 between soldiers loyal to the head of the armed forces, General Abdel Fattah al-Burnhan, the de facto ruler at the time, and General Mohamed Hamdan Dagalo, known as Hemedti, who is head of the Rapid Support Forces (RSF), which combines a number of different militia. The successful toppling of the government of dictator Omar al-Bashir in 2019, after 26 years in office, failed to consolidate or promote democratic deepening and transition to sustained representative politics. Opposition forces were frequently frustrated by remnants of al-Bashir’s regime. Instead, a military coup in October 2021 replaced a broad-based coalition of opposition forces as the RSF and the Sudan National Army became impatient at any possible restrictions placed on the military by a civilian transition. The military was anxious at attempts to curb its corporate power derived from its economic assets and opportunity to generate private wealth in agriculture, manufacturing and trade. Rumours also spoke of sections of the army wanting to reassemble Islamist forces close to the ousted dictator al-Bashir by mounting an offensive against the RSF. The coup may also have been a pre-emptive strike triggered by possible U.S. impatience with the pace of a democratic transition.

Massacres of civilians and targeted killings, especially in Darfur, were a harsh reminder of atrocities committed in the early to mid 2000s by the Janjaweed militia, from which the RSF emerged, killing up to 300,000 black Africans—something for which the International Criminal Court indicted al-Bashir. The latter had admitted that while he did not have any links to the Janjaweed, he had helped form militias to defend the country against what he called dissident elements and foreign influences that he declared were targeting Darfur’s resources and threatening to break up the unified state of Sudan.

Herein, and perhaps somewhat ironically with the comments from al-Bashir, lies a glimpse at the reasons behind Sudan’s war, the levels of violence, imperialist interests and displacement in Darfur and Kordofan. ROAPE has previously explored different dimensions to recurrent and systemic crises of Sudan’s political economy. A special issue (no. 26, 1983) was pathbreaking in documenting and exploring a number of different dimensions to class politics and social transformation. It was an issue that was initiated and led by Sudan scholar-activists and examined the context of the country’s then economic crisis, class formation and agrarian transformation. The analysis of what became known as Sudan’s second civil war (1983—2005) was deepened by Alison Ayers (2010), who challenged the mainstream tropes regarding the causes of conflict and ‘civil war’. She argued that it was mistaken to reify focus on combatants or insurrectionary forces without examining how political violence was historically constituted.

Ayers assembled a compelling argument that an appreciation and explanation of civil war needed to be structured by an analytical and methodological approach that framed conflict in the context of ‘technologies of colonial rule’ that produced and reproduced fractures in social relations of race, religion and ethnicity which became mechanisms for military mobilisation. Second, she argued for the need to explore the context of the Cold War and subsequent geopolitics that worsened conflict. Third, she stressed the importance of understanding the impact that Sudan’s incorporation into the world economy has had for the ‘dynamics of accumulation, based on primitive accumulation and dependent primary commodity production’. In other words, while it may be commonplace to see violence as the result of individuals and lawless militaries and militias, we only get a more analytically precise explanation for violence, and genocide, if wars are seen as not new or extraordinary or internal but ‘crucial and constitutive dimensions of Sudan’s neo-colonial condition’ (Ayers 2010, 153).

The mistake of characterising the current civil war as one of ethnicity or battles between two warring generals has also been critiqued in a more recent issue of this journal. Mark Duffield and Nick Stockton (2024, 106) have provided an outline of ‘an historically and empirically grounded explanation for the post-colonial destruction of the nation states of Somalia and Sudan’. In doing so they placed centre stage the economic and political processes of primitive accumulation in the greater Horn. In Sudan they highlight that the violence, death and destruction in Darfur results from land clearances ‘to convert socially tilled soils and water resources used for autonomous subsistence into pastures for intensive commercial livestock production’ (ibid., 107). They document a pattern of ‘ecological strip mining’ (ibid.) that dispossesses local Fur, Zaghawa and Masalit communities, ‘freeing’ labour to work—but without employment opportunities—and dispossessing households of assets, particularly livestock, without which the indigenous population become destitute, and refugees, if they manage to escape slaughter at the hands of the RSF.

Sudan reminds us of capitalist and imperialist pressures that underpin war. They do so by highlighting that capitalism is intrinsically a violent process. They highlight how primitive accumulation is not a short-term or temporary process in the formative period of capitalist development, but more permanent and recurrent. Looking at the Horn as a regional economy Duffield and Stockton reveal that even during the height of the humanitarian crisis where aid and development assistance was intense, Sudan (and Somalia) continued to export large volumes of livestock to the United Arab Emirates (UAE). Their argument is that the changing demands for food production, and consumption, create the demand for primitive accumulation and violence in Sudan (see also Woertz 2014). The demand for meat in the UAE has stoked dispossession in Darfur as the ideological rhetoric of warring factions is expressed in terms of racialised Afro-Arab binary and militia dehumanisation of people with black African identity who may be Masalit, Fur or Zaghawa (Thomas 2024). There has been much written about Hermedti’s wealth and ownership of gold mined in western Sudan, but the RSF and their UAE financiers have also driven a commodification of land and labour through violent dispossession and displacement of local populations, so that land could be mined for livestock production and export. The endless wars in the Horn, and especially Somalia and Sudan, are not humanitarian disasters per se characterised by essentialist ethnic and regional conflict or megalomaniacal army officers.

The violence and disaster for the majority of Sudanese is the outcome of deep-seated and intense primitive accumulation in Darfur and parts of Kordofan that rewards not only factions of Sudan’s military but also regional actors like the UAE and Saudi Arabia. These two states have vied for expanded regional hegemony and suppressed internal dissent and support for the Arab uprisings in 2011 (Mahjoub 2024). The UAE has been pivotal not only as a market for livestock to feed its population but also as a supplier of arms to the RSF—supplied to the UAE from the U.S. and UK among others. The UAE has been the destination for gold produced in RSF strongholds and a financial centre for RSF ‘front companies to provide weapons, supplies and financing services’ (Mahjoub 2024). The UAE has also helped to manage and groom the image and PR of the RSF (Lynch and Gramer 2019). It would also seem that members of the Sudan Armed Forces and especially the RSF have been variously integrated into the UAE’s military system, helping wage war against Ansar Allah—the Houthi movement—in Yemen. The attempts to exert political and military influence in the greater Horn has also been evident in the roles played by the UAE, Saudi Arabia and also the U.S., in seeking to shape discussions for a post-genocide Sudan (Wanni 2024).

Agendas
Anniversaries are moments to reflect on what has been done and to think how they may have been done differently. In the editorial that marked ROAPE’s 30th anniversary, editors considered what might be at the top of a radical agenda for transformation in Africa (Bujra et al 2004). They asked what kinds of themes were important to explore as part of a ‘renewal’. There were, they argued, five dominant issues: ‘globalised capitalism’; U.S. militarism and unilateralism; the reproduction of labour and society; states, state failure and conflict; and resistance and ‘solidarity’ today. These have been crucial themes to help understand African political economy and struggles to promote a radical transformation. Editors in 2004 reiterated the importance of class analysis in the context of ‘prevailing conditions of primitive accumulation’ (ibid., 559). I have highlighted this in the case of Sudan and importantly I have shown how local and national class struggles are often shaped by, but not reducible to, the consequences of U.S. imperialism. This is a theme developed in this issue.

