Justice a key issue in debate on migration
Justice a key issue in debate on migration
5 August, 2009
RUADHÁN MAC Cormaic’s recent articles on migration have brought back to the surface some concerns I have had for a while now. At the heart of these is the question of justice.
One of Karl Marx’s more provocative statements was:
Marx’s critique of political economy was that it is ahistorical and therefore blind to the factors that have created the state of affairs today. Wealthy nations are not simply wealthy by virtue of the ingenuity and industry of their population. Likewise, the poor aren’t just poor because of mismanagement of their “uncaring, corrupt leaders” or because they procreate like rabbits. As convenient as these explanations may be, they are simply wrong.
Bearing that in mind, why should people from poorer parts of the world be denied the right to live and seek employment in wealthier parts? Even if they should fail to find a job, why shouldn’t they be allowed to be unemployed in a place where poverty means the humiliation of queuing for the dole and the social exclusion that accompanies that, as opposed to starvation, sickness and eventually, death?
Years ago a group of junior doctors in Zimbabwe sat outside a run-down hospital discussing our country’s economic and political situation and the fact that our four-week salary could only be stretched as far as the first two weeks by the frugal. Having wished plagues on the country’s leadership, we started discussing our escape. Someone had heard doctors were being hired in Iraq, and the pay was fantastic. The only drawback was that Iraq was one of the few places where life expectancy was worse than in Zimbabwe. Most of us decided that poverty was a better way to go than shrapnel.
Namibia, Swaziland, Lesotho and South Africa were discussed. Maybe half of that group now work there. Someone brought up Australia and New Zealand. They were fine but it is difficult to get a job there as a doctor without work experience in a “developed country”. The US involved sitting ridiculously expensive exams – out of the question for someone struggling to feed themselves.
And then there was Britain. While it was once the destination of choice for Zimbabwean doctors (and people from every other professional background), rumour had it that it was becoming increasingly difficult for foreigner doctors to get work there. Most of us shrugged our shoulders and laughed about the fact that we weren’t really wanted anywhere. Dr Maphosa on the other hand, a typically subdued kind of person, flew into a rage. He was livid that the country that had colonised ours refused to let him work there. As far as he was concerned, the least Britain could do was to give him the opportunity to earn a living there since so many of its subjects had done well off his.
I didn’t like that argument when I first heard it. I liked the romantic notion of pulling oneself up by the bootstraps. I read management books that spoke of a sense of entitlement as the unforgivable sin. I believed that we had to move on from the past and through self-reliance, grit and determination, overcome whatever obstacles we might face.
Living in Ireland has been an effective tonic for those views. Ireland did not acquire colonies in Africa, or anywhere else for that matter. She was even colonised herself. And while this country has got a lot of things right, a good deal of her prosperity is the result of the luck of geography. Had she been situated on the east coast of Africa or the southern tip of South America, things would be different. Meeting little old ladies in Ireland that are no different from my grandmother, I can’t help but question the gulf between the quality of life they have compared to hers.
Ruadhán Mac Cormaic showed that changing attitudes towards migration extend far beyond Ireland. And those changes are understandable. We all have a survival instinct. All of us, by nature, want to ensure that our future, and that of our loved ones, at the very least remains static. But what about justice? To ensure that people from poorer nations cannot work or find shelter in wealthier ones; to hold to the claim that the poverty in those places is in no way related to the wealth here . . . I can only imagine what Maphosa would say.
5 August, 2009
RUADHÁN MAC Cormaic’s recent articles on migration have brought back to the surface some concerns I have had for a while now. At the heart of these is the question of justice.
One of Karl Marx’s more provocative statements was:
“. . . primitive accumulation plays in Political Economy about the same part as original sin in theology. Adam bit the apple, thereupon sin fell on the human race. Its origin is supposed to be as an anecdote of the past. In times long gone by there were two sorts of people; one the diligent, intelligent, and above all, frugal elite; the other, lazy rascals, spending their substance, and more, in riotous living . . . Thus it came to pass that the former sort accumulated wealth, and the latter sort had nothing to sell except their own skins. And from this original sin dates the poverty of the great majority that, despite all its labour, has up to now nothing to sell but itself, and the wealth of the few that increases constantly although they have long ceased to work . . . In actual history it is notorious that conquest, enslavement, robbery, murder . . . play the great part . . . The methods of primitive accumulation are anything but idyllic”.
Marx’s critique of political economy was that it is ahistorical and therefore blind to the factors that have created the state of affairs today. Wealthy nations are not simply wealthy by virtue of the ingenuity and industry of their population. Likewise, the poor aren’t just poor because of mismanagement of their “uncaring, corrupt leaders” or because they procreate like rabbits. As convenient as these explanations may be, they are simply wrong.
Bearing that in mind, why should people from poorer parts of the world be denied the right to live and seek employment in wealthier parts? Even if they should fail to find a job, why shouldn’t they be allowed to be unemployed in a place where poverty means the humiliation of queuing for the dole and the social exclusion that accompanies that, as opposed to starvation, sickness and eventually, death?
Years ago a group of junior doctors in Zimbabwe sat outside a run-down hospital discussing our country’s economic and political situation and the fact that our four-week salary could only be stretched as far as the first two weeks by the frugal. Having wished plagues on the country’s leadership, we started discussing our escape. Someone had heard doctors were being hired in Iraq, and the pay was fantastic. The only drawback was that Iraq was one of the few places where life expectancy was worse than in Zimbabwe. Most of us decided that poverty was a better way to go than shrapnel.
Namibia, Swaziland, Lesotho and South Africa were discussed. Maybe half of that group now work there. Someone brought up Australia and New Zealand. They were fine but it is difficult to get a job there as a doctor without work experience in a “developed country”. The US involved sitting ridiculously expensive exams – out of the question for someone struggling to feed themselves.
And then there was Britain. While it was once the destination of choice for Zimbabwean doctors (and people from every other professional background), rumour had it that it was becoming increasingly difficult for foreigner doctors to get work there. Most of us shrugged our shoulders and laughed about the fact that we weren’t really wanted anywhere. Dr Maphosa on the other hand, a typically subdued kind of person, flew into a rage. He was livid that the country that had colonised ours refused to let him work there. As far as he was concerned, the least Britain could do was to give him the opportunity to earn a living there since so many of its subjects had done well off his.
I didn’t like that argument when I first heard it. I liked the romantic notion of pulling oneself up by the bootstraps. I read management books that spoke of a sense of entitlement as the unforgivable sin. I believed that we had to move on from the past and through self-reliance, grit and determination, overcome whatever obstacles we might face.
Living in Ireland has been an effective tonic for those views. Ireland did not acquire colonies in Africa, or anywhere else for that matter. She was even colonised herself. And while this country has got a lot of things right, a good deal of her prosperity is the result of the luck of geography. Had she been situated on the east coast of Africa or the southern tip of South America, things would be different. Meeting little old ladies in Ireland that are no different from my grandmother, I can’t help but question the gulf between the quality of life they have compared to hers.
Ruadhán Mac Cormaic showed that changing attitudes towards migration extend far beyond Ireland. And those changes are understandable. We all have a survival instinct. All of us, by nature, want to ensure that our future, and that of our loved ones, at the very least remains static. But what about justice? To ensure that people from poorer nations cannot work or find shelter in wealthier ones; to hold to the claim that the poverty in those places is in no way related to the wealth here . . . I can only imagine what Maphosa would say.
Powersharing deal too late to save Zimbabwe
Powersharing deal too late to save Zimbabwe
12 February, 2009
I REMEMBER Zimbabwe in the late 1980s and early 1990s. Around that time, foreign soap operas were introduced on to the local television station. At first, people were gripped. Shows like Australia’s Neighbours , and, from the United States, Santa Barbara , managed to captivate us.
Inevitably though, these got tiresome. A person can only wait for so many weeks for a door knob to be turned or for the truth about a pregnancy to finally come out. One by one, all but the most die-hard fans fell away by the wayside and the soap craze died.
Unfortunately, something similar has happened to Zimbabwean politics. This time last year there was growing excitement at the prospect of a change in government after years of displeasure with the status quo. Following the opposition’s victory in the March polls, it was as though a new era had dawned.
Over time, though, that hope was stillborn. It never came to fruition. The cruellest part of it all was that instead of things just going back to the way they were, they deteriorated in ways that, until then, had been unimaginable for most of us.
What happens to a dream deferred? The very soul of Zimbabwe has festered and the rot has manifested itself in the form of a cholera outbreak, starvation, thirst and despondency. Yet like the soap that has grown old, the politics and governance of the country now interests few people within its own borders and beyond.
The man who should be the country’s president was yesterday sworn in as its prime minister by the man who should, at best, be living out his remaining days in the company of the many ghosts that must surely haunt him.
Because a similar compromise worked in Kenya, it is hoped that the government of national unity will help restore stability and that Zimbabwe will begin the process of rebuilding a broken nation.
I can only wonder what went through Morgan Tsvangirai’s mind as he stood there, being sworn in as prime minister. Did his mind drift into the past?
Did he ponder comparisons between the challenges of being a trade union member in the dying days of the Ian Smith regime as opposed to those under an angry Mugabe regime?
Did he think of his imperfect deal with Mugabe being similar to the flawed Lancaster House constitution which was imposed on the country in exchange for independent rule? I wonder if he looked back at all the opportunities he had in the past to make a deal with the president before the country’s infrastructure fell apart.
One could argue that if he was going to eventually reach a settlement with his old foe, it would have been better to do so before the relationship between the two sides had become so toxic.
Maybe Tsvangirai will stand tall with his head raised high in the knowledge that he fought the good fight on behalf of those who couldn’t.
As for Mugabe, there is no point in trying to work out what goes through his head any more. Having undergone the process of being a “terrorist”, freedom fighter, liberation war hero, statesman, dictator and “madman”, he is now just a shell.
What lies behind the expensive suit and trendy sunglasses that are Mugabe is at best a relic.
He may huff and puff and threaten to blow the house down, but I doubt that even his closest lieutenants still take him seriously. He is now just a dark cloud that the country is waiting to be done with.
The greatest obstacle to the agreement between Mugabe and Tsvangirai will be their deputies and foot soldiers. These converts will lock horns and will almost certainly ensure that the whole thing comes crashing down, if it ever gets off the ground.
If the parties can stay in government long enough to see real changes to the constitution, if the opposition gains a little experience governing, and if the suffering of the most vulnerable is alleviated, the sham “unity government” will have been worthwhile.
Hopefully, in the process, the opposition is not co-opted into the ruling party structures, or worse, indoctrinated with Zanu-PF ideology.
12 February, 2009
I REMEMBER Zimbabwe in the late 1980s and early 1990s. Around that time, foreign soap operas were introduced on to the local television station. At first, people were gripped. Shows like Australia’s Neighbours , and, from the United States, Santa Barbara , managed to captivate us.
Inevitably though, these got tiresome. A person can only wait for so many weeks for a door knob to be turned or for the truth about a pregnancy to finally come out. One by one, all but the most die-hard fans fell away by the wayside and the soap craze died.
Unfortunately, something similar has happened to Zimbabwean politics. This time last year there was growing excitement at the prospect of a change in government after years of displeasure with the status quo. Following the opposition’s victory in the March polls, it was as though a new era had dawned.
Over time, though, that hope was stillborn. It never came to fruition. The cruellest part of it all was that instead of things just going back to the way they were, they deteriorated in ways that, until then, had been unimaginable for most of us.
What happens to a dream deferred? The very soul of Zimbabwe has festered and the rot has manifested itself in the form of a cholera outbreak, starvation, thirst and despondency. Yet like the soap that has grown old, the politics and governance of the country now interests few people within its own borders and beyond.
The man who should be the country’s president was yesterday sworn in as its prime minister by the man who should, at best, be living out his remaining days in the company of the many ghosts that must surely haunt him.
Because a similar compromise worked in Kenya, it is hoped that the government of national unity will help restore stability and that Zimbabwe will begin the process of rebuilding a broken nation.
I can only wonder what went through Morgan Tsvangirai’s mind as he stood there, being sworn in as prime minister. Did his mind drift into the past?
Did he ponder comparisons between the challenges of being a trade union member in the dying days of the Ian Smith regime as opposed to those under an angry Mugabe regime?
Did he think of his imperfect deal with Mugabe being similar to the flawed Lancaster House constitution which was imposed on the country in exchange for independent rule? I wonder if he looked back at all the opportunities he had in the past to make a deal with the president before the country’s infrastructure fell apart.
One could argue that if he was going to eventually reach a settlement with his old foe, it would have been better to do so before the relationship between the two sides had become so toxic.
Maybe Tsvangirai will stand tall with his head raised high in the knowledge that he fought the good fight on behalf of those who couldn’t.
As for Mugabe, there is no point in trying to work out what goes through his head any more. Having undergone the process of being a “terrorist”, freedom fighter, liberation war hero, statesman, dictator and “madman”, he is now just a shell.
What lies behind the expensive suit and trendy sunglasses that are Mugabe is at best a relic.
He may huff and puff and threaten to blow the house down, but I doubt that even his closest lieutenants still take him seriously. He is now just a dark cloud that the country is waiting to be done with.
The greatest obstacle to the agreement between Mugabe and Tsvangirai will be their deputies and foot soldiers. These converts will lock horns and will almost certainly ensure that the whole thing comes crashing down, if it ever gets off the ground.
If the parties can stay in government long enough to see real changes to the constitution, if the opposition gains a little experience governing, and if the suffering of the most vulnerable is alleviated, the sham “unity government” will have been worthwhile.
