Out of Economic Crisis? The IMF/WB and Structural Adjustment Programs (SAPs)

Pessimism concerning Africa's development crises varied somewhat from region to region, but the general outline of them might be seen from an “internal” or sympathetic view and an “external” view which I would hesitate to call strictly “objective”. In the first, the crises can be seen as again divide in two: intrinsic crises factors and extrinsic ones. The intrinsic ones are conditioned by the actual facts of life in Africa. Equatorial Africa, for example, is unlikely to save itself from economic hardship by converting to wheat production for export. On the other hand, with urban growth at 6% per annum, and urban Africans demanding wheat-based foods (a cultural change influenced undoubtedly by European-cosmopolitan food choices), wheat imports become imbalanced as against native export. In communities such as Nigeria, this imbalance may be hidden by the presence in the Nigerian economy of a high-demand export product, oil. South Africa similarly appears as an oddity in almost any chart or graph of African crises, because of the presence of diamonds and gold and sophisticated extraction techniques at least partially controlled by companies inside SA.

Extrinsic factors may be roughly grouped together in the “neo-colonialism” category. Vibrant African economies in full competition with Western economies, while the fond dream of many, would diminish the short-term gains of Western economic entities as compared with flaccid African economies in debt-slavery to Western lending institutions. The IMF/WB is a prime example of the sort of “helping” institution that ensure de facto that LDCs remain LD. Thus the pessimistic strain in its “sympathetic” form.

The “external” form of pessimism toward the African economic situation sounds quite hollow when one reviews the machinations of Western governments and quasi-governmental institutions to de-stabilize African societies. The basic tenor of this form is to suggest that Africans are not yet ready – perhaps will never be constitutionally prepared – to oversee their own economic life. Just as the Christian missionaries of the past were needed to inform Africans of their sinful nature and then save them from themselves, just so the Keynsian missionaries of the present are needed to inform Africans of their inability to manage finances and the means by which they can “extract” themselves.

Balanced against this gloomy picture is an optimistic outlook (expressed in part in the articles by Jamal and Wulf) that although, yes, there are very considerable crises in Africa, these crises are a matter of focus. Jamal points out that insufficient effort has been applied to improvement of African agriculture, and that the effort that has been directed to the development of markets skews the vision of the African crisis. African economic independence may be hampered at present by misapplied effort; proper application of effort in the proper areas is likely to bring better results. Wulf suggests that by tying financial support to financial success, a vicious cycle is created which might be corrected by requiring developmental progress rather than fiduciary progress. Overall, the authors of the articles work from the assumption that Africans are perfectly capable of succeeding if placed in some way on a “level playing field” with their neighbors.

In 1988, when Jurgen Wulf wrote about them, the Structural Adjustment Programs of the IMF in Zambia were unsuccessful because they failed to institute or encourage retructuring of the economy so that exports consisted of more than raw copper, local production was competitive with imported goods, and the internal market was viable. Notably, the reasons for the failure to restructure Wulf describes as being related to the loss of technical and administrative capacities which may have been present in colonial times. One might argue that the Zambians should have followed the lead of their Tanzanian neighbors.

Mittelman and Will argued in 1987 that the IMF demonstrated the power (“flexibility and resilience”) of international capitalism. However, they were less sanguine about the effects of this power, which they claimed forced governments of countries under the IMF regime to employ coercive measures to accomplish their aims (thus supporting a cycle of violence). They argued that the IMF reduces the control of “dominant classes” and therefore “intensifies class conflict”, whether that is ultimately beneficial or not. Conditionality of IMF membership depresses wages, increases unemployment, and “facilitates resource extraction” without substantial benefit to the nation from which the resources are extracted, they proposed. The net effect of involvement of LDCs in the IMF, then, Mittelman and Will argued, is to shackle developing nations to international capitalism and to reinforce divisions of labor.