Imperialism is the key framework within which contemporary political economy in Africa is shaped and it is an imperialism that is evidenced by the collective military, economic and social power of the triad, U.S., EU and Japan. The U.S. may dominate militarily but it cannot govern as unilaterally as it might wish, and China’s increasingly global presence challenges Washington’s imperialist hegemony. ROAPE will need to explore the role of China in Africa in more detail. This has begun with the Roape.net collection of essays from The New School symposium of December 2023 ‘The African Continent and China: Counter-Hegemonic Narratives’. Yin Chen and Corrina Mullin (2024) and others in that collection expose the limitations of most scholarly prevailing narratives and stereotypes about China. They challenge the false equivalences of comparing China to hegemonic Western states or that China can be characterised as imperialist. This contrasts sharply with several previously posted blogs on Roape.net (Wengraf 2018; Plys, Lô and Mohamed 2022). It is too simplistic to call China imperialist. It is a reductionist assertion implying proximity to and reifying elements of Lenin’s definition that imperialism is defined by domestic monopoly capitalism and increased presence of capital export in the world market. At least two themes can be developed and interrogated further: the character of China’s domestic development policy and the impact of Chinese political, economic and social relations in Africa.

Reflecting on the character of China’s development strategy can help with regard to the possible emergence of national sovereign projects in Africa as a form of delinking (Amin 2019; Ajl 2024b). China has promoted an anti-systemic position managing local and national capital accumulation that is not simply subordinated to the international law of value. In this context,

the governing classes of the periphery [can] actively insert their countries into the world trade system with the strategic aim of achieving a gradual growth in the level of the population’s scientific and technical sophistication. (Macheda and Nadalini 2021, 120)

The Chinese Communist Party has promoted and embedded an escalation of the technical capabilities of the national labour force and done so by

safeguarding the country from two typical pathologies affecting the peripheral capitalist countries in which the development of productive forces is subordinated to the pursuit of profitability: the halting of the growth in formal employment and wages, and the regression of the country’s productive structure towards the non-tradable sector. (ibid., 136)

China may be the world’s largest economy as measured by purchasing power parity, and recent growth has been fuelled by increased demand for imports of raw materials from across the Third World, not just Africa. Yet, as Lenin argued, imperialism is characterised by ‘superprofits’ shaped by the global supremacy of the majority of humankind by a minority of dominant states (Li 2021). While China’s foreign assets are greater than its liabilities, it is important to note that the structure of its assets is different from foreign investment in China (State Administration of Foreign Exchange 2023). Foreign capital in China attempts to benefit from the country’s cheap labour supply in manufactures for export where rates of return were between 5 and 6% between 2010 and 2018. In contrast, China’s total overseas assets are mostly held in reserve assets, currencies including the U.S. dollar with investments in ‘low-return but “liquid” instruments like U.S. government bonds’ (Li 2021). The rate of return on China’s overseas assets in the eight years after 2010 averaged 3%. The implication of this, among other things, is that Chinese foreign assets are largely in the form of a claim for future access to U.S. and other goods and services, yet these are likely to be unobtainable: deploying them to boost industrial growth is likely to plunge the planet into an ecological abyss.

China is not a country of the capitalist core. It is a net provider of surplus value to the capitalist world system and it is not a net recipient of surplus value from the world periphery. ‘China is thus best described as a semi-peripheral country in the capitalist world system’ (Li 2021). It also, of course, provides a brake on imperialist military aggression by the triad, political support for sovereignty in Africa by not seeking conditionality for its aid and loans and a possible mirror for alternative development strategies that are driven first and foremost by national and then regional plans for development.

This leads to the second important focus on China that ROAPE can help develop: a more systematic analysis of the impact that Chinese investment, lending and infrastructure development, including the role of experts and expatriate labour, has on prospects for radical transformation in Africa. A lot of commentary on the role of China in Africa has come from Western media echoing business anxiety, particularly from U.S., Canadian and European mining and energy conglomerates being pushed aside by China’s race for African raw materials. The actual levels and impact of Chinese investment and foreign lending remain opaque, and it is too soon to argue convincingly what the long-term implications are for Chinese links with particular states or the continent as a whole.

Imperialism shapes capitalist interests of profitability and security, labour supply and its reproduction, all themes this journal will continue to expose. But does a journal have a responsibility that goes beyond reporting and relaying publishable submissions? ROAPE certainly has a responsibility to report on different African-based opposition forces of workers and farmers that have, for example, recently contested U.S. and French militarism in Mali, Burkina Faso, Niger and Senegal. ‘The South continues to be the “zone of storms”—repeated revolts, some of which are potentially revolutionary’ (Amin 2019, 404). Future issues of this journal might extend the list of important themes by including contributions that go beyond documenting examples of resistance to local dispossession and U.S. militarism to map out alternative strategies that can advance national sovereign projects for justice and democratic decision-making that actively reduce imperialist intervention and local ruling class power and authority, including the possible role of the military in Africa in advancing a radical agenda for change. To what extent are there social movements that assemble alternative agendas with workers and peasants at their core, and which are deliverable rather than utopian abstractions from reality? And what are the organisational structures that might ensure the delivery of such agendas? What does national liberation or sovereignty mean, and under what kinds of conditions can social movements seize state power to make and deliver development policy that will advance living conditions for the poor, successfully breaking from imperialist dominance? This agenda, moreover, will take place in the context of an accelerating climate emergency where labour is displaced and dispossessed not only by deleterious consequences of foreign and local capitalist penetration, but also by ecological storm, famine and challenges to the maintenance even of bare life.

ROAPE helped with developing these agendas with African activists by holding three Connections workshops, which took place in Accra in November 2017, Dar es Salaam in April 2018, and Johannesburg in November 2018. The focus for these meetings was on African activists, trade unionists and researchers exploring agendas for radical transformation, industrial strategy, political change and policy reform. We will help advance more of these kinds of meetings in the months to come, where African activists set agendas for debating and planning revolutionary transformation. In these circumstances the journal becomes more than a vessel for assembling critiques of capitalism and imperialism, of adding to the criticism of U.S.- and EU-led policy practices hidden under a rhetoric of Africa rising or optimism for (eventual) growth. The journal becomes a vehicle to help advance ‘practical utopianism’—radical thinking that highlights the range and scope for African futures (Saul and Leys 1998; Bush 2021).

Articles in this issue
Articles in this issue deepen and advance many of the themes raised in this editorial. Peter Lawrence reflects on 50 years of ROAPE. A founding editor, he examines the role of ROAPE as a journal committed to the production of knowledge in the service of the struggle against global capitalist imperialism. He does this by situating the debate about knowledge production in and on Africa in the context of how ROAPE began as a radical left journal in the early 1970s. He reflects on some of the tensions within the editorial working group over time, highlighting, among other things, the challenges confronted by engaged scholars on Africa and the role of activism in promoting radical transformation. He also underlines the decision of the editorial working group to leave a global publishing house at the end of 2023 to ensure that ROAPE remains entirely independent, now with genuinely free and open access to all readers and doing this with the platform ScienceOpen.

Extending some of the themes linked to African knowledge production, Luke Sinwell interrogates the meanings and practice of 30 years of scholar-activism in South Africa. He looks at the dynamic relationship between race and class and knowledge production and what radical transformation might mean in that context. He argues that outside mainstream politics the left has lost its way in supporting grassroots political struggles. He argues that it is necessary to recognise that point and embrace new ways of making contact with and learning from local political struggles. Offering lessons for elsewhere in Africa he invokes Walter Rodney to ‘ground together’ to embrace and develop a myriad of streams of restlessness, discontent and militancy in South Africa.