Hopefully, in the process, the opposition is not co-opted into the ruling party structures, or worse, indoctrinated with Zanu-PF ideology.
Africa's problems require an informed and radical response
Africa's problems require an informed and radical response
27 December, 2008
When I was young, my father enjoyed making fun of us, his children.
When in an especially good mood, so good that he could look back on hardship and laugh at it, he would tell us about how good we had it.
"When I was your age, we would eat meat only at Christmas," he would claim. "Presents? What are those? When I was young, you were lucky if you got a new pair of shoes for Christmas," he would say.
It would go on until my sister had sulked long enough for him to confess he had no intentions of making our plight anything like his. None of my father's children will be spending their Christmas in Zimbabwe this year. But many other people's children will be in Zimbabwe, in makeshift refugee camps in South Africa, in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and in Sudan.
For many of these people, the kind of modest celebration my father would have expected on Christmas Day, decades ago, would be a dream come true. Good health, a meal shared with one's family, the hope of a better year to come, and perhaps, time spent reflecting on the idea of the immortal having lived in their skin and trod their path. That these things, far more than creature comforts, have been robbed from people living in conflict areas around the world, and particularly in parts of Africa, is tragic.
I have just finished reading Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's Half of a Yellow Sun. In this incredible novel, Adichie traces the fate of two sisters during the Nigerian-Biafran war that occurred in the late 1960s. She vividly brings to life the hardship and suffering that was brought on by that conflict.
Most importantly, I think, is the way Adichie shows how quickly people get lost in their anger and hate. How violence becomes a cycle and people stop being able to see their "enemies" as former friends, neighbours and colleagues.
Asked in an interview whether people in Nigeria still speak about the war, Adichie said: "I find that it is mostly talked about in uninformed and unimaginative ways. People repeat the same things they have been told without having a full grasp of the complex nature of the war, or they hold militant positions lacking in nuance."
I find that the same tends to be true of discussions on all African conflict. More worrying than the uninformed are those who chose to reduce these complicated issues to simple, black-and-white constructs. Zimbabwe is where it is because Mugabe is a horrible corrupt little man who has stolen everything. Darfur is a mess because China wants Sudan's oil. And Congo - that probably has something to do with Africans just not knowing how to make nice with each other, or, in the words of an acquaintance, their "corrupt leaders don't care about their people".
There is more truth in some of those statements than in others, but all are, at best, far too simplistic.
The problem with simplistic, or sometimes plain wrong diagnoses, is that the prescribed solutions that are derived from them will almost certainly be wrong. At best, there may be a transient improvement, but if the underlying condition is not addressed, the consequences could be catastrophic.
So what is the underlying condition in places like Zimbabwe and Congo? I cannot answer that question with certainty. But I would suggest that the systemic nature of the continent's problems, in the countries that are doing well and those that are struggling, means that there is probably a systemic problem. As important as it is to deal with the immediate crises, the same attention should go into investigating underlying causes and attempting to address them.
That said, a good starting place can be found in the words that Adichie ascribes to the charismatic Odenigbo in her novel, who says: "The real tragedy of our postcolonial world is not that the majority of people had no say in whether or not they wanted this new world; rather, it is that the majority have not been given the tools to negotiate this new world."
With that in mind, is it any wonder that Mugabe can, without shame, make claims like "Zimbabwe is mine", that "only God" could remove him from office, and my personal favourite: "We will never allow an event like an election to reverse our independence . . . "
Is it any wonder that Rwanda's military establishment has no qualms about crossing borders and ignoring the principle of state sovereignty in order to settle tribal scores.
There is often a disconnect between the "international community" and the African Union (AU) and Southern African Development Community (SADC) because the latter have not wholeheartedly stepped into the world of the former. Thus, while there is a chorus crying out for the removal of Robert Mugabe, the official AU position is still that a unity government with either Mugabe or one of his men at the head, is the best solution.
This bridge will be crossed when either the AU and SADC learn to negotiate their way around this world, or when they alter their legal and governing structures. Both solutions come with their problems, but both could also result in more stable and prosperous, though very different, societies. Either way, true stability will come when Africa commits to either course.
Until those foundations are laid, there will continue to be people who are displaced, hungry, ill or missing at Christmas. For every Mugabe or al Bashir that is weeded out, others will sprout.
27 December, 2008
When I was young, my father enjoyed making fun of us, his children.
When in an especially good mood, so good that he could look back on hardship and laugh at it, he would tell us about how good we had it.
"When I was your age, we would eat meat only at Christmas," he would claim. "Presents? What are those? When I was young, you were lucky if you got a new pair of shoes for Christmas," he would say.
It would go on until my sister had sulked long enough for him to confess he had no intentions of making our plight anything like his. None of my father's children will be spending their Christmas in Zimbabwe this year. But many other people's children will be in Zimbabwe, in makeshift refugee camps in South Africa, in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and in Sudan.
For many of these people, the kind of modest celebration my father would have expected on Christmas Day, decades ago, would be a dream come true. Good health, a meal shared with one's family, the hope of a better year to come, and perhaps, time spent reflecting on the idea of the immortal having lived in their skin and trod their path. That these things, far more than creature comforts, have been robbed from people living in conflict areas around the world, and particularly in parts of Africa, is tragic.
I have just finished reading Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie's Half of a Yellow Sun. In this incredible novel, Adichie traces the fate of two sisters during the Nigerian-Biafran war that occurred in the late 1960s. She vividly brings to life the hardship and suffering that was brought on by that conflict.
Most importantly, I think, is the way Adichie shows how quickly people get lost in their anger and hate. How violence becomes a cycle and people stop being able to see their "enemies" as former friends, neighbours and colleagues.
Asked in an interview whether people in Nigeria still speak about the war, Adichie said: "I find that it is mostly talked about in uninformed and unimaginative ways. People repeat the same things they have been told without having a full grasp of the complex nature of the war, or they hold militant positions lacking in nuance."
I find that the same tends to be true of discussions on all African conflict. More worrying than the uninformed are those who chose to reduce these complicated issues to simple, black-and-white constructs. Zimbabwe is where it is because Mugabe is a horrible corrupt little man who has stolen everything. Darfur is a mess because China wants Sudan's oil. And Congo - that probably has something to do with Africans just not knowing how to make nice with each other, or, in the words of an acquaintance, their "corrupt leaders don't care about their people".
There is more truth in some of those statements than in others, but all are, at best, far too simplistic.
The problem with simplistic, or sometimes plain wrong diagnoses, is that the prescribed solutions that are derived from them will almost certainly be wrong. At best, there may be a transient improvement, but if the underlying condition is not addressed, the consequences could be catastrophic.
So what is the underlying condition in places like Zimbabwe and Congo? I cannot answer that question with certainty. But I would suggest that the systemic nature of the continent's problems, in the countries that are doing well and those that are struggling, means that there is probably a systemic problem. As important as it is to deal with the immediate crises, the same attention should go into investigating underlying causes and attempting to address them.
That said, a good starting place can be found in the words that Adichie ascribes to the charismatic Odenigbo in her novel, who says: "The real tragedy of our postcolonial world is not that the majority of people had no say in whether or not they wanted this new world; rather, it is that the majority have not been given the tools to negotiate this new world."
With that in mind, is it any wonder that Mugabe can, without shame, make claims like "Zimbabwe is mine", that "only God" could remove him from office, and my personal favourite: "We will never allow an event like an election to reverse our independence . . . "
Is it any wonder that Rwanda's military establishment has no qualms about crossing borders and ignoring the principle of state sovereignty in order to settle tribal scores.
There is often a disconnect between the "international community" and the African Union (AU) and Southern African Development Community (SADC) because the latter have not wholeheartedly stepped into the world of the former. Thus, while there is a chorus crying out for the removal of Robert Mugabe, the official AU position is still that a unity government with either Mugabe or one of his men at the head, is the best solution.
This bridge will be crossed when either the AU and SADC learn to negotiate their way around this world, or when they alter their legal and governing structures. Both solutions come with their problems, but both could also result in more stable and prosperous, though very different, societies. Either way, true stability will come when Africa commits to either course.
Until those foundations are laid, there will continue to be people who are displaced, hungry, ill or missing at Christmas. For every Mugabe or al Bashir that is weeded out, others will sprout.
A reminder of our obligation to each other
A reminder of our obligation to each other
9 December, 2008
I WONDER how many people know what the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR) is, or what it says. I wonder how many feel that human rights are just some fluffy idea concocted by lefties who live beyond the realms of reality. I'm not just talking about the Scrooges who will publicly cry "Humbug!" at any mention of human rights, but also ordinary folk who would not dare publicise their low estimation of the concept.
To be honest, before I came across the document in a class, I had never read the declaration, nor did I think I needed to. I knew as much about human rights as the next person, if not more. I knew that human rights violations occurred in places like Burma, parts of China, Guantánamo, and of course, Zimbabwe. Like most people, I imagine, I did not think that I needed to read the UDHR to know what it contained. When I did, my opinion changed. The 60th anniversary of the signing of the document - tomorrow - is probably a good time to share some thoughts on it.
The UDHR is an incredibly beautiful, but also irritatingly frustrating work. I am never sure whether the ideals expressed in it are utopian, or are a basic minimum that I have just ceased to recognise because of the reality of the environment in which they exist. Sometimes, considering reality, I wonder how anyone could have penned such a work.
The core of the declaration is expressed in the first line of the first article, which states that "all human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights". There have been times when I have read the whole declaration and been moved, almost to the point of tears. More often than not, however, I get stuck at the first article because of the frustration and anger that overcome me when I think about the discrepancy between it and the real world.
For starters, the UDHR was signed in 1948. The way the story is commonly told, its drafting and signing was an international affair and people from all over the world were involved. And while there may have been an Egyptian here and an Indian there during the process, the population of the world that lives south of the equator was at best an afterthought.
Europe, for example, still owned Africa, and India had only just ceased to be British property. The United States was still a segregated nation, a generation away from the protests and strife that would lead to the signing of the Civil Rights Bill. The only way that Europe or the US, for example, could claim to support the tenets of the UDHR at that time would be if they decided that certain groups were not really human beings. That, or the entire process was a sham.
The past, important as it is in helping us make sense of both the present and the future, is past. It would be wrong to throw out an idea as important as the universality of human rights because of the manner in which it was introduced.
Yet, even if we move on from that past and look at the world today, I cannot be the only person who does not believe that all people, irrespective of nationality, gender, religion and ethnicity, are either "born free" or are "equal in dignity and rights".
It is just not true. It is not true in the obviously rotten parts of the world, but it isn't even true in places like Ireland.
There is no way that the asylum seeker who is not allowed the dignity of work has equal rights to the rest of society. That person, potentially fleeing far worse violations, will in all likelihood have to endure years in limbo.
He or she will have to endure not knowing what tomorrow may bring, fully aware that their future may ultimately rest on which side of the bed some bureaucrat wakes up. In response to their plight, one could totally ignore the spirit of the UDHR and argue that a state can only guarantee the rights of her citizens.
Even if that were the case, there are plenty of Irish citizens who feel that they are less equal than others, and with good reason. I have heard people speak openly about the Traveller community in ways that they would not dare speak of black or Asian people.
Beyond minorities, a friend who comes from a poor, rural family in the west of Ireland is adamant that he is no more "equal in dignity and rights" to people from south Dublin as the asylum seeker is equal to the economic migrant with a well-paying job. They may look alike, but the options they have available to them, and the manner in which society and the State relates to them, is very different.
Don't get me wrong - this is in no way an attempt to portray Ireland in the same light as states that clearly treat people and their rights with contempt. I would far rather live in the one country than the others. But even as I revel in the civil liberties we all enjoy in this country, the UDHR demands more of society than freedom from arbitrary arrest and the freedom to choose one's government.
Mary Robinson once said: "Human rights are the business of everyone." I think she was right. The strength of a document like the UDHR is not in how extensively it is quoted in nations' constitutions, but how well it is known by ordinary people and how they interpret it. As important as it is to have such a bold statement in the public domain, the real strength of the declaration is the way in which it challenges us all to think about our obligations to each other.
For those who have not read the document and have no intention of doing so, I offer my summary: I am my brother's keeper.
9 December, 2008
I WONDER how many people know what the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR) is, or what it says. I wonder how many feel that human rights are just some fluffy idea concocted by lefties who live beyond the realms of reality. I'm not just talking about the Scrooges who will publicly cry "Humbug!" at any mention of human rights, but also ordinary folk who would not dare publicise their low estimation of the concept.
To be honest, before I came across the document in a class, I had never read the declaration, nor did I think I needed to. I knew as much about human rights as the next person, if not more. I knew that human rights violations occurred in places like Burma, parts of China, Guantánamo, and of course, Zimbabwe. Like most people, I imagine, I did not think that I needed to read the UDHR to know what it contained. When I did, my opinion changed. The 60th anniversary of the signing of the document - tomorrow - is probably a good time to share some thoughts on it.
The UDHR is an incredibly beautiful, but also irritatingly frustrating work. I am never sure whether the ideals expressed in it are utopian, or are a basic minimum that I have just ceased to recognise because of the reality of the environment in which they exist. Sometimes, considering reality, I wonder how anyone could have penned such a work.
The core of the declaration is expressed in the first line of the first article, which states that "all human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights". There have been times when I have read the whole declaration and been moved, almost to the point of tears. More often than not, however, I get stuck at the first article because of the frustration and anger that overcome me when I think about the discrepancy between it and the real world.