Economics is a subject I find daunting and confusing, and I confess I had difficulty following the probably fairly simple economic arguments advanced in the articles for this week. Overall, what I saw was that membership in the IMF, like membership in the UN, has been proposed with glowing rhetoric of democratic promise, but in fact is established not on democratic grounds (say, one nation, one vote) but on economic grounds: ever member nation receives a certain number of basic shares, which provide a basic vote, but then wealthier nations can have many more shares and thus many more votes. Somehow the framers of the US Constitution found a way to balance the democratic needs of the federation while recognizing that, say, Virginia's and Rhode Island's financial and political capacities are distinct. Why the IMF founders did not adopt similar quota schemes suggests that democracy and self-determination are lesser values when compared with the protection of capital investments.

Democracies, Dictatorships, and Military Coups d'Etat

The 1970s and 1980s were arguably the most tumultuous period of African history. Even in the often-bloody and unsettled 20^th century, these decades stand out. They have been called the Era of the Strong Man. The often great and inspirational first generation of independent national leaders had been killed, exiled, or marginalized. This first generation had been characterized by men of vision who either had learned to use the existing mechanisms of state control from the colonial era or had been willing to cut a new path. Unhappily for their hopes of peace and prosperity in Africa, their rise coincided with the cold war between the USSR, the USA, and the PRC. The leaders of the USA, eager to consolidate claim to global empire, were willing to resort to assassination to prevent African nations from courting the communist powers.

But the numbers of individuals capable of negotiating intramural rivalries, international relations, and the ravages of centuries of colonial exploitation were few. The leaders of the second generation, when sufficiently acceptable to foreign capitalists, were willing to accept funding and in-kind gifts of weapons in exchange for continued and in many cases expanded economic exploitation. Often these men had been officers in the national military under the first generation of leaders. They had an understanding of organization, but did not necessarily have broad or enlightened visions. Their political sensibilities often ran to personal grandiosity and ethnic prejudice. These characteristics combined with the already unsettled continental and global situation made the Era of the Strong Man also the Era of Genocide. The militarism of the second generation of leaders following decolonization, rather than advancing the peoples of Africa, tended to further the process of underdevelopment.

One point that might be made about the military leaders of the second generation after decolonization is that they were often conservative in their general view. They were not as a rule progressive and idealistic in their thought, although they might well have been given to a sort of whimsy. The “re-naming game” which many African nations played reflected a desire to return to a glorious pre-colonial past. Ghana and Benin are prime examples. Neither contemporary country is located where the namesake kingdom was. But the yearning for distinction was stronger than historical accuracy, and of course the pre-colonial kingdoms' boundaries shifted considerably over time. The Strong Men often adopted baroque combinations of Old African symbols and clothing and contemporary Western-style military uniforms and weapons. Their actions often reflected an attempt to reclaim uniquely African cultural expressions of magical ritual and trappings and exercise of authority. In these ways the Strong Men were analogous to the Nazis, the Fascists, and the Imperial Japanese of the 1930s and '40s, for these groups had sought to reclaim and re-energize national culture. In this way one must concede that they were not merely invested in personal aggrandizement at the expense of the populations of their respective states. They meant to make their nations great. That they were limited both by their own visions and by what must have seemed like unmatchable coercive forces from outside is perhaps only to say that they were finally only Small Men.

The rule of such men cannot ultimately build nations, even when their efforts are applied to conquest. Any efforts at expansionism would ultimately have been met by equivalent efforts from another Strong Man also supported by outside agencies. What the Strong Men themselves may well have seen, that they were ultimately only puppets, would not have humbled them, would not have converted them into another sort of leader. They burned themselves out, and in so doing, they served their masters admirably, if unwillingly.

The Post-Colonial State and the Search for Economic Self-Sufficiency

Why did many Africans adopt a socialist path after independence? This is an intriguing question which begs another: Did many Africans adopt a socialist path after independence? And what did they mean by “socialism”? “Socialism” suggests a connection with the European socialist thinkers of the 19^th century, particularly Marx. And while someone living in the cosmopolitan atmosphere of the mid-20^th century might be expected to understand this association, yet the word “socialism” might be used to mean something other than what Marx used it to mean.