Matteo Capasso and Essam Abdelrasul Bubaker Elkorghli demonstrate how U.S.-led imperialism is the fundamental contradiction to be assessed when looking at development and underdevelopment in northern Africa. They detail how U.S. imperialism tries to integrate different social formations in northern Africa into the circuits of capital in a number of distinct but integrated forms, ideologically, militarily and financially. They also highlight, however, that while the power of the U.S. to disrupt organisational capacity to promote independent sovereign political economy continues, there have also recently been attacks that have shaken U.S. hegemony—the ongoing national liberation struggle of Palestine and military-inspired coups in West and Central Africa against neo-colonialism. As they note, ‘The lessons from these revolutionary moments are clear and must not be underestimated’ for the region of North Africa.

Ndongo Sylla develops the themes of hostility and opposition to imperialism. He does so by exploring the changing role of French imperialism in West and Central Africa, interrogating the reasons behind coups in francophone Africa. He critiques mainstream views that see coups as representing a ‘backsliding’ of democracy or consider that the ‘epidemic’ of coups reflects a move towards unconstitutional challenges to law and order and to liberal democracy. He instead develops an analysis of the importance of the historical backdrop to different military interventions: the common themes between them, not the least the role of French occupation and continued destabilisation led from Paris, and what distinguishes the coups in relation to the specificity of the country cases. By exploring what is historically specific to the different military interventions Sylla asks how coups can be progressive in the struggle for radical political transformation. He notes among other things the role that youth, workers and peasants play in contesting imperialism and its multifaceted consequences.

Hannah Cross takes apart the international migration regime to highlight how it reveals imperialist power in West Africa and the Maghreb. She demonstrates the role played by the EU and the International Organization for Migration (IOM) in promoting and underpinning U.S. imperialism. This is achieved under the guise of promoting the global governance of migration, which advances the social relations of production on an international and local scale. She also compares global migration governance with structural adjustment as a set of border and development policies that sustain dependent relations between the elites of indebted African countries and the international capitalist class. In doing this she highlights the clear institutional parallels between the IOM and the international financial institutions. Global migration governance, for Cross, creates widespread chaos and displacement in the advance of finance capital.

Lyn Ossome deepens our understanding of gender inequalities and how they are part of the structural character of imperialism. She explores conditions of global capital accumulation and how the consequences of the immiseration it creates generates a gendered labour substratum of core—periphery imperialist relations. Elaborating this, she highlights processes and implications of gender inequalities, focusing on how the crisis of social reproduction is revealed in relations between the core and the periphery, especially in contemporary agrarian questions of access to land and the commons, the centrality of land reform as a basis of development for liberation and how these themes constitute struggles for national sovereignty and national liberation. Ossome argues that all considerations of, among other things, food and nature, land or nation cannot proceed without analysis of gendered labour regimes that are ‘trapped under the immiserating weight of capitalist accumulation’. ‘The anti-imperialist wars we continue to wage are nothing if they do not retain a focus on [these] materialist feminist histories.’

https://mronline.org/2024/10/18/imperialism-and-africa/
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Re: Africa

Post by blindpig » Tue Nov 05, 2024 3:00 pm

Brutally Murdered 13 Years Ago, This Leader Is Only Growing More Beloved
November 4, 2024

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Muammar al-Quaddafi waves to demonstrators gathered to show support for his return after he resigns as leader of the Revolutionary Command Council. Photo: Genevieve Chauvel/Sygma/Sygma via Getty Images.

By Mustafa Fetouri – Nov 1, 2024

The late Muammar Gaddafi remains one of the most popular figures in Libya, even among the younger generation

October marked 13 years since Colonel Muammar Gaddafi was brutally murdered by a NATO-supported mob of rebels in circumstances still buried under a barrage of deliberate disinformation. Yet 13 years on, Gaddafi is probably the most popular figure in the North African country.

Is it just nostalgia that makes the general public yearn for a man who has long been dead, or is there something else that goes beyond mere nostalgia as a human emotion?

What happened?
On September 23, 2009, in his first and only speech before the United Nations General Assembly, Muammar Gaddafi described the UN Security Council as council of “horror.” He explained that the council, by the UN charter, is responsible for peace in the world but has only brought “more wars and sanctions.” What he did not know at the time was that the same UN organ would, less than two years later, authorize his removal and ultimately his murder by adopting resolution 1973, which gave the green light to all UN member states to interfere in Libya as long they notified the UN Secretary General of their intention to do so.

Resolution 1973
Resolution 1973, adopted on March 17, 2011, was the UNSC response to public demonstrations that engulfed parts of Libya in the previous month, in which people demanded better living conditions, housing, and jobs. By the time the issue was deliberated at the UN, what had been peaceful and legitimate public demonstrations had turned into an armed revolt led by various stakeholders, including Islamists and former terrorists, against the legitimate government.

The wave of public discontent in Libya was part of wider public awakenings that began in neighboring Tunisia before moving to Egypt. In both countries, the West attempted to save President Ben Ali in Tunisia and later his Egyptian counterpart, Hosni Mubarak, but failed. There were no calls for military intervention to “protect” civilians in either country. With Libya, it was a completely different matter.

Faced with armed groups seeking to destabilize the country, the Gaddafi government responded, just like any other respected government would do, by using force against the armed rebellion. Under Gaddafi, Libya had seen similar events in the previous four decades, where Western-supported attempts were made not only to kill Gaddafi but also to bring about regime change by force. The government used force to contain the demonstration, but specifically targeting the armed groups that had sprung up among the peaceful demonstrators.

In this chaos, many innocent people were killed and wounded, but nowhere near the inflated figures reported in Western media and publically talked about by Western politicians in their quest to widen the rift between the Libyan authorities and its citizens and to sow discord among the Libyans who were divided between supporters of Gaddafi and supporters of what became known as the February 17 Revolution. William Hague, the UK’s foreign minister at the time, for example, told the world’s media that Gaddafi had already fled the country and was on his way to Venezuela, when in fact Gaddafi never left Tripoli – so Hague misled public opinion, which further inflamed the situation.

Rush to action without facts
Under pressure from veto-wielding permanent superpower members, the UNSC passed resolution 1973 under the pretext of the ‘Right to Protect’ (R2P) doctrine that, controversially, allows the UN to use military force to protect civilians when their government fails to do so. Paragraph 4 of the resolution called on all world countries to “take all necessary measures” to protect civilians in Libya, impose a no fly zone, and urged all UN member states to tighten the embargo already imposed on the country by UNSC resolution 1970, passed on February 26, 2011, referring the situation in Libya to the International Criminal Court (ICC), to investigate the alleged war crimes and crimes against humanity allegedly being committed on a large scale in Libya on the orders of Gaddafi himself, who was one of three officials indicated by the court.

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A visitor at the opening of Aisha Gaddafi’s personal exhibition ‘Daughter of Libya’ in Moscow. © Sputnik / Vladimir Vyatkin

Resolution 1970 was not passed based on concrete independent investigative reports of facts but, mainly, based on biased media reports. Neither the UN nor any of its relevant institutions investigated events on the ground to be able to lay blame, and the first official UN mission arrived in Libya in March and reported to the UNSC in April 2011. This means the UNSC adopted its two resolutions, 1970 and 1973, based on unverified media reports, unreliable witness statements and biased civil organizations accounts.