For starters, the UDHR was signed in 1948. The way the story is commonly told, its drafting and signing was an international affair and people from all over the world were involved. And while there may have been an Egyptian here and an Indian there during the process, the population of the world that lives south of the equator was at best an afterthought.
Europe, for example, still owned Africa, and India had only just ceased to be British property. The United States was still a segregated nation, a generation away from the protests and strife that would lead to the signing of the Civil Rights Bill. The only way that Europe or the US, for example, could claim to support the tenets of the UDHR at that time would be if they decided that certain groups were not really human beings. That, or the entire process was a sham.
The past, important as it is in helping us make sense of both the present and the future, is past. It would be wrong to throw out an idea as important as the universality of human rights because of the manner in which it was introduced.
Yet, even if we move on from that past and look at the world today, I cannot be the only person who does not believe that all people, irrespective of nationality, gender, religion and ethnicity, are either "born free" or are "equal in dignity and rights".
It is just not true. It is not true in the obviously rotten parts of the world, but it isn't even true in places like Ireland.
There is no way that the asylum seeker who is not allowed the dignity of work has equal rights to the rest of society. That person, potentially fleeing far worse violations, will in all likelihood have to endure years in limbo.
He or she will have to endure not knowing what tomorrow may bring, fully aware that their future may ultimately rest on which side of the bed some bureaucrat wakes up. In response to their plight, one could totally ignore the spirit of the UDHR and argue that a state can only guarantee the rights of her citizens.
Even if that were the case, there are plenty of Irish citizens who feel that they are less equal than others, and with good reason. I have heard people speak openly about the Traveller community in ways that they would not dare speak of black or Asian people.
Beyond minorities, a friend who comes from a poor, rural family in the west of Ireland is adamant that he is no more "equal in dignity and rights" to people from south Dublin as the asylum seeker is equal to the economic migrant with a well-paying job. They may look alike, but the options they have available to them, and the manner in which society and the State relates to them, is very different.
Don't get me wrong - this is in no way an attempt to portray Ireland in the same light as states that clearly treat people and their rights with contempt. I would far rather live in the one country than the others. But even as I revel in the civil liberties we all enjoy in this country, the UDHR demands more of society than freedom from arbitrary arrest and the freedom to choose one's government.
Mary Robinson once said: "Human rights are the business of everyone." I think she was right. The strength of a document like the UDHR is not in how extensively it is quoted in nations' constitutions, but how well it is known by ordinary people and how they interpret it. As important as it is to have such a bold statement in the public domain, the real strength of the declaration is the way in which it challenges us all to think about our obligations to each other.
For those who have not read the document and have no intention of doing so, I offer my summary: I am my brother's keeper.
Ripple effect of Obama's rich inspiration
Ripple effect of Obama's rich inspiration
7 November, 2008
I am not American, and Obama's functional role in the future matters little to me at the moment.
What really matters to me are the implications of his election to a continent in desperate need of hope, and to minorities like myself around the world.
The late Edward Said wrote in his memoir: "Everyone lives life in a given language; everyone's experiences therefore are had, absorbed, and recalled in that language."
Though we often assume that languages can easily be translated from one to another, that is not always the case. Much is lost in translation because words and phrases in one language do not always exist in another. In many ways, race is like a language. One's subjective and actual experience of life would be very different were one able to switch race.
Barack Obama's victory is priceless because it suggests that in the world's most powerful nation, success beyond one's wildest dreams translates into many languages.
I had the privilege, growing up in southern Africa, of attending multiracial schools. I say privilege because I got to know people of other races as individuals. I accepted the conventional wisdom of the time. It stated there was something in white people that made them better than black people. It was a wisdom accepted by both black and white.
Conversely, it was also widely believed that there was something in the very genetic nature of black people that made us less capable. That while we were as human as anyone else, we were not endowed with the same talents that allowed others to breathe life into their dreams and accomplish great things.
I turned out to be one of the better students in my school. News of this quickly reached members of my extended family. At a gathering, an elderly uncle took me aside.
He particularly wanted to know if I had performed better than any of the white students. For him, a man who spent most of his life in a British colony, there was an established social order. White people were "better" in just about every sense.
That a young man whom he saw as his grandchild defied this idea warmed his heart.
I really wish he were alive today to celebrate Obama's success.
When I travelled to less developed countries in the region, people would often remark that my country - Zimbabwe - was fortunate to have had colonial settlers who had invested in basic infrastructure such as roads and railways.
The insinuation was that black people were not wired to develop their own countries. A white schoolmate put it bluntly: "You black guys should be grateful . . . If it weren't for us, you'd still be living in mud huts."
My personal experience as a black person, and worse, as an African, has been that my equality with others is often challenged.
Even before my homeland's economic collapse, it costs tens or even hundreds of our dollars for one American one. While as a country we were eager to attract as many tourists as possible, few of us were eligible for visas to travel abroad.
When an African state makes it on to the news, it is usually because of war or famine. And while there are plenty of entertainers and athletes of colour on the world stage, few of us are on that stage wearing suits and engaged in weighty matters. Public perception and daily reality can, in my language, sound like the accusation that there is something problematic about my blackness.
That is why I am grateful to president-elect Barack Obama and the people of America. His election means a lot of different things to a lot of people.
What resonates for most is a sense of hope and a turning of the page. It does not so much mark the end of past realities as much as it inspires confidence for a fresh start.
And even where things have not changed and the slate cannot be wiped clean, he has inspired hope for progress.
So while I don't expect the rival groups in the Democratic Republic of the Congo to lay down their arms in response to the election, I do expect the people of that nation and beyond to have a renewed desire and impetus for peace and stability.
In his acceptance speech, Obama asked the audience to consider the next 100 years and the influence this generation will have had.
I cannot really speak for other regions, but I have a fair idea of what the African continent will see. Thanks in no small part to Obama's election, she will witness a continent whose people "refuse to die from ignorance, hunger and thirst any longer".
A generation that is not content to be the recipient of the world's pity, but builds strong, viable, free nations.
A people who have sung and lived out Still I Rise, Maya Angelou's poem.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope
of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
7 November, 2008
I am not American, and Obama's functional role in the future matters little to me at the moment.
What really matters to me are the implications of his election to a continent in desperate need of hope, and to minorities like myself around the world.
The late Edward Said wrote in his memoir: "Everyone lives life in a given language; everyone's experiences therefore are had, absorbed, and recalled in that language."
Though we often assume that languages can easily be translated from one to another, that is not always the case. Much is lost in translation because words and phrases in one language do not always exist in another. In many ways, race is like a language. One's subjective and actual experience of life would be very different were one able to switch race.
Barack Obama's victory is priceless because it suggests that in the world's most powerful nation, success beyond one's wildest dreams translates into many languages.
I had the privilege, growing up in southern Africa, of attending multiracial schools. I say privilege because I got to know people of other races as individuals. I accepted the conventional wisdom of the time. It stated there was something in white people that made them better than black people. It was a wisdom accepted by both black and white.
Conversely, it was also widely believed that there was something in the very genetic nature of black people that made us less capable. That while we were as human as anyone else, we were not endowed with the same talents that allowed others to breathe life into their dreams and accomplish great things.
I turned out to be one of the better students in my school. News of this quickly reached members of my extended family. At a gathering, an elderly uncle took me aside.
He particularly wanted to know if I had performed better than any of the white students. For him, a man who spent most of his life in a British colony, there was an established social order. White people were "better" in just about every sense.
That a young man whom he saw as his grandchild defied this idea warmed his heart.
I really wish he were alive today to celebrate Obama's success.
When I travelled to less developed countries in the region, people would often remark that my country - Zimbabwe - was fortunate to have had colonial settlers who had invested in basic infrastructure such as roads and railways.
The insinuation was that black people were not wired to develop their own countries. A white schoolmate put it bluntly: "You black guys should be grateful . . . If it weren't for us, you'd still be living in mud huts."
My personal experience as a black person, and worse, as an African, has been that my equality with others is often challenged.
Even before my homeland's economic collapse, it costs tens or even hundreds of our dollars for one American one. While as a country we were eager to attract as many tourists as possible, few of us were eligible for visas to travel abroad.
When an African state makes it on to the news, it is usually because of war or famine. And while there are plenty of entertainers and athletes of colour on the world stage, few of us are on that stage wearing suits and engaged in weighty matters. Public perception and daily reality can, in my language, sound like the accusation that there is something problematic about my blackness.
That is why I am grateful to president-elect Barack Obama and the people of America. His election means a lot of different things to a lot of people.
What resonates for most is a sense of hope and a turning of the page. It does not so much mark the end of past realities as much as it inspires confidence for a fresh start.
And even where things have not changed and the slate cannot be wiped clean, he has inspired hope for progress.
So while I don't expect the rival groups in the Democratic Republic of the Congo to lay down their arms in response to the election, I do expect the people of that nation and beyond to have a renewed desire and impetus for peace and stability.
In his acceptance speech, Obama asked the audience to consider the next 100 years and the influence this generation will have had.
I cannot really speak for other regions, but I have a fair idea of what the African continent will see. Thanks in no small part to Obama's election, she will witness a continent whose people "refuse to die from ignorance, hunger and thirst any longer".
A generation that is not content to be the recipient of the world's pity, but builds strong, viable, free nations.
A people who have sung and lived out Still I Rise, Maya Angelou's poem.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope
of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
What's wrong with having a Muslim for president?
What's wrong with having a Muslim for president?
23 October, 2008
A FEW WEEKS ago, an American friend told me that she wanted her country's elections to come to a close sooner rather than later.
I was a little surprised. The elections have been more entertaining than anything else on television all year. They have been better than even the Olympics. They started before the games, and were still a great source of drama months later.
So why was my friend, a person as fascinated by politics as I, not enjoying the race? She said it was because presidential elections divide the country. As a person who is not from the United States, I must confess that I was not moved by her concerns very much. Admittedly, I think the whole system is a silly way to pick a leader, ridiculous in fact. But even though I have heard people argue that the idea behind football is just as ridiculous, I still watch the sport. However, over the last couple of weeks, things have changed. I too am now sick of the whole thing and want it to end.
It started with the use of the word "terrorist" at Republican Party campaign rallies. Then there was the use of Barack Obama's middle name - he even joked recently that he was clearly named Hussein by someone who did not think that he would ever run for president.
The icing on the cake was the woman who, at a town hall meeting, told John McCain that she was afraid of Obama because he was an Arab. McCain promptly took the microphone from her and went on to explain that Obama was not an Arab, but was instead, a decent family man. For that intervention, McCain was praised by some in the media for having "defended" Obama.
Some analysts and political commentators have criticised the McCain campaign for propagating the idea that Obama is a Muslim and "pals around" with terrorists. What surprises me is that while there seems to be a lot of outrage at the false Muslim allegations, the same is not true of the implication that Islam equates to terrorism. Why is it that the description "decent family man" can be thrown out as a counter to the suggestion that one is an Arab?
As The Daily Show's Jon Stewart noted, are there no Arabs who are decent men with families they love? Would a "no Ma'am, he is an American citizen" not have sufficed?
The optimist in me believes that with respect to prejudice, the world has made considerable progress and it is now only a matter of time before racism fades away. But sometimes I wonder if people just need an "other" on whom they can cast their doubts and fears.
Maybe different groups just take turns at being the victim. Jewish people had a stint, black people are hopefully coming out of theirs, and it looks like the group of the moment are the Muslims. All it took was one or two unhinged groups and a couple of acts of terrorism. Now, one can almost publicly say things like "they don't like us", "they have a violent culture", or "they think we are all infidels and want to take over the West".
As for who "they" are, that's obvious - people with names like Hussein and people who wear headscarves. It's not just an American phenomenon either. In July, the Daily Mail's Peter Oborne wrote: "Islamophobia - prejudice against Islam - is Britain's last remaining socially respectable form of bigotry . . ."
I think that allegation holds for much of Europe. My German friend, for example, who is often mistaken for a Muslim due to his complexion, is frequently called a terrorist on the bus in Berlin. As for real Muslims who stand out because of their dress, there have been more than a few complaints of prejudice. All because of an extreme fringe group, which is probably no more representative of the whole as the Ku Klux Klan would be of white America today.
I think Colin Powell put it best. He said that pictures of such bigotry were being viewed in the rest of the world and did not serve America's interests. He also asked why a Muslim could not run for the presidency. And that is a good point. Catholics can become president and it is looking like the same is true of black people. The jury is still out on women.
What about other groups? If the idea of a Latino or a Muslim in the White House is beyond belief, what does that say of American society? Either the White House is strictly reserved for those who profess to be orthodox Christians (that excludes Mormons like Mitt Romney) and the whole notion of plurality is a lie, or something has gone wrong.
If the US is the most progressive nation in these matters, what are the implications for western democracies? Is the idea of people being judged on merit, by the content of their character rather than on characteristics like race and religion just an illusion?
I do not know what it is like to be a Muslim today, but I do know a thing or two about being a minority. Most minorities, in my experience, tend to look to the broader society for clues as to where they fit. There is an insecurity that is inherent in being defined as different.
In the same way Obama's success will lead to more African-Americans engaging in the wider society, the allusions to Islam and terrorism in election events may have the opposite effect with Muslims and people of other non-Christian faiths. Because America is America, that will have ripple effects beyond that nation's borders.
Thankfully, in about two weeks this process will be behind us. The politics of race and religion will eventually fade into the background. People will be able to focus squarely on their finances, or pick any number of distractions. And hopefully, the scars of this election will not be too disfiguring.