Nkrumah, in Ghana, was strongly influenced by European revolutionary ideas, notably those of Marx, yet the way he developed Marxist ideas paralleled the ways of Lenin and Mao, both of whom realized that socialism must have some degree of national character, even while moving ultimately toward a world communistic order. Nkrumah, however, saw socialism in Africa as being specifically the antithesis of colonialism, and from his perspective so long as colonialism was retained in any part of Africa, all of Africa was in peril. Therefore, Nkrumah advocated Pan-Africanism. He also favored industrialization and “modernization”, with the means of production in the control of the government.

Nyerere, in Tanzania, is harder to categorize. He viewed socialism as a means by which to achieve virtue, which he identified with communalism and rural agrarianism or pastoralism. He summarized this view as Ujamaa, a Swahili word implying community cooperation. Nyerere believed that the value people would derive from life in an Ujamaa village would lead them naturally to embrace a socialist ethic which would eventually determine their consideration of any problem. In the transition from the immediate post-colonial independence situation to full socialism, however, Nyerere was a reformer rather than a revolutionary, permitting capitalism to remain so long as it supported the development of Tanzania.

Nyerere's writings are reminiscent of those of John Locke, William Penn, or Thomas Jefferson: intellectuals who found themselves in the right place at the right time to propose their liberal aesthetic as a practical program. Like them, Nyerere is not necessarily a “good” historian, but he is eager to use history, in the sense of a story about the past (Metz says “myth”, but that is perhaps a bit too extreme, though it makes Metz's point well), to propose a moral truth. Like them, Nyerere selects carefully what he wishes to present about the past to support an affective experience in his reader. In my case, it worked: I literally wept when I read Nyerere for the first time, as he seems so sincere, so patient, so good. He is certainly an effective rhetorician, especially to a person primed by years of reading pro-agrarian thinkers.

Uganda's Milton Obote offers a third version of African socialism. He proposed state control of trade, oil, mines, banks, and insurance, and emphasized national mobilization. However, despite his theoretical interest in the common person (his fundamental position paper is called “The Common Man's Charter”), Obote seems to have been out of touch with public opinion, or rather, willing to superimpose his own ideas as against popular opinion. In some cases, such as the Trade Licensing Act, Obote's political position was righteous, if unpopular: in this Act, Obote defended Asian-descent Ugandans despite strong opposition. Obote was concerned to eliminate pre-colonial sub-national power structures, such as that of the Bakala of the Buganda, and his scheme to break this power, through an electoral system which required regional candidates to campaign nationally, is original. Obote's motivation was to create a sense of national identity, but this in itself is not socialistic. Obote's “Move to the Left” might well have steered Uganda to a more orthodox socialism, but Obote's removal in 1971 left the question moot.

The Post-Colonial State & The Search for Economic Self-Sufficiency: Annotated Bibliography

Martin, Robert. “The Use of State Power to Overcome Underdevelopment.” The Journal of Modern African Studies, 18, 2 (1982): 315-325, http://www.jstor.org/.

Martin begins by bemoaning the state of African studies: mired in Marxist theory. Martin wants to see Africanists – or at least Africanist Marxists – develop praxis: a merging of theory and practice in which each informs and furthers the other. The bulk of Martin's article is a review, defense, and critique of Robert Seidman's eccentric “handbook on how to use state power to overcome underdevelopment” The State, Law and Development (New York: St. Martin's, 1978) (Martin, 316). Seidman offers a technical, even mechanical, approach to problems of law, and argues that it is precisely practical problems of law (such as how to create laws to combat corruption) that should occupy African political theorists and politicians. Martin defends Seidman against a series of anticipated theoretical criticisms from Marxism, such as that revolution is necessary (the defense is that while this is a nice thought, basically no class capable of and motivated to lead a revolution exists [as of 1982]).

Metz, Steven. “In Lieu of Orthodoxy: The Socialist Theories of Nkrumah and Nyerere.” The Journal of Nodern African Studies, 20, 3 (1982): 377-392, http://www.jstor.org/.