By the time the UNSC adopted resolution 1973, Libya was already in a full-swing civil war between the armed rebels and government forces that, in being dehumanized by biased Western media, were called “Gaddafi brigades.”

The rebels were actually a mix of terror organizations and locals who chose to fight the government. They included groups such as Al-Qaeda, Ansar Al-Sharia, Al-Qa’ida in the Lands of the Islamic Maghreb, Libyan Islamic Fighting Group, and remnants of other groups and Afghan war veterans who infiltrated the country.

By mid-March 2011, Libya was consumed by internal violent strife, its government boycotted by most countries, its voice drowned under the barrage of media lies and fake news, its officials banned from travel, and its leader being hunted day and night. The rebels fighting the government were being supplied, financed, armed, trained, and directed by the West and several Arab countries such as Qatar, Jordan, and United Arab Emirates.

The stage was set for NATO to take over the military intervention. In fact, France, the US, and UK had already started bombing Libya by launching the first wave of missile strikes on Libyan air defense sites and radars in order to prepare the ground for imposing a no-fly zone. Even civil security forces, manning checkpoints around Tripoli, were bombed. By the end of March 2011, Libya has become a “theatre of operations” and NATO launched “Operation Unified Protector” with an around-the-clock bombardment.

That meant that the strongest military alliance in human history had just launched its first war in North Africa since France was defeated in Algeria in 1962. By the end of its operation, NATO had killed hundreds of Libyan women and children, destroyed private properties and infrastructure, all in the name of reinforcing international law and protecting civilian while the real agenda was far more sinister. The scenes of chaos, destruction, displacements, and killings continued from March to October, in which the Libyan army managed to hold back the rebels on the ground while facing NATO air bombardments. On October 20, 2011, Gaddafi was murdered in gruesome scenes and his body, alongside the bodies of his son and his defense minister, displayed for the horrified public to see.

The real goals of the NATO operationin Libya
Murdering Gaddafi turned out to be the ultimate real goal of NATO’s campaign in Libya. The decision was made that he must be liquidated as a person and everything he represented as leader must be erased from the memory of his people and millions more across Africa to whom he was a source of inspiration as an honest African leader.

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Art critic, advisor to the Director General of the State Museum of the East Tatiana Metaxa at the opening of Aisha Gaddafi’s personal exhibition ‘Daughter of Libya’ in Moscow. © Sputnik / Vladimir Vyatkin

The bigger immediate objective was to transform Libya from an independent state with sovereign decision-making into a Western subordinate, chaotically run and unable to decide for itself on any major national issue including elections, economic policies, and management of its national wealth, including billions still frozen around the world.

To achieve that, the climate and environment of social solidarity which took Gaddafi decades to secure and strengthen was dismantled and killed as an idea, allowing the entire Libyan social fabric to be dismantled, ushering in an era of chaos and dependence on foreign powers.

Today, the West continues to make every effort to prevent the country from being reclaimed by its own people, even if that happens through ballot boxes brought by Western planes under the pretext of transforming Libya into a democratic paradise on the southern shore of the Mediterranean.


“Gaddafi did not die”
Yet after all these years, the man the West portrayed as evil and whom they destroyed Libya to remove, is still remembered and cherished by most Libyan as if he had not died at all.

In September, thousands of ordinary people took to the streets in dozens of cities, towns, and villages across the country to celebrate 55 years since Gaddafi came to power on September 1, 1969, in what became known as Al-Fatih Revolution. While commemorations have happened almost every year since 2011, this year’s festivities were notable for the large number of young people taking part. In Bani Walid, for example, the celebrations featured a parade led by a Gaddafi lookalike complete with body guards.

Ali Al-Kilani, a renowned poet and former Gaddafi aide, claims “Gaddafi did not die” because he made Libyans believe in themselves and “be proud of their independence and sovereignty.” Looking at the number of people who celebrated this year is proof that “he is still popular despite what has been done to erase him from people’s minds,” said Al-Kilani from his self-imposed exile in Cairo, Egypt.

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The daughter of Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi, Aisha Gaddafi, at the opening of the personal exhibition ‘Daughter of Libya’ in Moscow. © Sputnik / Vladimir Vyatkin

To honour her father’s memory this year, Aisha Gaddafi, one of two daughters of the late leader, chose to exhibit her art work commemorating him in the State Museum of Oriental Art in Moscow. Invited by Igor Spivak, the chairman of the Russian Mideast Society, Aisha accepted the invitation after meeting Spivak in Oman, where she lives in exile. Inaugurating the show, she said, “I show these works for the first time to honour my father and my brother on the anniversary of their deaths.” Aisha, who lost her husband and two children in a NATO airstrike, added, “I can tell you that these pictures are painted not with my hand, but with my heart.”

Spivak said he wanted Aisha to exhibit in Moscow because people in Russia “love her, love her father, and want to see her art in Russia.”

Could popularity become votes?
The very fact that many Libyans still honour Gaddafi and remember him means that the top NATO goal of erasing his memory has failed. His popularity today could also play a decisive role in elections whenever they take place. His son Saif Al-Islam, who registered to contest presidential elections in December 2021, was tipped to win, but the vote was indefinitely postponed thanks to US and UK rejection of him being on the ballots.

The ambassadors of the UK and US to Libya intervened just before election day, on December 24, 2021, to voice their rejection of his nomination. They claimed that Saif Al-Islam is not a good choice for Libya as he is wanted by the ICC. Indeed, Saif Al-Islam has been indicted by the ICC, but Libyan courts have already exonerated him though a general amnesty law passed by the parliament in 2015. The young Gaddafi today is much more popular than any other potential nominee, and much of his popularity stems from his family name and the fact that he stood by his father during the war.

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The opening of Aisha Gaddafi’s personal exhibition ‘Daughter of Libya’ in Moscow. © Sputnik / Vladimir Vyatkin
While Muammer Gaddafi still commands respect and loyalty among large sections of Libya, the country itself is unlikely to become stable, united, and peaceful anytime soon. Many observers, pessimistically, say that Gaddafi died and took Libya with him.

https://orinocotribune.com/brutally-mur ... e-beloved/
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Re: Africa

Post by blindpig » Sat Nov 30, 2024 3:08 pm

How Neoliberalism Has Wielded ‘Corruption’ to Privatise Life in Africa

In Africa, the leading forces of capitalism have ruthlessly wielded a neoliberal conception of corruption to undermine states’ sovereignty and open the continent to plunder at the hands of Western multinational corporations.

26 November 2024

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The dossier was researched and written under the leadership of Professor Grieve Chelwa of The Africa Institute, Global Studies University, through Tricontinental Pan Africa.

The artwork in this dossier attempts to illustrate the true face of corruption on the African continent – from the brutal plunder of the colonial era to today’s legalised looting by multinational corporations through tax evasion and other illicit forms of accounting. The satirical images aim to subvert the racialised image of African corruption and highlight the true cost of neo-colonialism and the faces of the true culprits – the Western multinational corporations, banks, and accounting institutions who underdevelop Africa for their own profit.


In the years following the fall of the Soviet Union, the word ‘corruption’ increasingly began to appear in the reports of multilateral agencies and non-governmental organisations. These reports argued that corruption is rooted in the regulatory function of states, which control large-scale development projects and whose officials oversee the delivery of licences and permits; if the regulatory function of states could be minimised, many of these reports argued, corruption would be less pervasive. This kind of anti-corruption discourse fit neatly within the neoliberal drive to shrink states’ regulatory apparatuses, deregulate and privatise economic activity, and promote the idea that the freedom of the market’s invisible hand would create a moral foundation for society.