23 October, 2008
A FEW WEEKS ago, an American friend told me that she wanted her country's elections to come to a close sooner rather than later.
I was a little surprised. The elections have been more entertaining than anything else on television all year. They have been better than even the Olympics. They started before the games, and were still a great source of drama months later.
So why was my friend, a person as fascinated by politics as I, not enjoying the race? She said it was because presidential elections divide the country. As a person who is not from the United States, I must confess that I was not moved by her concerns very much. Admittedly, I think the whole system is a silly way to pick a leader, ridiculous in fact. But even though I have heard people argue that the idea behind football is just as ridiculous, I still watch the sport. However, over the last couple of weeks, things have changed. I too am now sick of the whole thing and want it to end.
It started with the use of the word "terrorist" at Republican Party campaign rallies. Then there was the use of Barack Obama's middle name - he even joked recently that he was clearly named Hussein by someone who did not think that he would ever run for president.
The icing on the cake was the woman who, at a town hall meeting, told John McCain that she was afraid of Obama because he was an Arab. McCain promptly took the microphone from her and went on to explain that Obama was not an Arab, but was instead, a decent family man. For that intervention, McCain was praised by some in the media for having "defended" Obama.
Some analysts and political commentators have criticised the McCain campaign for propagating the idea that Obama is a Muslim and "pals around" with terrorists. What surprises me is that while there seems to be a lot of outrage at the false Muslim allegations, the same is not true of the implication that Islam equates to terrorism. Why is it that the description "decent family man" can be thrown out as a counter to the suggestion that one is an Arab?
As The Daily Show's Jon Stewart noted, are there no Arabs who are decent men with families they love? Would a "no Ma'am, he is an American citizen" not have sufficed?
The optimist in me believes that with respect to prejudice, the world has made considerable progress and it is now only a matter of time before racism fades away. But sometimes I wonder if people just need an "other" on whom they can cast their doubts and fears.
Maybe different groups just take turns at being the victim. Jewish people had a stint, black people are hopefully coming out of theirs, and it looks like the group of the moment are the Muslims. All it took was one or two unhinged groups and a couple of acts of terrorism. Now, one can almost publicly say things like "they don't like us", "they have a violent culture", or "they think we are all infidels and want to take over the West".
As for who "they" are, that's obvious - people with names like Hussein and people who wear headscarves. It's not just an American phenomenon either. In July, the Daily Mail's Peter Oborne wrote: "Islamophobia - prejudice against Islam - is Britain's last remaining socially respectable form of bigotry . . ."
I think that allegation holds for much of Europe. My German friend, for example, who is often mistaken for a Muslim due to his complexion, is frequently called a terrorist on the bus in Berlin. As for real Muslims who stand out because of their dress, there have been more than a few complaints of prejudice. All because of an extreme fringe group, which is probably no more representative of the whole as the Ku Klux Klan would be of white America today.
I think Colin Powell put it best. He said that pictures of such bigotry were being viewed in the rest of the world and did not serve America's interests. He also asked why a Muslim could not run for the presidency. And that is a good point. Catholics can become president and it is looking like the same is true of black people. The jury is still out on women.
What about other groups? If the idea of a Latino or a Muslim in the White House is beyond belief, what does that say of American society? Either the White House is strictly reserved for those who profess to be orthodox Christians (that excludes Mormons like Mitt Romney) and the whole notion of plurality is a lie, or something has gone wrong.
If the US is the most progressive nation in these matters, what are the implications for western democracies? Is the idea of people being judged on merit, by the content of their character rather than on characteristics like race and religion just an illusion?
I do not know what it is like to be a Muslim today, but I do know a thing or two about being a minority. Most minorities, in my experience, tend to look to the broader society for clues as to where they fit. There is an insecurity that is inherent in being defined as different.
In the same way Obama's success will lead to more African-Americans engaging in the wider society, the allusions to Islam and terrorism in election events may have the opposite effect with Muslims and people of other non-Christian faiths. Because America is America, that will have ripple effects beyond that nation's borders.
Thankfully, in about two weeks this process will be behind us. The politics of race and religion will eventually fade into the background. People will be able to focus squarely on their finances, or pick any number of distractions. And hopefully, the scars of this election will not be too disfiguring.
More to Mbeki's legacy than Aids folly
More to Mbeki's legacy than Aids folly
24 September, 2008
I FEEL FOR retiring president of South Africa Thabo Mbeki. He is in danger of being remembered for all the wrong reasons. The biggest blot on his career is the stance he took on Aids. Mbeki, for reasons best known to himself, chose to endorse the views of some dissident scientists who claimed the primary cause of the disease was not viral. To make matters worse his government's health policy on Aids was based on that thinking.
South Africa became a laughing stock when senior figures in government suggested multivitamins and beetroot could be used in place of antiretroviral drugs. The worst part of that episode is that Mbeki is not stupid. The world could have handled, and may even have been sympathetic to, genuine ignorance. A stubborn refusal to listen to experts and an insistence on basing one's health policy on one's own research, especially if the individual in question is an economist, is very difficult to forgive. Which is why to this day, any mention of Mbeki will likely lead to a discussion on Aids.
Another big blot is Zimbabwe. To the disgust of many Zimbabweans, and many more in the African and international communities, he refused to censure the old dictator Robert Mugabe. And while it is possible to justify the concept of quiet diplomacy, it often felt like an excuse and a means of buying time. When he eventually decided that negotiation was necessary, he was able to bend Mugabe's will. There will therefore always be questions about the number of lives and the amount of destruction and suffering that could have been spared had he taken a firmer stance earlier on.
Not only are there now people who blame Mbeki for the unnecessary loss of life due to Aids, there are plenty who blame him for perpetuating the mess in Zimbabwe. But it would be unfair to only remember him for his failings. Much more significant are his successes.
I hold Thabo Mbeki in very high regard. He has contributed an enormous amount to South Africa and to the rest of the continent. He joined the African National Congress at the age of 14 and was imprisoned for terrorism and treason with Nelson Mandela and Walter Sisulu. Thabo Mbeki had to leave South Africa and, while in exile, worked tirelessly for the ANC, raising awareness on the realities of apartheid. He suffered the personal loss of the deaths of his brother and son under dubious circumstances, as well as the pain of separation from his family.
He later played a important role in negotiating the end of apartheid. While there were some bent on continuing armed conflict, Mbeki had the foresight to advocate negotiation with the then enemy at a time when that suggestion was unpalatable. No matter how unpopular it has made him at times, Mbeki has consistently shown a remarkable ability to stand by his convictions.
In 1994, when Mandela became the first president of a free South Africa, he was made joint deputy president and sole deputy president in 1996. While Mandela saw to the reconciliation of the nation, Mbeki was largely responsible for the running of the government - a responsibility he took on in full from 1999 when he assumed office.
According to one of his biographers, Mark Gevisser, Mbeki's favourite poem is A Dream Deferred by Langston Hughes. Hughes explores what may happen if a dream is put off. He wonders if that dream dries up, festers, stinks, crusts, sags or . . . explodes. According to Gevisser, Mbeki was preoccupied with the same question. In 1998, he asked in parliament: "What happens to the dream deferred?"
His greatest worry, it seems, was the impossible expectations of a nation that had finally come out of the yoke of oppression. And if there is an area in which Thabo Mbeki has not received adequate credit, it is the manner in which he, and his government, kept that deferred dream from exploding.
The trade unions and the communist party in South Africa feel Mbeki betrayed them by pursuing an ultra-capitalist approach. That may well be the case, but his business-friendly policies have enabled South Africa to enjoy its longest period of economic growth to date. It is true that the plight of the poor has not adequately changed in the 14 years he has been running the government. But that is not for want of trying. A lot of capacity development and strengthening of the government's ability to effectively deliver social policy has had to occur. I am sure that more could have been done to redress the inequality and imbalances that still exist in South Africa, but one can only ask so much of a leader. And to that end, perhaps it is a good thing that this leader is now stepping aside.
What most impresses me about Mbeki, though, is that he is one of the few African leaders who have attempted to articulate a vision of post-colonial Africa worthy of the continent. Even in his final television address, he reminded us that: "Africa and Africans, will not and must not, be the wretched of the earth, in perpetuity."
Despite his many faults, I think Thabo Mbeki was an exceptional president. I hope he is remembered as such.
24 September, 2008
I FEEL FOR retiring president of South Africa Thabo Mbeki. He is in danger of being remembered for all the wrong reasons. The biggest blot on his career is the stance he took on Aids. Mbeki, for reasons best known to himself, chose to endorse the views of some dissident scientists who claimed the primary cause of the disease was not viral. To make matters worse his government's health policy on Aids was based on that thinking.
South Africa became a laughing stock when senior figures in government suggested multivitamins and beetroot could be used in place of antiretroviral drugs. The worst part of that episode is that Mbeki is not stupid. The world could have handled, and may even have been sympathetic to, genuine ignorance. A stubborn refusal to listen to experts and an insistence on basing one's health policy on one's own research, especially if the individual in question is an economist, is very difficult to forgive. Which is why to this day, any mention of Mbeki will likely lead to a discussion on Aids.
Another big blot is Zimbabwe. To the disgust of many Zimbabweans, and many more in the African and international communities, he refused to censure the old dictator Robert Mugabe. And while it is possible to justify the concept of quiet diplomacy, it often felt like an excuse and a means of buying time. When he eventually decided that negotiation was necessary, he was able to bend Mugabe's will. There will therefore always be questions about the number of lives and the amount of destruction and suffering that could have been spared had he taken a firmer stance earlier on.
Not only are there now people who blame Mbeki for the unnecessary loss of life due to Aids, there are plenty who blame him for perpetuating the mess in Zimbabwe. But it would be unfair to only remember him for his failings. Much more significant are his successes.
I hold Thabo Mbeki in very high regard. He has contributed an enormous amount to South Africa and to the rest of the continent. He joined the African National Congress at the age of 14 and was imprisoned for terrorism and treason with Nelson Mandela and Walter Sisulu. Thabo Mbeki had to leave South Africa and, while in exile, worked tirelessly for the ANC, raising awareness on the realities of apartheid. He suffered the personal loss of the deaths of his brother and son under dubious circumstances, as well as the pain of separation from his family.
He later played a important role in negotiating the end of apartheid. While there were some bent on continuing armed conflict, Mbeki had the foresight to advocate negotiation with the then enemy at a time when that suggestion was unpalatable. No matter how unpopular it has made him at times, Mbeki has consistently shown a remarkable ability to stand by his convictions.
In 1994, when Mandela became the first president of a free South Africa, he was made joint deputy president and sole deputy president in 1996. While Mandela saw to the reconciliation of the nation, Mbeki was largely responsible for the running of the government - a responsibility he took on in full from 1999 when he assumed office.
According to one of his biographers, Mark Gevisser, Mbeki's favourite poem is A Dream Deferred by Langston Hughes. Hughes explores what may happen if a dream is put off. He wonders if that dream dries up, festers, stinks, crusts, sags or . . . explodes. According to Gevisser, Mbeki was preoccupied with the same question. In 1998, he asked in parliament: "What happens to the dream deferred?"
His greatest worry, it seems, was the impossible expectations of a nation that had finally come out of the yoke of oppression. And if there is an area in which Thabo Mbeki has not received adequate credit, it is the manner in which he, and his government, kept that deferred dream from exploding.
The trade unions and the communist party in South Africa feel Mbeki betrayed them by pursuing an ultra-capitalist approach. That may well be the case, but his business-friendly policies have enabled South Africa to enjoy its longest period of economic growth to date. It is true that the plight of the poor has not adequately changed in the 14 years he has been running the government. But that is not for want of trying. A lot of capacity development and strengthening of the government's ability to effectively deliver social policy has had to occur. I am sure that more could have been done to redress the inequality and imbalances that still exist in South Africa, but one can only ask so much of a leader. And to that end, perhaps it is a good thing that this leader is now stepping aside.
What most impresses me about Mbeki, though, is that he is one of the few African leaders who have attempted to articulate a vision of post-colonial Africa worthy of the continent. Even in his final television address, he reminded us that: "Africa and Africans, will not and must not, be the wretched of the earth, in perpetuity."
Despite his many faults, I think Thabo Mbeki was an exceptional president. I hope he is remembered as such.
Zimbabwe deal is cause for cautious optimism
Zimbabwe deal is cause for cautious optimism
17 September, 2008
IT IS difficult to know what to make of the agreement between Zimbabwe's president Robert Mugabe and the opposition leader Morgan Tsvangirai. The deal that the two men have struck is very far from being perfect, but who knows? It may help restore sanity to Zimbabwe's social, economic and political scene.
I had an animated "discussion" not too long ago with a friend (let's call her Nancy) who happens to work in the development sector here in Ireland.
She was unhappy about the fact that most Angolans she had come across while in that country on a work assignment were going to vote for the ruling party out of fear.
Having recently welcomed the end of civil war, most Angolans were understandably fearful of rocking the boat and the consensus was that the best way to maintain peace would be to vote for president José Eduardo dos Santos' MPLA.
There were even rumours that, were the opposition to win, civil war would resume. In the end, MPLA won over 80 per cent of the vote.
Nancy was frustrated by the fact that many, maybe even most Angolans were unable really to exercise their democratic right to vote freely - they were still bound by their violent past.
I like to think of myself as a realist, and realistically speaking, Angola has made incredible progress. That progress is only a start, but an imperfect peace, even when there are formidable challenges ahead, is better than unrest in my opinion.