Metz explores the socialist theories of Nkrumah and Nyerere, using their degree of Marxist “orthodoxy” as a litmus test. Metz recognizes that for both men, socialist theory and practice were inextricable. Nonetheless Metz proposes to abstract their theory for examination. Both men's theories share a conception of the problems of the post-colonial state, an analysis of the causes and approach to the transition to socialism, and a definition of socialist society. He finds that a substantial distinction between them is that Nkrumah is more orthodox, and generally easier to classify as in the Marxist camp; Nyerere is a bit of a cypher to Metz. Nyerere proposed socialism because he wished to evolve a particular moral situation which he believed socialism would engender. Nkrumah, on the other, believed that socialism was a step towards a communistic state, and that it would follow inevitably once the influence of colonialism had been eliminated through pan-African unity. Thus, Nkrumah was like Lenin and Mao in that he adapted a fairly “orthodox” Marxist material-dialectical perspective to the specific “national” conditions in which he found himself. Nkrumah believed that colonialism had so impacted and expanded any African community's understanding of its place in the world that it was necessary to confront and transform colonialism as a continent, not even as a region within that continent. Nkrumah's relatively radical position certainly must have been a factor in his ouster from Ghanaian government after only a few years. Nyerere, by contrast, led Tanzania for a quarter-century. Metz suggests that Nyerere might be viewed by some Marxists as a sell-out because he was willing to compromise with capitalism.

Nursey-Bray, P.F. “Tanzania: The Development Debate.” African Affairs, 79, 314 (1980): 55-78, http://www.jstor.org/.

Nursey-Bray states that while Tanzania is not earthly perfection, yet the seemingly “Arcadian” vision of Nyerere has in some substantial degree been actualized in Tanzania. Nursey-Bray recognizes that the African situation generally must be understood as neo-colonial, so one must not think of a diametrical opposition of neo-colonialism and socialism, but rather of a spectrum in which neo-colonial governments tend toward either capitalism or socialism. His chief criticism of Tanzanian success has to do with the self-proclaimed goals of self-reliance, nationalization of key industries and commerce, and Ujamaa vijijini; Nursey-Bray proposes that Tanzania has made progress towards these goals, but has certainly not achieved them, being for example (in 1980) dependent upon foreign aid, and moving increasingly into the sphere of international capitalism.

Nyerere, Julius K. Ujamaa: Essays on Socialism. London: Oxford UP, 1968.

Nyerere speaks for himself in this collection of seminal writings which Nyerere calls “essays” although the collection includes the Arusha Declaration, which is a basic mission statement for the Tanganyika African National Union (TANU). Throughout the documents collected in this volume, Nyerere proposes that a traditional African community, at least in an idealized or generalized form, exemplified an exalted moral state in which unselfishness and community spirit directed individual decisions. Nyerere considers this to be a kind of innate socialism, which colonialism has pushed to the side but not destroyed. By progressively reducing the influence of colonialism through reforms of government and the economic order, this innate socialism will blossom in the hearts and minds of the people of Tanzania, and a new era of true prosperity and fellowship will be inaugurated. This may make Nyerere sound like a new-age guru, a bit too precious for the brutal realities of post-colonial Africa. The similarity of his general tone to the Satyagraha writings of Mohandis Gandhi is notable.

Willetts, Peter. “The Politics of Uganda as a One-Party State.” African Affairs, 74, 296 (1975): 278-299, http://www.jstor.org/.

Willetts details the career of Ugandan President Obote, noting that accusations made against him of being of limited intelligence were wrong but at the same time emphasizing political mistakes made by Obote. Willetts concludes that while Obote had socialist leanings, whether his government could truly be said to have been socialist rather than nationalist may be a matter of opinion. Willetts particularly emphasizes the novelty of Obote's suggestions for electoral structures in a one-party nation like Uganda and the difficulty Obote had in controlling the Ugandan military, which ultimately was his own undoing.