Yet, none of these reports – including those from the World Bank and Transparency International – offered a clear definition of corruption. In The Anti-Corruption Plain Language Guide (2009), Transparency International defined corruption as ‘the abuse of entrusted power for private gain’.1
Three years later, the World Bank described corruption as ‘the abuse of public office for private gain’.2

These definitions are similar, and they continue to be reproduced in reports from multilateral organisations and in academic scholarship. The key word here is ‘abuse’, and the main implication is that someone in the public sector entrusted with power or public office abuses their role for private gain, such as through bribery, nepotism, extortion, and embezzlement. This orientation argues that if the state were smaller or more disciplined, there would be little to no corruption in society. Even though the non-governmental organisation Transparency International added a concern about private sector corruption in 2010, this addition has been marginal to the overall focus on public sector corruption.3

The epicentre of this argument has been the African continent, where the idea of ‘corruption’ – meaning corruption of the state – has effectively been used to diminish the state’s regulatory functions and reduce the number of state employees. It is important to note that while 21% of the European workforce, on average, is employed in the public sector, that number is a mere 2.38% in Mali, 3.6% in Nigeria, and 6.7% in Zambia, which in turn limits these states’ capacity to manage and regulate large multinational corporations on the African continent.4
Furthermore, over the course of the 1990s and the 2000s, the International Monetary Fund (IMF) fought to reduce public-sector employees’ salaries, which certainly increases the likelihood of bribery. The IMF outlined this approach in its 1991 Public Expenditure Handbook, which makes reducing the wage bill for public-sector workers a central part of its agenda.5

In neoliberal literature, corruption primarily takes the form of bribery, extortion, and embezzlement – all of which refer principally to public sector corruption – while omitting concepts such as transfer mispricing, trade mis-invoicing, accounting irregularities, financial mismanagement, and tax avoidance – all of which are essential elements of multinational corporations’ accounting practices.6
There are a range of socio-psychological reasons for corruption, the most referenced one being greed. But greed is not a transhistorical concept or emotion; rather, it is shaped by the social formation in which it is allowed to grow. Capitalism has a special relationship to greed, since it fosters the ‘animal spirits’ (as the economist John Maynard Keynes put it) to reduce all human life to commodities and to centralise the profit motive as the economic motor.7

Yet, older forms of morality that are eager to set aside hypocrisy and overcome the dominion of money prevail in social consciousness across the world. This dossier is anchored in the popular sentiment against corruption in society, driven largely not by petty bribery but by industrial-scale corruption by private capital. The Malaysian sociologist Syed Hussein Alatas called this ‘tidal corruption’: the corruption that ‘floods the entire state apparatus involving those at the centre of power. Like the tide, it rises to cover wider areas and immerse the surrounding vegetation’.8
This dossier is not a defence of corruption; on the contrary, it argues for an understanding of corruption that is not rooted solely in the public sector but that appreciates the tidal corruption set in motion by the leading forces of capitalism. It focuses on the African continent because that is where agencies such as the IMF and the World Bank have most effectively wielded the idea of ‘corruption’ to undermine states’ sovereignty and subjugate the countries of the Global South to the extraordinary power of multinational corporations, particularly in the mining sector.9

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Part 1: The Neoliberal Corruption Industry
In 1993, Peter Eigen, a German lawyer who worked at the World Bank in the legal department, registered an association in Germany called Transparency International. Eigen worked with Michael Wiehen (formerly of the World Bank) and Hansjörg Elshorst (formerly of the German Agency for Technical Cooperation) to establish Transparency International in German business and government circles as a legitimate organisation. Before going forward to discipline countries of the Global South, the association had to ensure that European states had built their own legitimacy regarding corruption. That is why they lobbied the governments of France and Germany to stop the policy of what, in Germany, is called Schmiergeld (bribe money); these countries not only allowed bribes to be paid in foreign jurisdictions, but then permitted companies to deduct these payments from tax obligations.10

This lobbying resulted in the passage of the 1999 Organisation for Economic Cooperation and Development (OECD) Convention on Combating the Bribery of Foreign Public Officials in International Business Transactions. By passing this convention, European officials and their counterparts in North America created a framework about corruption through which to adopt a morally superior position over governments in the Global South.11
In 1997, Matthew Parris, a conservative South African-born member of the British Parliament, said, ‘Corruption has become an African epidemic. It is impossible to overstate the poisoning of human relations and the paralysing of initiative that corruption on the African scale brings’.12
This phrase – on the African scale – defines an attitude toward corruption that embodies both the long colonial history of theft and the neocolonial present of corporate malfeasance on the continent.

Yet those who moralise about African corruption have little to say when it comes to the criminality of corporate corruption. Take, for example, the German-South African retail giant Steinhoff International (1964–2023). In 2015, German officials raided the offices of Steinhoff Europe Group Services as part of an investigation into accounting fraud. As the scandal became too big to contain, with new investigations by contracted firms such as PricewaterhouseCoopers, and with Steinhoff’s senior management forced to resign, the South African parliament opened its own investigation of the firm, which found that businesses such as Steinhoff rely upon public funds for their investments, including – in the case of South Africa – the Public Investment Corporation.13

These public funds lost billions in Steinhoff’s eventual collapse. In 2019, South Africa’s Financial Sector Conduct Authority imposed an administrative fine of ZAR 1.5 billion (US $95 million) on the company for false, misleading, or deceptive statements to the market. This fine was later reduced to ZAR 53 million (US $3.4 million), a minuscule amount compared to the approximately ZAR 124.9 billion (US $6.9 billion) involved in fictitious or irregular transactions that substantially inflated Steinhoff’s profits and assets between 2009 and 2017.14

In the service of ‘investor-friendly policies’, these scandals are either underreported or treated as the exception rather than the rule. Yet this is a familiar story, from the accounting debacles at Enron Corporation (2001) and Arthur Andersen (2002) – which led to the largest known case of corporate fraud in history – to the faked emissions scandal at Volkswagen (2015).

Before Transparency
In the period of decolonisation and then of the formation of post-colonial states, Western-driven modernisation theory argued that corruption was not a ‘poison’ but an asset that helped shape the relationship between the ruling class and the state apparatus. Drawing from the experience of the United States, Robert K. Merton’s Social Theory and Social Structure (1949) provided the basis for this line of argument: that corruption made the relationship between state officials and the ruling class more intimate.15
In the 1960s, a range of influential scholars published important articles based on fieldwork in Africa and Asia to substantiate the claim that corruption ‘humanises government’, as Edward Shils wrote in 1960.16
Indeed, in his classic work Political Order in Changing Societies (1968), Samuel Huntington argued that corruption (or what he defined as ‘patronage from above’) in Africa, Asia, and Latin America had contributed to the creation of ‘the most effective political parties and most stable political systems’.17
In this Western modernisation literature, which dominated the worldview of multilateral institutions, corruption was treated as an utterly normal – even beneficial – form of economic interaction.