So while I appreciated Nancy's concerns, I felt she was choosing to see the glass as being half empty when in fact it was, in my opinion, remarkable that there was anything in the glass at all.
It is nothing short of a miracle that Mugabe and Tsvangirai are going to form a government together. This may be the first time in post-colonial Zimbabwe's history that the country will not be squarely in one man's hands.
It is a milestone in the country's political development. Even more important is the hope of an end to politically motivated violence.
Zimbabweans, for the most part, are a peace-loving people. There is now the possibility that the madness of the last decade will come to an end.
Best of all, for the first time in maybe 10 years, the government can direct most of its attention to running and developing the country as opposed to the politics of staying in power at all costs. Zimbabwe is no Angola and has not had to endure the agony of full-blown civil war, but it hasn't been a country at peace either. What having a shot at peace means; the fact that stability and normality are within reach: these things evoke emotions in some of us which are very difficult to encapsulate with words.
And yet, there will be little rejoicing in the coming days. I suspect that there will instead be quite a bit of apprehension and frustration. The frustration is easy to understand. There will be those who have worked very hard to crush the opposition. They will have to sit down and work with their enemies. Not only that, they will probably be looking over their shoulders for some time to come because justice has a way of catching up with wrongdoers, even in places like Zimbabwe.
Members of the opposition party may also be very frustrated. All of them have buried friends or relatives killed by thugs acting on the orders of their new partners in government. Morgan Tsvangirai himself will have to work very closely with people who had his skull fractured and had him tried for treason, a crime which carries the death penalty in that jurisdiction. There will not be much laughter in cabinet once the cameras are turned off.
The same thing will be played out on the streets, in small towns, big cities and the countryside. People are going to have to come to terms with the fact that there was no great overhaul. It was not possible in the end to get rid of a system that was seen by the vast majority as the problem.
Instead, there is going to have to be a superimposing of systems. So, while there will probably be a lot of relief, there will also be some anger. It is a classic case of putting new wine in old wineskins.
As for apprehension, anyone who has a vested interest in Zimbabwe will be holding their breath for while. This agreement is potentially a very good thing, but it is what happens in the months to come that really matters. No one really knows if a "Kenya solution" works in the long term. This could be an important step in Zimbabwe's political maturation, or a temporary distraction. And having watched the country come undone over such a long period of time, it is hard to see things turning around just like that.
But such is the nature of progress and change. Childbirth is a very messy, slow, painful process. We like to sanitise it in our public discourse and in the media, but it is what it is. Maybe that is the nature of all real progress. As slow, painful, frustrating and messy the process of Zimbabwe's democratisation has been, it is important to note that at no other time has the country been as free as it is
today.
That freedom is not nearly complete and there is still much to do. It has come at the expense of the country's productive sector, many innocent lives, and wasted opportunity. But there has been progress. The idea that one man, or one party, has a God given right to dictate to the rest has died.
In spite of all the uncertainties, in spite of the very real chance that the government of national unity will unravel or that Morgan Tsvangirai will prove to be as big a disappointment as some of those who have gone before him, I am cautiously hopeful.
17 September, 2008
IT IS difficult to know what to make of the agreement between Zimbabwe's president Robert Mugabe and the opposition leader Morgan Tsvangirai. The deal that the two men have struck is very far from being perfect, but who knows? It may help restore sanity to Zimbabwe's social, economic and political scene.
I had an animated "discussion" not too long ago with a friend (let's call her Nancy) who happens to work in the development sector here in Ireland.
She was unhappy about the fact that most Angolans she had come across while in that country on a work assignment were going to vote for the ruling party out of fear.
Having recently welcomed the end of civil war, most Angolans were understandably fearful of rocking the boat and the consensus was that the best way to maintain peace would be to vote for president José Eduardo dos Santos' MPLA.
There were even rumours that, were the opposition to win, civil war would resume. In the end, MPLA won over 80 per cent of the vote.
Nancy was frustrated by the fact that many, maybe even most Angolans were unable really to exercise their democratic right to vote freely - they were still bound by their violent past.
I like to think of myself as a realist, and realistically speaking, Angola has made incredible progress. That progress is only a start, but an imperfect peace, even when there are formidable challenges ahead, is better than unrest in my opinion.
So while I appreciated Nancy's concerns, I felt she was choosing to see the glass as being half empty when in fact it was, in my opinion, remarkable that there was anything in the glass at all.
It is nothing short of a miracle that Mugabe and Tsvangirai are going to form a government together. This may be the first time in post-colonial Zimbabwe's history that the country will not be squarely in one man's hands.
It is a milestone in the country's political development. Even more important is the hope of an end to politically motivated violence.
Zimbabweans, for the most part, are a peace-loving people. There is now the possibility that the madness of the last decade will come to an end.
Best of all, for the first time in maybe 10 years, the government can direct most of its attention to running and developing the country as opposed to the politics of staying in power at all costs. Zimbabwe is no Angola and has not had to endure the agony of full-blown civil war, but it hasn't been a country at peace either. What having a shot at peace means; the fact that stability and normality are within reach: these things evoke emotions in some of us which are very difficult to encapsulate with words.
And yet, there will be little rejoicing in the coming days. I suspect that there will instead be quite a bit of apprehension and frustration. The frustration is easy to understand. There will be those who have worked very hard to crush the opposition. They will have to sit down and work with their enemies. Not only that, they will probably be looking over their shoulders for some time to come because justice has a way of catching up with wrongdoers, even in places like Zimbabwe.
Members of the opposition party may also be very frustrated. All of them have buried friends or relatives killed by thugs acting on the orders of their new partners in government. Morgan Tsvangirai himself will have to work very closely with people who had his skull fractured and had him tried for treason, a crime which carries the death penalty in that jurisdiction. There will not be much laughter in cabinet once the cameras are turned off.
The same thing will be played out on the streets, in small towns, big cities and the countryside. People are going to have to come to terms with the fact that there was no great overhaul. It was not possible in the end to get rid of a system that was seen by the vast majority as the problem.
Instead, there is going to have to be a superimposing of systems. So, while there will probably be a lot of relief, there will also be some anger. It is a classic case of putting new wine in old wineskins.
As for apprehension, anyone who has a vested interest in Zimbabwe will be holding their breath for while. This agreement is potentially a very good thing, but it is what happens in the months to come that really matters. No one really knows if a "Kenya solution" works in the long term. This could be an important step in Zimbabwe's political maturation, or a temporary distraction. And having watched the country come undone over such a long period of time, it is hard to see things turning around just like that.
But such is the nature of progress and change. Childbirth is a very messy, slow, painful process. We like to sanitise it in our public discourse and in the media, but it is what it is. Maybe that is the nature of all real progress. As slow, painful, frustrating and messy the process of Zimbabwe's democratisation has been, it is important to note that at no other time has the country been as free as it is
today.
That freedom is not nearly complete and there is still much to do. It has come at the expense of the country's productive sector, many innocent lives, and wasted opportunity. But there has been progress. The idea that one man, or one party, has a God given right to dictate to the rest has died.
In spite of all the uncertainties, in spite of the very real chance that the government of national unity will unravel or that Morgan Tsvangirai will prove to be as big a disappointment as some of those who have gone before him, I am cautiously hopeful.
Obama embodies the future King dreamt about
Obama embodies the future King dreamt about
3 September, 2008
A ARON McGRUDER's The Boondocks is an animated TV series which takes a satirical look at American culture and race relations from the perspective of an African-American family. In a controversial episode titled Return of the King, Martin Luther King Jr does not die after the assassination attempt in Memphis, but falls into a long coma. He then wakes up in modern-day America and is disgusted by what he sees.
Towards the end of the episode Dr King gives an angry speech. He expresses his frustration, anger and disappointment at what America as a whole, and "black America" in particular, have become. An older, disillusioned King asks his audience: "Is this it? This is what I got all those ass-whoopings for? . . . I've seen what's around the corner; I've seen what's over the horizon . . . And no, I won't get there with you. I'm going to Canada!"
I understand the frustration that drove McGruder to create Return of the King. But I listened to, and watched, Barack Obama deliver his acceptance speech on the 45th anniversary of King's I Have A Dream speech.
Many people of different races, gender and age were equally struck by the event. A packed football stadium applauded as, for the first time ever, a black man accepted a major party's nomination as its presidential candidate. I watched Obama captivate the audience with his vision for America. And though I cannot say for certain what the late preacher would have made of it all, I am pretty sure he would have been pleased.
At a time when black people in America were second-class citizens King had the courage to stand with a growing grassroots movement and be its face and its leader. While people like Malcolm X understandably called for the separation of the races and a more aggressive struggle to that end, King had the wisdom and foresight to link black America's future with that of the rest of the country. He saw himself and his flock as Americans first and, as such, heirs to the same American dream that was available to white Americans.
"Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred," he urged 45 years ago. In the same speech, King went on to say: "The marvellous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realise that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realise that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone."
It was fitting that towards the end of his own speech Obama quoted King's. In fact, the ghost of Martin Luther King, and the memory of I Have A Dream, hovered over Obama's address. As he brought the proceedings to a close, he gave life to King's words, even if only fleetingly: "We cannot walk alone," the preacher cried. "And, as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back."
"America, we cannot turn back . . . not with so much work to be done; not with so many children to educate, and so many veterans to care for; not with an economy to fix, and cities to rebuild, and farms to save; not with so many families to protect and so many lives to mend," said the candidate.
Barack Obama is a politician. He is no Martin Luther King Jr, nor is he Marcus Garvey, Moses or the Messiah. He is not some magic cure for all of America's race problems, or even for the ills that plague that country's black community. Be that as it may, he embodies, in part, the future that King dreamt of and shared with the world.
Obama's success shows the kind of progress the United States has made in half a century. There are those who have questioned whether or not he is black enough, while others fear that he is "too black". Some have suggested that he has only achieved his success because of his race, yet others say that he has succeeded in spite of it. None of these things really matter. What ultimately matters is that people have made a little progress and the world today is a little less prejudiced than it was 50 years ago.
Hopefully this progress has not come too late. In the speech he gave on the eve of his assassination, Dr King stated prophetically: "Like anybody, I would like to live a long life . . . But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight that we, as a people, will get to the Promised Land!"
Were he alive today, I think the "Promised Land" King would have in mind would be something even more significant than having a black president. I cannot see the man who confronted the president who signed the Civil Rights Bill over his invasion of Vietnam, or the black leader who spoke out against the plight of poor white people - I cannot see him stopping there. He would probably demand even more. Were McGruder's fantasy real, were King to come out of a coma today, I doubt he would move to Canada, but he would probably still urge us all to work towards the real challenges of our time - persistent inequality, poverty, climate change, arrogance and greed. In short, the same hardness of heart that he confronted a generation ago.
"We cannot turn back," he might plead. "Not with so much work to be done."
3 September, 2008
A ARON McGRUDER's The Boondocks is an animated TV series which takes a satirical look at American culture and race relations from the perspective of an African-American family. In a controversial episode titled Return of the King, Martin Luther King Jr does not die after the assassination attempt in Memphis, but falls into a long coma. He then wakes up in modern-day America and is disgusted by what he sees.
Towards the end of the episode Dr King gives an angry speech. He expresses his frustration, anger and disappointment at what America as a whole, and "black America" in particular, have become. An older, disillusioned King asks his audience: "Is this it? This is what I got all those ass-whoopings for? . . . I've seen what's around the corner; I've seen what's over the horizon . . . And no, I won't get there with you. I'm going to Canada!"
I understand the frustration that drove McGruder to create Return of the King. But I listened to, and watched, Barack Obama deliver his acceptance speech on the 45th anniversary of King's I Have A Dream speech.
Many people of different races, gender and age were equally struck by the event. A packed football stadium applauded as, for the first time ever, a black man accepted a major party's nomination as its presidential candidate. I watched Obama captivate the audience with his vision for America. And though I cannot say for certain what the late preacher would have made of it all, I am pretty sure he would have been pleased.
At a time when black people in America were second-class citizens King had the courage to stand with a growing grassroots movement and be its face and its leader. While people like Malcolm X understandably called for the separation of the races and a more aggressive struggle to that end, King had the wisdom and foresight to link black America's future with that of the rest of the country. He saw himself and his flock as Americans first and, as such, heirs to the same American dream that was available to white Americans.
"Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred," he urged 45 years ago. In the same speech, King went on to say: "The marvellous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realise that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realise that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone."
It was fitting that towards the end of his own speech Obama quoted King's. In fact, the ghost of Martin Luther King, and the memory of I Have A Dream, hovered over Obama's address. As he brought the proceedings to a close, he gave life to King's words, even if only fleetingly: "We cannot walk alone," the preacher cried. "And, as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back."
"America, we cannot turn back . . . not with so much work to be done; not with so many children to educate, and so many veterans to care for; not with an economy to fix, and cities to rebuild, and farms to save; not with so many families to protect and so many lives to mend," said the candidate.
Barack Obama is a politician. He is no Martin Luther King Jr, nor is he Marcus Garvey, Moses or the Messiah. He is not some magic cure for all of America's race problems, or even for the ills that plague that country's black community. Be that as it may, he embodies, in part, the future that King dreamt of and shared with the world.
Obama's success shows the kind of progress the United States has made in half a century. There are those who have questioned whether or not he is black enough, while others fear that he is "too black". Some have suggested that he has only achieved his success because of his race, yet others say that he has succeeded in spite of it. None of these things really matter. What ultimately matters is that people have made a little progress and the world today is a little less prejudiced than it was 50 years ago.