Decolonization / Liberation through Violence

Colonial peoples of Africa often resorted to violent measures in overcoming colonial rule. This is unsurprising on several counts. First there is a simple human equation, legitimized to some degree as philosophy in the writings of Franz Fanon, that violence begets violence. “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth”: Fanon presumes that violence done to the violent will provide a catharsis from which a non-violent situation may finally emerge. Second, violence is to some degree a matter of perception: tens of thousands of indigenous “insurgents” sent to internment camps or killed by colonial government forces versus mere tens of white settlers killed albeit brutally: which is the greater violence? The extremity of the killings committed to by the Mau Mau in Kenya accelerated the process of decolonization in fact.

The equation that violence begets violence has a correlate: that violence tends to escalate. The violence of colonialism did not taper off through time, but was transmuted into other forms. The agencies committing violence might not be de jure colonialists, but corporations and banks controlling production and finances may also commit and engender violence. Race prejudice and ethnic unrest existing from before, or created during the colonial period, also foster physical and affective violence. When those experiencing physical or moral violence, inequities of law, and so on, have little investment in the state or in commerce, have the notion that they have nothing to lose and everything to gain by committing violence, “terrorism” may become a fact of daily life.

But although some kinds of violence can have silver linings for capital, “terrorism” tends to disrupt production and close markets. So, the agents of those with investment in the state and commerce, whether they be police or revenuers or soldiers, take as their mission the suppression of insurgency. Soon, even if they begin intending not to take violent measures, they are infected by the dialectic of violence begetting violence. Presumably, this ends in a synthesis wherein violence is either eliminated or contained, but this synthesis may require sacrifice of violent impulse, which is a major demand to place on those who having been robbed see the opportunity to win back what had been theirs.

Nationalism and Nationalist Movements

One great problem of nationalism in Africa is that virtually all national boundaries in Africa were imposed by European colonizers. Therefore, any decolonizing national movement must confront these boundaries and determine whether to retain them or to follow some other guideline in determining national limits. Often, the boundaries imposed by Europeans were determined or strongly influenced by geographical factors. Particularly in West Africa a quick glance at a map shows that national boundaries relate to watersheds.

But the word “nation” implies a community of birth, a common ancestry, which often is not present. Ethnic rivalries and divisions were small concerns in the European division of Africa, but in the business of decolonization these rivalries and divisions could become forefront issues, bringing about in some cases the redrawing of national boundaries. Common experience of colonial oppression might not be sufficient to form a unified national identity.

Franz Fanon, based largely on his experience of the decolonization of Algiers, argued in his 1963 The Wretched of the Earth that decolonization is a naturally violent act, and that the violence of decolonization is not even a regrettable necessity, but a psychologically positive effort which fundamentally heals the oppressed, and which makes, in Fanon's frequent phrase “the last first”. Fanon's argument won broad support in African nationalist movements.

Fanon also argued that individuality was a notion imposed by colonizers which decolonizers could not afford to adopt. Since all with rise or be killed as one, egoism or individuality must be abandoned in the quest for national liberation. This resonates strongly with the East African emphasis on Umoja.

But what constitutes a “nation”, and to what degree is it possible to forge a “national identity” out of the colonial experience? Such an identity would seem to be more negative than positive. Why should the pre-colonial experience be forgotten, and yet at the same time, how can it be reclaimed without reviving rivalries that will set back the people of a “nation” unduly?

Pan-African movements modelled on Pan-Arab movements might be an answer, but they also create complications of sovereignty and constitution. I must admit that I do not have any clear notions of ways to solve the problem of nationalism that seem realistic. Perhaps regional confederations leading ultimately to the dissolution of national boundaries, something like the experience of Europe, is worth exploration.

Changing Identities

During colonial rule in East and Central Africa, the colonial rulers and their associates imposed identities on the indigenous populations. Notably, in this process the rulers and their associates also imposed new identities upon themselves in relationship to the identities they provided their subordinates. In reading the articles for this week, I was particularly struck by the similarities between construction of identities in Africa under the influence of European activity and such construction in North America. The consideration of the words “tribe” and “ethnicity” reminded me of the categorization exercises of Herodotus and Tacitus, and the racial divisions employed by the Hellenic-period Greeks (in, say, the numerous “Alexandrias”) or the later Romans. Divide et imperii, after all, is an old expression.