Modernisation theory played a considerable role in the new post-colonial states, but it was not the only approach to economic development. In 1955, the Bandung Final Communiqué made it clear that the most predatory aspect of the world economy’s neocolonial structure was the role of transnational corporations (TNCs), as they were known then (later called multinational corporations, or MNCs). Many of these TNCs, which emerged during the colonial era, had built up their capital stock through colonial theft and structured world economic relations to gain privileged access to raw materials in the former colonies as well as captive markets to which to export their expensive finished products. That is why the new post-colonial states centred the role of TNCs as they developed the platform of the New International Economic Order (NIEO): if these states were to establish sovereignty over their own territories, they had to reduce the power of TNCs either by regulation or restriction.18
Since many of these states lacked the capacity to develop an in-depth analysis of how these firms were organised or how they managed their financial transactions, they urged the UN Conference on Trade and Development (UNCTAD) and other United Nations bodies to do so. In 1974, the UN Centre for Transnational Corporations (UNCTC) was created for this purpose and began to build a database on the major TNCs’ operations in order to understand what was seen as the institutionalisation of corruption through novel manoeuvres of accounting.

At the same time, the post-colonial states understood the grave limitations they had inherited from their old colonial masters all too well, such as a hierarchical state apparatus designed to terrorise the colonised population and a bureaucracy that had been trained to serve the ends of colonialism, not the people. With the departure of the colonial bureaucrats, the now independent states had to train almost an entirely new administration, many of whose cadre came from impoverished or near-impoverished backgrounds (material conditions that increased the temptation to accept bribes). These states opened public administration institutes to develop the capacity of their new employees and to encourage them to work with the spirit of the national liberation struggles that had won them independence. Each state’s attitude towards public administration varied based on its class politics: in states with a more landlord-bourgeois character, the public administration institutes inherited the old colonial forms of bureaucracy without much revision, whereas states with a higher socialist character (such as China and Vietnam) emphasised combatting the forms of hierarchy amongst state officials. In Vietnam, for instance, Ho Chi Minh called upon the new workers to lead by example rather than corrupt society with bribery and extortion (Thi đua là yêu nước, yêu nước thì phải thi đua, Ho Chi Minh said: ‘emulation is patriotism; patriots must emulate’).19

Since the material conditions to build a new kind of state simply did not exist, modern training and social pressure became the primary avenues through which to inculcate new values against a backdrop of low salaries and great temptations (the ‘creation of a new man’, as Ernesto ‘Che’ Guevara wrote).20

Yet, in the era ‘before transparency’, under pressure from TNCs and from Western modernisation theory which justified bribery, post-colonial governments struggled to produce new state values.


The Age of Transparency
In the 1990s, a new argument emerged from the Western academy and multilateral organisations controlled by Western governments. This new theory, which moved from modernisation to neoliberal theory, suggested that the states in the Global South were the locus of corruption, that a smaller state would largely solve the problem, and that more pressure must be placed on these states in order to ‘discipline’ them. The idea that TNCs – now MNCs (multinational corporations) – could be corrupt completely vanished in this theory.

In 1992, under pressure from the US government, the UNCTC was integrated into UNCTAD, where its mandate was radically transformed. Instead of being a watchdog of these large corporations, the UNCTC put its resources toward helping MNCs enter southern markets. There was no more interest in producing a TNC Code of Conduct, the skeleton of which was relegated to a languishing draft from 1983 that is raised every few years and thereafter ignored in special sessions.21
In other words, the UNCTC became largely moot. What is truly remarkable is that the UNCTC and its code of conduct were sidelined by the West just when UNCTAD showed that 80% of global trade (in terms of gross exports) was linked to the international production networks of these mega corporations that operated across national boundaries, and that the market was becoming increasingly concentrated around these firms.22
That is largely why multilateral agencies make no mention of the private sector in their definition of corruption, which they describe as merely the ‘abuse of public office for private gain’.

In 1995, in place of the UNCTC’s TNC Code of Conduct, Transparency International released its annual Corruption Perceptions Index (CPI).23
The CPI was measured by a group of ‘experts’ (often private businessmen) who offered their subjective assessment of public sector corruption in various countries. Even when the CPI redefined corruption in 2010 as ‘the abuse of entrusted power for private gain, encompassing practices in both the public and private sectors’, it still ranked countries based on the perception of corruption in the public sector.24
The underlying neoliberal theory here is that corruption in the public sector corrodes the quality of investments in public goods, as corrupt officials seek to increase the volume of investments in order to increase bribes without considering how those investments align with broader national development goals. According to this theory, the correct course is more privatisation and less government oversight; its proposal for ‘transparency’ is merely to eviscerate regulatory state apparatuses and exaggerate the private sector’s ability to profit from public goods.

Under pressure from Transparency International and allied Western governments, the United Nations General Assembly adopted the UN Convention Against Corruption in 2003, which was replicated in the 2003 African Union Convention on Preventing and Combating Corruption. The UN and African Union (AU) treaties do not explicitly define corruption; rather, they make a list of offences that they suggest should be criminalised, which overwhelmingly focuses on the public sector (such as bribery of public officials).25
The UN convention, AU convention, and Transparency International’s CPI treat various types of theft as perfectly legal, including the legal theft of surplus value from workers, the illegal deductions of fines and fees used to penalise workers, and corruption legalised by accountants. By turning a blind eye to corporate corruption and focusing, instead, on bribes of public officials, these entities normalise the structured criminality of capitalism. Furthermore, the Western-driven UN Convention and the Western-based NGO (Transparency International) that have taken charge of this discourse of corruption have made it appear as though the West has transcended corruption and that corruption is primarily a problem in the Global South. This narrative exculpates the Western-based MNCs from blame and erases the long anti-corruption struggles in the Global South, a rich ethical tradition that is rooted both in religion and in common sense.

Meanwhile, the world of accounting has developed a new form of theft called ‘sustainability reporting’, which is emblematic of a broader trend that seeks ways to hide money from tax authorities and legalise corruption. This form of greenwashing allows accounting firms to disclose what they are doing to incorporate environmental, social, and governance (ESG) factors in order to discount their taxable income, and in so doing often providing false or misleading claims about the environmental benefits of a product, service, or investment.26
Furthermore, these accounting practices are not obligated to produce or follow a proper environmental assessment, nor are they concerned about the displacement of residents from an area of operation, degradation of ecosystems, misuse of agricultural land, consumption of fossil fuel energy, or harsh exploitation of labour. Despite rampant abuse by MNCs – the plastic pollution generated by Coca-Cola’s Africa branch; logging in Norwegian-owned Green Resources Mozambique, Tanzania, and Uganda; and wildly unethical harvesting of ‘ethical diamonds’ by De Beers, to name a few – accounting firms are allowed to investigate themselves and are absolved from accusations of corruption for this type of behaviour, which falls far outside the neoliberal understanding of corruption.27

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Part 2: The Big Heist
Glencore and Zambia
From 2003 to 2023, Zambia’s exports to Switzerland (almost entirely consisting of semi-processed copper) totalled $61 billion – nearly half of the country’s total exports during this period ($145 billion).28
In other words, Switzerland, a tiny landlocked country thousands of kilometres away, has accounted for half of Zambia’s total export market for the last two decades. But it was not always like this.