Hopefully this progress has not come too late. In the speech he gave on the eve of his assassination, Dr King stated prophetically: "Like anybody, I would like to live a long life . . . But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight that we, as a people, will get to the Promised Land!"
Were he alive today, I think the "Promised Land" King would have in mind would be something even more significant than having a black president. I cannot see the man who confronted the president who signed the Civil Rights Bill over his invasion of Vietnam, or the black leader who spoke out against the plight of poor white people - I cannot see him stopping there. He would probably demand even more. Were McGruder's fantasy real, were King to come out of a coma today, I doubt he would move to Canada, but he would probably still urge us all to work towards the real challenges of our time - persistent inequality, poverty, climate change, arrogance and greed. In short, the same hardness of heart that he confronted a generation ago.
"We cannot turn back," he might plead. "Not with so much work to be done."
Africa's greatest asset is not oil or minerals but people
Africa's greatest asset is not oil or minerals but people
20 August, 2008
Those words were written by John Russwurm in the first edition of Freedom's Journal in 1837. Freedom's Journal was the first newspaper published in America that was written and operated by black people. Russwurm's words could be mine, as well as many Africans today.
Like Russwurm, I feel the world tends to look at my people through a broken lens. I feel as though our faults are magnified and our condition over-simplified. I feel that there are many who claim to speak for us yet see us as something slightly less than human - less, at any rate, than our European, American or Asian brothers and sisters.
I have been asked why, given all the resources poured into Africa by donor agencies and governments, Africa has not made more progress. Concerns have also been raised about population growth in places like Ethiopia.
The short answer is that Africa has, and continues to make, remarkable progress. That said, there are still some serious challenges on the continent. Where people are vulnerable, they tend to have more, rather than less, children. Where infant and child mortality is high, families will try and have more children to make sure some survive to adulthood. They depend on their children to help work their land, source food or take care of them when they get older and are no longer able to look after themselves. It is human nature.
And yes, Somalia is still Somalia. Yes, the Niger delta is unstable. And there is also Sudan, the Congo and Zimbabwe. As a continent, we have a tragic track record of human rights abuses - then there is corruption and the mismanagement of resources. Progress is being made all the same, though.
Once, the idea of the one-party state was acceptable, but now most African countries have accepted the concept of democracy in principal, if not always in practice. While sometimes it feels like sub-Saharan Africa takes two steps forward then one step back, at least the overall movement is in a positive direction.
The continent as a whole is slowly coming to terms with the standards and norms of the world. This is happening not in isolation, but while trying to negotiate through murky, sometimes treacherous, global waters.
There is so much external interference in Africa's affairs that China and the West are at loggerheads over who gets to pimp the continent. If, in spite of all of that, some are still concerned at the ecological destruction that results from the number of children Ethiopian women choose to bear, our apologies. Feel free to have nothing to do with all things African. The greatest danger to development is the desire to see a "return" on one's "investment". Giving money for development work is not the same as investing in a start up company, it is not even similar to investing in a social enterprise. Both come with the expectation of financial reward. The desire for quick fixes and instant results is what leads to an over investment in projects like food handouts over those that help people achieve food independence. It is the latter rather than the former which should be promoted, even though it is less measurable.
The second greatest danger to development comes from not realising the worth of the people who are being helped. Africa's greatest asset is not her oil or mineral wealth, but her people. The rate of development and growth there will be determined by how many Africans are empowered to contribute to their countries.
I wholeheartedly believe in seeking African solutions to Africa's problems. That will only truly happen when Africa's rural majority has the kind of access to information and resources as other people groups.
The main aim of all those interested in that continent should be rural development. Food independence and basic skills provision are a great start, but to date some have seen them as an end. There needs to be intense investment in communication infrastructure.
The rural masses need access to the outside world. Phone lines, access to international television and the internet will change local aspirations. There is something about knowing how other people live that produces discontentment with a sub-standard way of life. That discontentment will bring about more positive changes in local and national government than all the conditional aid in the world. If Africa is going dramatically to develop, it needs more world-class universities. India's plethora of universities has done wonders for the Indians. Africa needs many engineers, teachers, lawyers, scientists and medical personnel. We also need many politicians, philosophers and lawyers to form systems of governance that will work in our context.
America's democracy is different to Europe's and Japan's. Perhaps it is time Africans came up with their own form of governance - and while some of our professionals might emigrate, the migration of Indian professionals has helped the sub-continent in the long run.
The average African man or woman needs to be seen as being no different to the average European, apart from their different circumstances. If that happens, the natural response will be to pour as much as possible into changing those circumstances and that can happen without a cent going to an African government official if so required. It can also come to be without a cent from a single Western aid agency. It has been said though that many hands make light work.
Africa will come right eventually. It is just a question of time.
20 August, 2008
WE WISH to plead our own cause. Too long have others spoken for us . . . our vices and our degradation are ever arrayed against us, but our virtues are passed unnoticed.
Those words were written by John Russwurm in the first edition of Freedom's Journal in 1837. Freedom's Journal was the first newspaper published in America that was written and operated by black people. Russwurm's words could be mine, as well as many Africans today.
Like Russwurm, I feel the world tends to look at my people through a broken lens. I feel as though our faults are magnified and our condition over-simplified. I feel that there are many who claim to speak for us yet see us as something slightly less than human - less, at any rate, than our European, American or Asian brothers and sisters.
I have been asked why, given all the resources poured into Africa by donor agencies and governments, Africa has not made more progress. Concerns have also been raised about population growth in places like Ethiopia.
The short answer is that Africa has, and continues to make, remarkable progress. That said, there are still some serious challenges on the continent. Where people are vulnerable, they tend to have more, rather than less, children. Where infant and child mortality is high, families will try and have more children to make sure some survive to adulthood. They depend on their children to help work their land, source food or take care of them when they get older and are no longer able to look after themselves. It is human nature.
And yes, Somalia is still Somalia. Yes, the Niger delta is unstable. And there is also Sudan, the Congo and Zimbabwe. As a continent, we have a tragic track record of human rights abuses - then there is corruption and the mismanagement of resources. Progress is being made all the same, though.
Once, the idea of the one-party state was acceptable, but now most African countries have accepted the concept of democracy in principal, if not always in practice. While sometimes it feels like sub-Saharan Africa takes two steps forward then one step back, at least the overall movement is in a positive direction.
The continent as a whole is slowly coming to terms with the standards and norms of the world. This is happening not in isolation, but while trying to negotiate through murky, sometimes treacherous, global waters.
There is so much external interference in Africa's affairs that China and the West are at loggerheads over who gets to pimp the continent. If, in spite of all of that, some are still concerned at the ecological destruction that results from the number of children Ethiopian women choose to bear, our apologies. Feel free to have nothing to do with all things African. The greatest danger to development is the desire to see a "return" on one's "investment". Giving money for development work is not the same as investing in a start up company, it is not even similar to investing in a social enterprise. Both come with the expectation of financial reward. The desire for quick fixes and instant results is what leads to an over investment in projects like food handouts over those that help people achieve food independence. It is the latter rather than the former which should be promoted, even though it is less measurable.
The second greatest danger to development comes from not realising the worth of the people who are being helped. Africa's greatest asset is not her oil or mineral wealth, but her people. The rate of development and growth there will be determined by how many Africans are empowered to contribute to their countries.
I wholeheartedly believe in seeking African solutions to Africa's problems. That will only truly happen when Africa's rural majority has the kind of access to information and resources as other people groups.
The main aim of all those interested in that continent should be rural development. Food independence and basic skills provision are a great start, but to date some have seen them as an end. There needs to be intense investment in communication infrastructure.
The rural masses need access to the outside world. Phone lines, access to international television and the internet will change local aspirations. There is something about knowing how other people live that produces discontentment with a sub-standard way of life. That discontentment will bring about more positive changes in local and national government than all the conditional aid in the world. If Africa is going dramatically to develop, it needs more world-class universities. India's plethora of universities has done wonders for the Indians. Africa needs many engineers, teachers, lawyers, scientists and medical personnel. We also need many politicians, philosophers and lawyers to form systems of governance that will work in our context.
America's democracy is different to Europe's and Japan's. Perhaps it is time Africans came up with their own form of governance - and while some of our professionals might emigrate, the migration of Indian professionals has helped the sub-continent in the long run.
The average African man or woman needs to be seen as being no different to the average European, apart from their different circumstances. If that happens, the natural response will be to pour as much as possible into changing those circumstances and that can happen without a cent going to an African government official if so required. It can also come to be without a cent from a single Western aid agency. It has been said though that many hands make light work.
Africa will come right eventually. It is just a question of time.
Intolerant words starve Africans of the chance they deserve
Intolerant words starve Africans of the chance they deserve
16 July, 2008
'BRYAN, YOU'RE a good black. The people who work on our farm are bad blacks." With that, Richard had summarised his view of the world. He was not apologetic or hesitant. No, as far as he was concerned, it was just a matter of fact, and he had nothing to be ashamed of.
Richard and I lived in the same dormitory at our high school. He was a white Zimbabwean, the son of wealthy farmers.
Outside school, the only black people he encountered were the poor labourers who worked for his family. He somehow found it possible to hold on to the worst racial stereotypes in relation to his parents' employees, but alter his views when it came to his schoolmates.
It has been a long time since he shocked me with his "good black, bad black" statement. The only other person who has been able to evoke the same reaction in me was Kevin Myers last week.
On July 10th, the Irish Independent carried Myers' opinion piece, headlined "Africa is giving nothing to anyone - apart from Aids".
A friend phoned to let me know about the article. I thought it was a joke until I saw it with my own eyes. It was such a surreal experience I had to read it a couple of times. Because it takes me quite a while to interpret my emotions, I was numb for an hour or so. Then I became confused. It was only much later that I realised I was also angry and highly offended.
The confusion stemmed from the content of the article. To summarise, Myers' opinion, as I understand it, is that aid to Africa is a bad idea. It prevents Africans from dying. This is a bad thing because, should said Africans survive to adulthood, they will become murderous, AK47-wielding sex machines. The sex machines will spread all manner of disease, not least of which is Aids. Worse still, some of those who do survive to adulthood may make it to Europe.
Thus, to prevent these catastrophic consequences - eventual death only after having spawned more little menaces, or migration to Europe - it is better for all concerned if they die young . . . of starvation.
Even now, I am at a loss. I do not know which is more shocking. On the one hand, there is Richard's idea that, because I have the opportunity to go to a fancy school (as a result of a bursary), I am a tolerable kind of black person. And then there is Myers' thesis: Africans should not be tolerated. No, they should be allowed to starve to death because their only contribution is to virology (the study of viruses such as HIV/Aids).
I will say this for Ireland: it is an incredibly tolerant country. There was no real outrage as a result of the "let them starve" article (although I note that yesterday the Immigrant Council of Ireland has referred the article to the Garda because, it maintains, it amounts to incitement to hatred). But, otherwise, only a handful of people voiced their complaints.
It was mentioned on a few radio programmes but, for the most part, people seemed to take it in their stride. Some even called for dialogue on the merits of the article. Life moved on. And my anger turned into sadness. I was saddened by the fact that there were people who thought there was some merit in what seemed to me a horribly ugly work.
Essentially, Myers suffers from the same blindness that afflicted Richard. Richard looked at people, some of whom could easily have been my relatives, and saw something different to me. But the difference he saw did not really exist. What separated us was the fact that my parents got a few more opportunities than others and passed some of those on to me. But I could easily have been destined to the life of a peasant farmer or labourer, as were some of my close relatives.
There was never a "good black" or a "bad black". What he was looking at was the same person under different circumstances. And Richard's assumption that "bad blacks" are thieves, rapists, lazy and incapable of intelligent thought was a figment of an ugly collective imagination. The grown men he treated like children on the basis of their social rank were no worse than my father.
Myers' characterisation of Ethiopians, Somalis and Zimbabweans is just as ugly. Where he sees "violent, Kalashnikov-toting, khat-chewing, girl-circumcising, permanently tumescent layabouts", I see myself.
I had the privilege of growing up in a relatively peaceful environment. I grew up in a relatively stable home for the bulk of my childhood. I went to some of the best schools in the country. Had those things not happened, had I grown up in a war zone, I would be one of those "layabouts". Had even he been born into those circumstances, I imagine his views would be a little different.
Everyone is entitled to their opinion on aid and development. If Myers wants to have a serious discussion on that, I will happily oblige. But whether or not you intend to give your money to charities working in Africa, there is no reason for ugliness. There is no justification for writing about people who live in some of the most difficult conditions on this planet with such malice; none whatsoever.
Personally, I would like to see the so-called "layabouts" given a chance. I would like them to have the same access to education that I had and to enjoy as safe and secure a childhood as I enjoyed. And if enough is invested in people living in challenging places like Somalia or Sudan, in time that investment should pay off. At some stage, it will hopefully be those same people who rebuild their countries and find lasting solutions to some of their conflicts. Rather than throwing a tantrum, Myers could have helped by suggesting ways to bring about those changes.
"Let them die out" is no more a solution than "let them eat cake".
16 July, 2008
'BRYAN, YOU'RE a good black. The people who work on our farm are bad blacks." With that, Richard had summarised his view of the world. He was not apologetic or hesitant. No, as far as he was concerned, it was just a matter of fact, and he had nothing to be ashamed of.
Richard and I lived in the same dormitory at our high school. He was a white Zimbabwean, the son of wealthy farmers.