But “dividing and ruling” is only one aspect of colonial identity-making. There is also conglomeration. Both division and composition are illustrated in the work of Christian missionaries who strive to translate the Bible into local languages. Translation is a specialty of Christians, but Buddhists also have been great translators – and perhaps unsurprisingly, the work of conversion, involving translation, had led to restructuring of identities in other regions. I think particularly of the reformulation of central Asian groups under the influence of Mahayana missionaries in the 7^th century, or the effect of Chinese Buddhist missionaries in Korea in the 10^th. In these cases, as in the operations of the Jesuit Fathers in what is now Canada in the 17^th century, and as in those of missionaries in eastern and central Africa in the 19^th, decisions were made about orthography and the limits of dialect which were artificial, even strictly unnatural. Yet these decisions became binding.

Linking supposed dialectal distinctions to ethnicities or “tribes”, communities which formerly would not have self-identified were created, and in some cases gained some degree of permanency. But again, multiple dialects make uniformity and conformity more difficult to enforce. King James I knew this, and ordered a common, Authorized Version of the Bible which also created an “authorized version” of England forged from the many diverse dialects of English then existing. The process of creating the “King James Version” is strikingly like that of the creation of the Shona language in effect by legislative fiat, as recounted in Herbert Chimhundu's “Early Missionaries and the Ethnolinguistic Factor...”.

Language seems always to have a political component, as a Basque or Flemish Belgian or Quebecois might attest readily. Language is not any absolute guide to culture, but it is indicative. “German” had no “official” form until about the time of the Brothers' Grimm, which coincides fairly closely to the unification of Germany in the second half of the 19^th century, and “German” scholars and politicians had struggled since at least the 1500s to identify just what it meant to be a “German”. This problem seems not to have been resolved by the creation of a German state, so why would one expect such identifications to be any easier in another country similarly diverse? In reading Wildenthall's article on “Race, Gender, and Citizenship” I was struck by the clash between the traditional German sense of “right” (in this case the right to citizenship of every German man, and the conference of that right through marriage to his wife and through paternity to his children) and the concern for racial purity. The right is tied to ancient (or at least mediaeval) law, while the notion of racial purity seems to have been transferred from the distinction drawn between persons speaking the German language (in one of its many versions) and persons speaking other languages.

Distinguishing oneself from others can confer benefits, but can also have a substantial cost. I was almost astonished to learn that the frequently proposed distinction between the French and British colonial models turns out (in Goerg's appraisal, anyway), first of all not to have been that great, and second not to have involved so much physical separation of Europeans from “Natives” as I would have expected. In Guinea and Sierra Leone, at any rate, assimilation seems to have been the norm in both the British and the French colonial approaches. Notably, at the turn of the 19th/20^th centuries the general practice of assimilation was altered by, in the case of the British, an “hygienic” separation of the Europeans into “Hill Stations” on an Indian model, and in that of the French, an economic separation also initiated with concerns over fire safety and hygiene. These separations of “Europeans” from “Natives” had a racial or racist aspect, yet two things are surprising: first, that the British remained mostly “assimilated” rather than segregated, and that the French segregationist laws which seem perhaps more reasonable and “humanistic” on their face yet created a greater segregation than the British policies. This is a reversal of the standard interpretation of the distinction between the British and the French in respect to colonization, and I am now inclined to re-evaluate the materials on the relationship between the British and French, respectively, and the “Native” North Americans.

The general conclusion of the authors of the assigned articles is that the notion of “tribe” and “tribalism” are conveniences of colonial prejudice which sadly have persisted because they remain politically useful. The apparent fixity of “tribal” affiliation, however, is merely apparent. Tribal associations almost inevitably will change through time. They rarely have “objective” contents. But if “tribalism” itself is a mere illusion – however real the results of “tribal”association – how are people to identify themselves so as to receive the benefits (if also the responsibilities) of human community? In my own view, the ultimate answer is an effective global union, with citizenship being membership in the human species. But what to do in the meanwhile?