From 1995 to 1999, for instance, Zambia’s exports to Switzerland, totalling $159 million, made up just 3% of the country’s total exports. This began to change in 2000, when a controlling stake of Mopani Copper Mines (MCM), which up to that point had been owned by the Zambian state, was purchased by Carlisa Investments, a company owned by the giant Swiss commodities trader Glencore AG and domiciled in the British Virgin Islands (itself a tax haven). Therefore, from a legal standpoint, MCM was not owned by Glencore, which allowed Glencore to comply with legal requirements to engage in ‘arm’s length transactions’ with MCM on paper (meaning that they are parties acting independently without influencing each other) while doing the opposite in practice. It is illegal for a company to purchase from and sell to itself (one of the few regulations in place to prevent MNCs from committing tax evasion). However, a company – such as Glencore – can create a subsidiary company – such as Carlisa – with whom it can carry out transactions as if it were a separate company ‘at arm’s length’ while still exercising full influence over the terms and prices in practice. Since it is the subsidiary – Carlisa, in this case – that owns a third company – MCM – Glencore’s transactions with MCM are technically between two independent entities. Efforts are made to ensure that there is no paper trail suggesting otherwise.

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* We chose to refer to Glencore as the owner of the mine because in practice, and in common knowledge, Glencore is the owner of the mine. Since Glencore uses Carlisa to obscure its theft of wealth from Zambia, often by shifting its profits around to evade taxes through transfer pricing, we have chosen not to mirror their language of obscurity in this dossier.

As figure 1 shows, Zambia’s annual exports to Switzerland skyrocketed from virtually zero prior to Carlisa’s (i.e., Glencore’s) purchase of MCM in 2000 to nearly $4 billion in 2020. This pattern led many to suspect that Glencore was engaging in transfer pricing – shifting its profits from a high-tax jurisdiction (Zambia) to a low-tax jurisdiction (Switzerland) in order to pay the least possible amount of taxes and maximise its net profits. In other words, instead of having to pay 30% in corporate taxes on the sale of copper in Zambia based on the commodity’s true value, Glencore is able to price the value of copper sales near zero through its relationship with Carlisa and pay taxes on that artificially low amount. Then it pays corporate income taxes in Switzerland at a rate of 14.6% – nearly half the rate it would have had to pay in Zambia.29

In 2010, the Zambia Revenue Authority took Glencore to court for engaging in transfer pricing. Despite arguing that its transactions with MCM were ‘arm’s length’ transactions between two unrelated entities – MCM and Glencore – (after all, MCM was owned by Carlisa, not Glencore), Glencore lost and was instructed to pay a penalty in addition to lost taxes due to transfer pricing.30
After a costly, ten-year legal battle, the decision was upheld by Zambia’s Supreme Court – a landmark ruling that had wider implications for the future taxation of multinational corporations in Zambia and the region. Yet, even so, the penalty levied was a paltry $13 million – a far cry from the hundreds of millions, perhaps billions, of dollars that Glencore has spirited away from Zambia since 2000.31


Thabo Mbeki’s High-Level Panel on Illicit Financial Flows
In 2011, the United Nations Economic Commission for Africa (UNECA) established the High-Level Panel on Illicit Financial Flows, an outcome of a joint conference hosted by the AU and UNECA. In the words of the panel’s chairperson Thabo Mbeki, this was done in the interest of ensuring ‘Africa’s accelerated and sustained development, relying as much as possible on its own resources’ and ensuring ‘respect for the development priorities it had set itself’. After all, Mbeki said, ‘progress on this agenda could not be guaranteed if Africa remained overdependent on resources supplied by development partners’.32

The panel conducted in-depth analytical studies, interviews, and site visits over the course of several years before delivering a 120-page report to the AU in 2015. The report suggested that, even by conservative estimates, Africa was in fact a net lender of capital to the world – not a net borrower, as is the common perception. In other words, if not for theft on this grand scale, Africa would have all the necessary capital within its borders to meet its developmental aspirations.

The very same multinational corporations that had been billed as partners in Africa’s quest for development were making off with most of the continent’s wealth.

The report focused on illicit financial flows out of Africa, which it defined as ‘money illegally earned, transferred, or used’. ‘In other words’, the report continued, ‘these flows of money are in violation of laws in their [country of] origin, or during their movement or use, and are therefore considered illicit’. Some activities, though ‘not strictly illegal in all cases’, the report explained, could be categorised as ‘illicit’ since they ‘go against established rules and norms, including avoiding legal obligations to pay tax’.33

The report estimated that from 2000 to 2010, illicit financial flows out of Africa ranged between $30 billion and $60 billion per year, or a total of between $300 billion and $600 billion over the entire 10-year period. Yet, it was careful to state that the true magnitude of illicit financial flows were likely many orders of magnitude higher than the estimates provided, since, as Chairperson Mbeki wrote, ‘those responsible [for illicit financial flows] take deliberate and systematic steps to hide them’.34
For instance, another report on illicit financial flows, produced by Global Financial Integrity in 2015, found that Africa lost $675 billion in illicit financial flows from 2004 to 2013 while the developing world as a whole lost $7.8 trillion during this period, with these flows increasing twice as fast year-on-year as global Gross Domestic Product.35

Importantly, and perhaps without precedent for an inter-governmental analysis, the Thabo Mbeki Report, as it came to be known, revealed that the majority of illicit financial flows out of Africa (about 65%) were due to legally sanctioned commercial activities whose purpose was ‘hiding wealth, evading or aggressively avoiding tax, [and] dodging customs duties and domestic levies’.36
Multinational corporations’ standard way of limiting tax liabilities, the report explained, was to make false declarations, whether about undervaluing export receipts, overvaluing the costs of business with the ultimate purpose of limiting profits, or, in the extreme case, falsely declaring losses. One intriguing example in the report was that of an unnamed telecommunications giant which was causing the host government to lose an estimated $90 million annually through methods such as ‘diverting international calls and transforming them into local calls, with operators then making fake declarations of incoming international call minutes to reduce the tax payable to the [host] government’.37

Though many governments and multilateral agencies committed to implementing the reports’ recommendations when it was published in 2015, there is little to show for these promises as capital continues its unimpeded flight from Africa.

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Part 3: Five Ways to Make Money from Africa
In his 1963 book Africa Must Unite, Ghana’s first President Kwame Nkrumah wrote, ‘We have here, in Africa, everything necessary to become a powerful, modern, industrialised continent. United Nations investigators have recently shown that Africa, far from having inadequate resources, is probably better equipped for industrialisation than almost any other region in the world’. Nkrumah was referring to the United Nations’ Special Study on Economic Conditions and Development, Non-Self-Governing Territories (1958), which detailed the continent’s immense natural resources. ‘The true explanation for the slowness of industrial development in Africa’, Nkrumah wrote, ‘lies in the policies of the colonial period. Practically all our natural resources, not to mention trade, shipping, banking, building, and so on, fell into, and have remained in, the hands of foreigners seeking to enrich alien investors and to hold back local economic initiative’.38

How exactly do alien investors go about making money from ‘everything necessary’ for Africa’s sovereign development? We decided to put together a five-point guide that begins to answer that question.

Working with the IMF, World Bank, and World Trade Organisation to encourage (i.e., coerce) African governments to implement ‘investor-friendly’ policies. By ‘investor-friendly policies’, we mean the kinds of policies that make it easy to bring capital into Africa and use that capital to extract as much wealth as possible from the continent. Examples of such policies include privatising vital social services (health and education are key); enacting tax incentives that make it possible for investors to pay zero taxes; eliminating labour rights so that workers can be exploited as much as possible; and liberalising the host country’s capital account, which makes it easy to extract all the profits made in Africa.