Outside school, the only black people he encountered were the poor labourers who worked for his family. He somehow found it possible to hold on to the worst racial stereotypes in relation to his parents' employees, but alter his views when it came to his schoolmates.
It has been a long time since he shocked me with his "good black, bad black" statement. The only other person who has been able to evoke the same reaction in me was Kevin Myers last week.
On July 10th, the Irish Independent carried Myers' opinion piece, headlined "Africa is giving nothing to anyone - apart from Aids".
A friend phoned to let me know about the article. I thought it was a joke until I saw it with my own eyes. It was such a surreal experience I had to read it a couple of times. Because it takes me quite a while to interpret my emotions, I was numb for an hour or so. Then I became confused. It was only much later that I realised I was also angry and highly offended.
The confusion stemmed from the content of the article. To summarise, Myers' opinion, as I understand it, is that aid to Africa is a bad idea. It prevents Africans from dying. This is a bad thing because, should said Africans survive to adulthood, they will become murderous, AK47-wielding sex machines. The sex machines will spread all manner of disease, not least of which is Aids. Worse still, some of those who do survive to adulthood may make it to Europe.
Thus, to prevent these catastrophic consequences - eventual death only after having spawned more little menaces, or migration to Europe - it is better for all concerned if they die young . . . of starvation.
Even now, I am at a loss. I do not know which is more shocking. On the one hand, there is Richard's idea that, because I have the opportunity to go to a fancy school (as a result of a bursary), I am a tolerable kind of black person. And then there is Myers' thesis: Africans should not be tolerated. No, they should be allowed to starve to death because their only contribution is to virology (the study of viruses such as HIV/Aids).
I will say this for Ireland: it is an incredibly tolerant country. There was no real outrage as a result of the "let them starve" article (although I note that yesterday the Immigrant Council of Ireland has referred the article to the Garda because, it maintains, it amounts to incitement to hatred). But, otherwise, only a handful of people voiced their complaints.
It was mentioned on a few radio programmes but, for the most part, people seemed to take it in their stride. Some even called for dialogue on the merits of the article. Life moved on. And my anger turned into sadness. I was saddened by the fact that there were people who thought there was some merit in what seemed to me a horribly ugly work.
Essentially, Myers suffers from the same blindness that afflicted Richard. Richard looked at people, some of whom could easily have been my relatives, and saw something different to me. But the difference he saw did not really exist. What separated us was the fact that my parents got a few more opportunities than others and passed some of those on to me. But I could easily have been destined to the life of a peasant farmer or labourer, as were some of my close relatives.
There was never a "good black" or a "bad black". What he was looking at was the same person under different circumstances. And Richard's assumption that "bad blacks" are thieves, rapists, lazy and incapable of intelligent thought was a figment of an ugly collective imagination. The grown men he treated like children on the basis of their social rank were no worse than my father.
Myers' characterisation of Ethiopians, Somalis and Zimbabweans is just as ugly. Where he sees "violent, Kalashnikov-toting, khat-chewing, girl-circumcising, permanently tumescent layabouts", I see myself.
I had the privilege of growing up in a relatively peaceful environment. I grew up in a relatively stable home for the bulk of my childhood. I went to some of the best schools in the country. Had those things not happened, had I grown up in a war zone, I would be one of those "layabouts". Had even he been born into those circumstances, I imagine his views would be a little different.
Everyone is entitled to their opinion on aid and development. If Myers wants to have a serious discussion on that, I will happily oblige. But whether or not you intend to give your money to charities working in Africa, there is no reason for ugliness. There is no justification for writing about people who live in some of the most difficult conditions on this planet with such malice; none whatsoever.
Personally, I would like to see the so-called "layabouts" given a chance. I would like them to have the same access to education that I had and to enjoy as safe and secure a childhood as I enjoyed. And if enough is invested in people living in challenging places like Somalia or Sudan, in time that investment should pay off. At some stage, it will hopefully be those same people who rebuild their countries and find lasting solutions to some of their conflicts. Rather than throwing a tantrum, Myers could have helped by suggesting ways to bring about those changes.
"Let them die out" is no more a solution than "let them eat cake".
My prayer is to rid Zimbabwe of Robert Mugabe's brutal regime
My prayer is to rid Zimbabwe of Robert Mugabe's brutal regime
24 June, 2008
WERE CURRENT events in Zimbabwe not so tragic, they would be comical. An octogenarian who helped liberate a country from colonial rule recently stated that "only God" could remove him from office.
According to Robert Mugabe: "We will never allow an event like an election to reverse our independence, our sovereignty." And in case there was any danger of misinterpreting him, he added: "Only God who appointed me will remove me - not the [opposition] Movement for Democratic Change, not the British."
According to the MDC, around 70 of its members have been killed in the build-up to Friday's run-off presidential election. Activists have been tortured, burnt to death and beaten mercilessly.
Why? To keep a political establishment in power against the will of the people; because in too many places, might is still right; because all of us, the whole world, for whatever reason, find the death of an African that much more tolerable than that of an American or European.
I only left Zimbabwe a couple of years ago. I was there when the violence was arguably more intense and the government's agents and militia more brazen. That 70 people have died didn't really move me.
As a doctor working in internal medicine, our team could easily sign the same number of death certificates in a month. Poverty, starvation and disease can be just as brutal as a beating at the hands of militia drunk on violence and power.
People have been dying unnecessarily in Zimbabwe for a long time now and I suspect that 70 more do not unfortunately make that big a dent in the final total.
It was a while before I realised there was something wrong with my lack of feeling. I, like so many of us, have been conditioned to accept African suffering as the norm. One conflict after the other reinforces the idea that Africa is somehow different.
Some of our leaders discount the examples of stable western societies as something alien. They are seen as a destination over the horizon, pie in the sky, rather than a standard to be emulated now.
Zimbabwe, and the reaction to this episode epitomises all that is wrong with the continent. On the one hand, Mugabe speaks for many when he criticises the West for their condescension and interference in African affairs. He then goes on to make the strongest possible argument for external intervention by his actions.
The African Union (AU) tries to portray itself as a solid, functioning, self governing body but appears incapable of mounting a credible response to all but the most minor difficulties within its jurisdiction. The group's impotence is embarrassing. The lost opportunities are tragic.
In fairness, African leaders have begun to distance themselves from Mugabe and condemn his actions. But the phrase "too little, too late" comes to mind.
The dignity and respect that the continent seeks from the world must not come at the cost of the lives of her most vulnerable citizens. It is not shameful to ask for help. Covering up misrule and injustice out of fear of criticism and embarrassment on the other hand is despicable. There comes a time when the truth most be spoken, no matter how uncomfortable.
Robert Mugabe's past cannot be used to condone his present behaviour. There must be no solidarity with mad men. What is the point of having bodies like the AU or the Southern African Development Community (SADC) if it is left to the international community to highlight and work towards the resolution of crises like Darfur, Kenya and Zimbabwe?
When all is said and done however, it is Zimbabweans who need to find a solution to this crisis. We have watched our country go down the drain slowly but surely since soon after its inception. The very real threat of violence has meant that people have either voted with their feet, tried to pretend that things were fine, or colluded with the regime.
Only a small minority have had the courage to directly confront Mugabe and many of them have paid with their lives.
Things have deteriorated to the point where MDC leader and presidential candidate Morgan Tsvangirai has decided to pull out of the election run-off between himself and Mugabe. The opposition has decided that they will not legitimise a process that is being manipulated by the ruling party.
The question on most Zimbabweans' mind is, "now what?"
I am fearful about what the future holds for Zimbabwe. There are no quick fix solutions. I am fearful about the consequences of this election not going ahead.
What does the future hold for my country and how will the ruling party react? If not through the ballot box, how will people express their frustration? Worst of all, does this send the message that violence works?
Even when eventually there is a change of government, it will be a while before Zimbabwe finally gets back to where it was in the late 1990s.
The worst thing that those in power have done is to create a dangerous mindset and legacy of fear, entitlement, force and violence. It will take much more to overcome these than it will to resurrect the economy.
In the words of Alan Paton in his wonderful novel Cry, the Beloved Country: "Cry, the beloved country, for the unborn child that is the inheritor of our fear. Let him not love the earth too deeply. Let him not laugh too gladly when the water runs through his fingers, nor stand too silent when the setting sun makes red the veld with fire. Let him not be too moved when the birds of his land are singing, nor give too much of his heart to a mountain or a valley. For fear will rob him of all if he gives too much."
I blame those running Zimbabwe for the deaths and displacement of millions. I blame them for the ruined inheritance of millions of unborn children. I blame them for giving in to mankind's worst instincts and abusing their power.
And I pray that the country is rid of them sooner rather than later.
24 June, 2008
WERE CURRENT events in Zimbabwe not so tragic, they would be comical. An octogenarian who helped liberate a country from colonial rule recently stated that "only God" could remove him from office.
According to Robert Mugabe: "We will never allow an event like an election to reverse our independence, our sovereignty." And in case there was any danger of misinterpreting him, he added: "Only God who appointed me will remove me - not the [opposition] Movement for Democratic Change, not the British."
According to the MDC, around 70 of its members have been killed in the build-up to Friday's run-off presidential election. Activists have been tortured, burnt to death and beaten mercilessly.
Why? To keep a political establishment in power against the will of the people; because in too many places, might is still right; because all of us, the whole world, for whatever reason, find the death of an African that much more tolerable than that of an American or European.
I only left Zimbabwe a couple of years ago. I was there when the violence was arguably more intense and the government's agents and militia more brazen. That 70 people have died didn't really move me.
As a doctor working in internal medicine, our team could easily sign the same number of death certificates in a month. Poverty, starvation and disease can be just as brutal as a beating at the hands of militia drunk on violence and power.
People have been dying unnecessarily in Zimbabwe for a long time now and I suspect that 70 more do not unfortunately make that big a dent in the final total.
It was a while before I realised there was something wrong with my lack of feeling. I, like so many of us, have been conditioned to accept African suffering as the norm. One conflict after the other reinforces the idea that Africa is somehow different.
Some of our leaders discount the examples of stable western societies as something alien. They are seen as a destination over the horizon, pie in the sky, rather than a standard to be emulated now.
Zimbabwe, and the reaction to this episode epitomises all that is wrong with the continent. On the one hand, Mugabe speaks for many when he criticises the West for their condescension and interference in African affairs. He then goes on to make the strongest possible argument for external intervention by his actions.
The African Union (AU) tries to portray itself as a solid, functioning, self governing body but appears incapable of mounting a credible response to all but the most minor difficulties within its jurisdiction. The group's impotence is embarrassing. The lost opportunities are tragic.
In fairness, African leaders have begun to distance themselves from Mugabe and condemn his actions. But the phrase "too little, too late" comes to mind.
The dignity and respect that the continent seeks from the world must not come at the cost of the lives of her most vulnerable citizens. It is not shameful to ask for help. Covering up misrule and injustice out of fear of criticism and embarrassment on the other hand is despicable. There comes a time when the truth most be spoken, no matter how uncomfortable.
Robert Mugabe's past cannot be used to condone his present behaviour. There must be no solidarity with mad men. What is the point of having bodies like the AU or the Southern African Development Community (SADC) if it is left to the international community to highlight and work towards the resolution of crises like Darfur, Kenya and Zimbabwe?
When all is said and done however, it is Zimbabweans who need to find a solution to this crisis. We have watched our country go down the drain slowly but surely since soon after its inception. The very real threat of violence has meant that people have either voted with their feet, tried to pretend that things were fine, or colluded with the regime.
Only a small minority have had the courage to directly confront Mugabe and many of them have paid with their lives.
Things have deteriorated to the point where MDC leader and presidential candidate Morgan Tsvangirai has decided to pull out of the election run-off between himself and Mugabe. The opposition has decided that they will not legitimise a process that is being manipulated by the ruling party.
The question on most Zimbabweans' mind is, "now what?"
I am fearful about what the future holds for Zimbabwe. There are no quick fix solutions. I am fearful about the consequences of this election not going ahead.
What does the future hold for my country and how will the ruling party react? If not through the ballot box, how will people express their frustration? Worst of all, does this send the message that violence works?
Even when eventually there is a change of government, it will be a while before Zimbabwe finally gets back to where it was in the late 1990s.
The worst thing that those in power have done is to create a dangerous mindset and legacy of fear, entitlement, force and violence. It will take much more to overcome these than it will to resurrect the economy.
In the words of Alan Paton in his wonderful novel Cry, the Beloved Country: "Cry, the beloved country, for the unborn child that is the inheritor of our fear. Let him not love the earth too deeply. Let him not laugh too gladly when the water runs through his fingers, nor stand too silent when the setting sun makes red the veld with fire. Let him not be too moved when the birds of his land are singing, nor give too much of his heart to a mountain or a valley. For fear will rob him of all if he gives too much."
I blame those running Zimbabwe for the deaths and displacement of millions. I blame them for the ruined inheritance of millions of unborn children. I blame them for giving in to mankind's worst instincts and abusing their power.
And I pray that the country is rid of them sooner rather than later.
Africans take hope from Obama's breakthrough
Africans take hope from Obama's breakthrough
6 June, 2008
I HAVE BEEN watching the United States Democratic Party presidential campaign closely since Barack Obama announced his candidacy last year. It was not too long ago that I resigned myself to Hillary Clinton's inevitable nomination. But somewhere along the way, things changed. Obama took the lead. And now, he is his party's presumptive nominee for the presidency of the Unites States.