Investing in the extractives sector, but not in manufacturing. The trick is to invest in those sectors that make it easy to make a quick buck while hiding behind a veil of opacity. There is no better sector to do this than extractives in Africa, whether drilling oil in Angola, collecting coltan in the Congo, or capturing natural gas in Mozambique. The sites of extraction in this sector are often in enclaves far away from capital cities and, therefore, away from the prying eyes of regulators and the citizenry, thus providing the necessary cover to extract as many resources as possible. Furthermore, investing in extractives rather than manufacturing promises the perpetual underdevelopment of Africa and, therefore, guarantees that the continent will forever be vulnerable to extractive capital – an investment that just keeps giving.

Engaging in transfer pricing. Transfer pricing is a time-tested technique developed by MNCs to expatriate as much profit as possible from the Global South. The subsidiary company in Africa ‘sells’ its products to the so-called parent company in the West, which subsequently sells the product to the ultimate beneficiary and, therefore, pockets the profits in the West. For example, a Swiss-owned mining operation in the Congo sells its cobalt to its parent company in Switzerland for a price that is nearly zero; the Swiss company then sells the cobalt to the ultimate buyer located at an electric car company in the US at the true value of the cobalt. The general idea with transfer pricing is to pay as little taxes as possible in Africa while booking the profits in the West and paying moderate taxes there.

Exaggerating production costs. Remember that since corporate taxes are levied on profits, anything that fictitiously reduces profits reported in Africa also limits the taxes that the corporation is obliged to pay. The example of transfer pricing is one way to reduce the profits reported in Africa. Another trick is to exaggerate costs incurred on the continent in ways that the authorities cannot verify. For example, a consulting company, located in the West, can provide expensive ‘consulting services’ to an African operation in a way that limits the profits in Africa and shifts them to the West. Another cost exaggeration gimmick is to grant a non-existent loan to an African subsidiary: interest payments on this fake loan serve to exaggerate production costs in Africa and, therefore, limit profits that must be reported there, instead shifting them to the West.

Hiring one of the Big Four accounting firms. The Big Four accounting firms – all British – are Deloitte, PricewaterhouseCoopers, Ernst & Young, and Klynveld Peat Marwick Goerdeler. Their stamp of approval is golden, and their audited reports are treated as legal documents. Instead of using information barriers (so called ‘ethical walls’) as they were intended – to ensure the independence and objectivity of the tax advice, consulting services, and auditing – these firms obscure the fact that, often, the same firm provides consulting services while also auditing the hiring company’s books – including auditing these consulting services. For instance, a firm proposes an operational optimisation plan or aggressive tax planning, and that same firm is the ‘independent auditor’ that oversees this plan and then issues an allegedly unbiased opinion that the financial statements are fair. Due to the reduction of state capacity, many African governments now rely upon the reports of accounting firms as uncontested statements of the truth about the operations of MNCs. The hefty fees demanded by the Big Four are very much worth the investment for MNCs, given the hundreds of billions of dollars that they save in taxes.

These five points allow MNCs to make off with Africa’s wealth while ensuring that the continent remains underdeveloped, and yet they are conceptualised as smart business strategies rather than a form of corruption or theft. These actions are legitimised by the hegemonic discourse of corruption, which has taken a decisively neoliberal direction that seeks to dismantle state regulation and protect MNCs. Actual corruption – which manifests both in the corruption of MNCs and the petty corruption of public officials – must be tackled head on, indeed with a clarity that does not exist at present.

Will there ever be an AU Convention on Corporate Corruption?

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Notes at link.

https://thetricontinental.org/dossier-h ... se-africa/

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France Must Close Its Military Bases From Senegal: President Faye

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Senegalese President Bassirou Diomaye Faye, Nov. 29, 2024. X/ @fidel_beckie


November 29, 2024 Hour: 10:24 am

Chad, Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger have also decided to terminate their security agreements with France.

On Thursday, President Bassirou Diomaye Faye declared that France must close its military bases, as their presence is incompatible with Senegal’s sovereignty.

“Senegal is an independent and sovereign country. Sovereignty is not compatible with the presence of military bases in the country,” he stated, clarifying that Senegal does not seek a rupture with France but rather a redefinition of their relationship based on a “renewed partnership.”

His remarks, however, confirm the decline of France’s influence in its former African colonies. Previously, Mali, Burkina Faso, and Niger also decided to terminate their security agreements with France.

Faye noted that Senegal maintains relations with Russia, Türkiye, China, the United States, and Saudi Arabia, none of which have military bases in Senegal.


The text reads, “’France enslaved, colonised and stayed. If the roles were reversed, it would be very difficult to imagine another army having a military base in France,’ President Bassirou Diomaye Faye said of the French military presence in Senegal.”
“The presence or absence of military forces should not equate to a rupture… It is necessary that there be no military bases from any country in Senegal. A renewed partnership can only be established on truth and the fullness of truth,” affirmed Faye.

Also on Thursday, Chad’s Foreign Minister Abderaman Koulamallah announced his government’s decision to end its security and defense cooperation with Paris.

“France is an essential partner, but now it must also recognize that Chad has grown and matured. Chad is a sovereign state and deeply protective of its sovereignty,” he said.

“After 66 years since the proclamation of the Republic, it is time for Chad to assert its full sovereignty and redefine its strategic partnerships according to national priorities,” he added.

https://www.telesurenglish.net/france-m ... dent-faye/

Chad: Goverment Breaks Military Relations with France

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French Soldiers in Chad, Nov 2024 Photo: @Evoclique_

November 29, 2024 Hour: 12:32 pm

Government of Chad assured Paris that its decision does not call into question the historical relations and bonds of friendship between the two nations.

Following the withdrawal of French troops from Mali, Burkina Faso and Niger, Chad was the last country with a French military presence in the Sahel.

Chad announced on Thursday its determination to break the security and defence cooperation agreements with France, which will lose its last military presence in the Sahel region.

«The government of the Republic of Chad informs national and international opinion of its decision to terminate the agreement on cooperation in defense matters signed with the French Republic», said the African country’s chancellor Abderaman Koulamallah in a statement.

In another paragraph of the text, the Government of Chad assured Paris that its decision does not call into question the historical relations and bonds of friendship between the two nations.

🇹🇩🇫🇷 Le Tchad decide de mettre fin à l'accord de coopération en matière de défense avec la France.
Communiqué du Gouvernement 👇 pic.twitter.com/YXeBjv2WZ4

— Ambassade du Tchad en France (@Ambatchadparis) November 28, 2024
He also stressed that he would continue to maintain «constructive relations» with France in other areas of common interest and that they remain open to «a constructive dialogue to explore new forms of partnership».

Following the withdrawal of French troops from Mali, Burkina Faso and Niger, Chad was the last country with a French military presence in the Sahel, where Paris loses its traditional influence inherited from colonial times.

The announcement of the African country comes just hours after the visit of the head of French diplomacy, Jean-Noël Barrot.

«France is a key partner but it must also consider that Chad has grown, matured and is a sovereign state and very jealous of its sovereignty», said Koulamallah after a meeting between Barrot and President Mahamat Idriss Déby Itno.

France still has several bases in the African countries of Ivory Coast, Senegal, Gabon and Djibouti.

However, the Senegalese president, Bassirou Diomaye Faye, said on Thursday that France should close its bases in that West African country under the argument of sovereignty.

https://www.telesurenglish.net/chad-gov ... th-france/
"There is great chaos under heaven; the situation is excellent."

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