Not bad for a black man named Barack Hussein Obama. His victory is nothing short of historic. I remember listening to George Hook on his radio show last February and hearing him say words to the effect of ". . . but is America ready to elect a black man as president?" Hard as he tried, he did not seem to be able to conjure the picture in his mind. He was not alone. At the time, Clinton had more support in the African-American community than Obama. Part of the reason was that a lot of black people did not think he had a real chance of winning his party's nomination, let alone the presidency.
That background just makes Obama's victory even sweeter. I can only imagine the jubilation, especially among black people in America. It is easy to understand why his victory means so much to them. It also means a lot to black Africans - people like me.
The first real time I got to interact with white people was at my junior school. We lived in a predominantly black neighbourhood. Zimbabwe in the 1980s had a weird form of de facto segregation. People of different races generally did not interact unless it was absolutely unavoidable. I got to go to a school in which only three of the 25 pupils in a class were black. I was a minority at school in a country in which over 95 per cent of the country looked like me.
Over my school career, I was taught to lay down my culture in favour of a supposedly superior one. I was taught that the language we spoke at home was irrelevant and that I had to master English. I was corrected when I pronounced words with a Shona (my native language) accent. At home we ate with our hands while at school that was a punishable offence.
I started seeing "European" culture as something to be aspired to and mine as something to distance oneself from. And these ideas were reinforced every time I turned on the TV. From what I could tell, the people who were best at just about everything did not look or sound like I did. By the time I was ready to start high school, I was, at some level, of the opinion that the ideal, the goal, was "whiteness".
Fortunately, that idea was always challenged. For one thing, my father is a strong, proud man. Like most children, I wanted to be like my dad. So much so, I almost wanted to be him. He was always very comfortable in his skin.
And there were people like John Barnes, Ian Wright and Paul Ince who were skilled, black football players. We watched a lot of English football growing up and it was predominantly white in the late 80s. When black footballers started to come up and do well, that challenged the idea of black inferiority. No matter how small, I personally needed, and maybe even clung on to, any example of black people doing well. I needed to see those examples to validate me and to give me a sense of hope for my own destiny.
I do not think it was just me. At the next football world cup, watch the Africans. It is one of the few times we do not mind being thought of as all being from one country. Everyone rallies behind the African teams and prays that we win the tournament. I think it is because we are hungry for proof that we are as good as anyone else. Whatever small victories we can claim as a race serve as both evidence of our worth, as well as a sign of better days to come.
What Obama has done is more important for people of African descent, and others I am sure, than some may realise. He has implicitly said that barriers that may have existed are either gone or can be overcome. He has cast aside the idea that you need to look a certain way to get to the very top. So much so, I suspect that his nomination will have the same effect as Roger Bannister's four-minute mile in 1954. Prior to this, it was believed that a mile could not be run by a person in under four minutes. Now, running a mile in under four minutes is what is expected of a professional middle-distance athlete.
Giving the keynote address at the Democratic National Convention in 2004, Obama called on those at the convention to embrace a politics of hope. He invoked the hope of slaves singing freedom songs; the hope of immigrants setting off for distant shores; hope of a naval officer patrolling the Mekong Delta; the hope of a millworker's son who dares to defy the odds. Most powerfully, Obama, speaking about himself, invoked "the hope of a skinny kid with a funny name who believes that America has a place for him, too".
If America can make space for a man called Barack Hussein Obama, whose father was a Kenyan . . . if he can become the president . . . well, that hopefully means the world can make space for me and people like me somewhere other than on the bottom rungs of society. And if 40 years after the assassination of Dr Martin Luther King jnr, America has a very real chance of electing a black man as its president . . . who knows? Africa could well yet have a very bright future.
6 June, 2008
I HAVE BEEN watching the United States Democratic Party presidential campaign closely since Barack Obama announced his candidacy last year. It was not too long ago that I resigned myself to Hillary Clinton's inevitable nomination. But somewhere along the way, things changed. Obama took the lead. And now, he is his party's presumptive nominee for the presidency of the Unites States.
Not bad for a black man named Barack Hussein Obama. His victory is nothing short of historic. I remember listening to George Hook on his radio show last February and hearing him say words to the effect of ". . . but is America ready to elect a black man as president?" Hard as he tried, he did not seem to be able to conjure the picture in his mind. He was not alone. At the time, Clinton had more support in the African-American community than Obama. Part of the reason was that a lot of black people did not think he had a real chance of winning his party's nomination, let alone the presidency.
That background just makes Obama's victory even sweeter. I can only imagine the jubilation, especially among black people in America. It is easy to understand why his victory means so much to them. It also means a lot to black Africans - people like me.
The first real time I got to interact with white people was at my junior school. We lived in a predominantly black neighbourhood. Zimbabwe in the 1980s had a weird form of de facto segregation. People of different races generally did not interact unless it was absolutely unavoidable. I got to go to a school in which only three of the 25 pupils in a class were black. I was a minority at school in a country in which over 95 per cent of the country looked like me.
Over my school career, I was taught to lay down my culture in favour of a supposedly superior one. I was taught that the language we spoke at home was irrelevant and that I had to master English. I was corrected when I pronounced words with a Shona (my native language) accent. At home we ate with our hands while at school that was a punishable offence.
I started seeing "European" culture as something to be aspired to and mine as something to distance oneself from. And these ideas were reinforced every time I turned on the TV. From what I could tell, the people who were best at just about everything did not look or sound like I did. By the time I was ready to start high school, I was, at some level, of the opinion that the ideal, the goal, was "whiteness".
Fortunately, that idea was always challenged. For one thing, my father is a strong, proud man. Like most children, I wanted to be like my dad. So much so, I almost wanted to be him. He was always very comfortable in his skin.
And there were people like John Barnes, Ian Wright and Paul Ince who were skilled, black football players. We watched a lot of English football growing up and it was predominantly white in the late 80s. When black footballers started to come up and do well, that challenged the idea of black inferiority. No matter how small, I personally needed, and maybe even clung on to, any example of black people doing well. I needed to see those examples to validate me and to give me a sense of hope for my own destiny.
I do not think it was just me. At the next football world cup, watch the Africans. It is one of the few times we do not mind being thought of as all being from one country. Everyone rallies behind the African teams and prays that we win the tournament. I think it is because we are hungry for proof that we are as good as anyone else. Whatever small victories we can claim as a race serve as both evidence of our worth, as well as a sign of better days to come.
What Obama has done is more important for people of African descent, and others I am sure, than some may realise. He has implicitly said that barriers that may have existed are either gone or can be overcome. He has cast aside the idea that you need to look a certain way to get to the very top. So much so, I suspect that his nomination will have the same effect as Roger Bannister's four-minute mile in 1954. Prior to this, it was believed that a mile could not be run by a person in under four minutes. Now, running a mile in under four minutes is what is expected of a professional middle-distance athlete.
Giving the keynote address at the Democratic National Convention in 2004, Obama called on those at the convention to embrace a politics of hope. He invoked the hope of slaves singing freedom songs; the hope of immigrants setting off for distant shores; hope of a naval officer patrolling the Mekong Delta; the hope of a millworker's son who dares to defy the odds. Most powerfully, Obama, speaking about himself, invoked "the hope of a skinny kid with a funny name who believes that America has a place for him, too".
If America can make space for a man called Barack Hussein Obama, whose father was a Kenyan . . . if he can become the president . . . well, that hopefully means the world can make space for me and people like me somewhere other than on the bottom rungs of society. And if 40 years after the assassination of Dr Martin Luther King jnr, America has a very real chance of electing a black man as its president . . . who knows? Africa could well yet have a very bright future.
Irish caste system tags refugees as lepers
Irish caste system tags refugees as lepers
21 May, 2008
SOMEONE RECENTLY asked my wife if she was Irish. She is a black Zimbabwean who has been living here for the last eight years or so. This was the first time anyone has thought she might belong here.
One of the first questions that I'm asked whenever I meet someone for the first time is where I'm from. Many people who do not ask me that question just assume that I am Nigerian.
In fact, there are quite a few Irish folk who are of the impression that Zimbabwe and Nigeria are the same place, or next door to each other. As a black person, you quickly come to feel that there is one big box in the country's collective psyche called Africa, and that all black people are placed in that box until proven otherwise.
It does not take long for the observant outsider to realise that categories like African, Nigerian, Brazilian, Chinese, Indian, Filipino, Malay, Asian, Polish and east European are all related.
Some are subsets of others, many are incorrectly used interchangeably, and all belong to the bigger category known as immigrant.
A lot has been said about the so-called two-tier system of health here. That does not really surprise me because I come from a place that came to terms with the two-tier system a long time ago. What I found surprising was the subtle caste system.
From my understanding of the Indian caste system, the Brahmins were traditionally the teachers, scholars and priests. The Kshatriyas were the kings and warriors and the Vaishyas traders. Shudras were farmers, service providers and artisans. The Untouchables were considered as either a lower section of Shudras or were thought of as being outside the entire caste system.
While political power is said to have been in the hands of the Kshatriyas, the Brahmins were the keepers of religion. Based on that, I do not think it would be too much of a stretch to think of economists, academics and business leaders as our keepers of religion. Although once upon a time the heads of the church may have had that role, I doubt that the same is true today. Were Eddie Hobbs and Archbishop Diarmuid Martin to go out and ask people to do conflicting things, my money would be on Eddie succeeding to sway the majority.
Today's Kshatriyas are led by Taoiseach Brian Cowen, and include his Cabinet, Dáil Éireann, the judiciary and Irish professionals. They are our modern-day kings and warriors, while our Vaishyas are the regular folks who are the heart and soul of this country.
They are Pat the postman in Collooney, the taxi driver who decided he would break down the country for me and orient me around its politics. And the lady from the supermarket on a minimum wage who reminds me of my mum and insists on referring to me affectionately as "pet". These people are the Vaishyas as far as I can tell. Then there are the Shudras, those whose role it is to serve but who get to maintain their dignity. From where I stand, that's where that box called immigrant goes. Doctors, accountants, business people, waiters and waitresses, artisans, care givers . . . we all fit into this one group.
The only thing we have in common is that we do not belong. The exclusion many of us feel is such that most immigrants share a connection with others in the same boat even if they are from the other side of the world. My Polish friends and I sometimes play a game where we compete about which of us are most harshly judged based on nationality.
The bottom rung on the social ladder belongs to the Untouchables. These were outcasts, treated almost like biblical lepers. The treatment and attitude towards asylum seekers and refugees in today's Ireland at times is as cold. Lepers had to shout out, "leper, leper!" when a "clean" person approached them. Because that requirement no longer exists, there are some in the immigrant community who feel they are treated badly as a result of mistaken identity.
They are professionals who, when at work, are treated respectfully by clients and colleagues. When not in their places of work and with no proof of their social standing, they join the ranks of the Untouchables.
I wonder what it will take for my wife to consider herself, and to have others consider her, Irish. As far as I am concerned, I am a Zimbabwean but she is a Dub. What bar will she need to clear for the guy on the street to consider her one too? And what about her friend who was born in Ghana but has lived here for over 20 years? Then there is the little Nigerian girl from church who has lived in an asylum house for years, speaks a little Irish and was showing off her Irish dancing the other day. Where does she belong?
I am planning on living here for the foreseeable future. This country has, all things considered, been pretty good to me. Because of that, I want to give back to Ireland as I take from it. I want to contribute to this country but I feel as though Ireland does not know what to do with me. Minister of State Conor Lenihan recently reiterated his call for a debate on the integration of immigrants. I sincerely hope his call is taken seriously and some sort of public consensus is reached. If nothing else, we will all know where we stand.
21 May, 2008
SOMEONE RECENTLY asked my wife if she was Irish. She is a black Zimbabwean who has been living here for the last eight years or so. This was the first time anyone has thought she might belong here.
One of the first questions that I'm asked whenever I meet someone for the first time is where I'm from. Many people who do not ask me that question just assume that I am Nigerian.
In fact, there are quite a few Irish folk who are of the impression that Zimbabwe and Nigeria are the same place, or next door to each other. As a black person, you quickly come to feel that there is one big box in the country's collective psyche called Africa, and that all black people are placed in that box until proven otherwise.
It does not take long for the observant outsider to realise that categories like African, Nigerian, Brazilian, Chinese, Indian, Filipino, Malay, Asian, Polish and east European are all related.
Some are subsets of others, many are incorrectly used interchangeably, and all belong to the bigger category known as immigrant.
A lot has been said about the so-called two-tier system of health here. That does not really surprise me because I come from a place that came to terms with the two-tier system a long time ago. What I found surprising was the subtle caste system.
From my understanding of the Indian caste system, the Brahmins were traditionally the teachers, scholars and priests. The Kshatriyas were the kings and warriors and the Vaishyas traders. Shudras were farmers, service providers and artisans. The Untouchables were considered as either a lower section of Shudras or were thought of as being outside the entire caste system.
While political power is said to have been in the hands of the Kshatriyas, the Brahmins were the keepers of religion. Based on that, I do not think it would be too much of a stretch to think of economists, academics and business leaders as our keepers of religion. Although once upon a time the heads of the church may have had that role, I doubt that the same is true today. Were Eddie Hobbs and Archbishop Diarmuid Martin to go out and ask people to do conflicting things, my money would be on Eddie succeeding to sway the majority.
Today's Kshatriyas are led by Taoiseach Brian Cowen, and include his Cabinet, Dáil Éireann, the judiciary and Irish professionals. They are our modern-day kings and warriors, while our Vaishyas are the regular folks who are the heart and soul of this country.
They are Pat the postman in Collooney, the taxi driver who decided he would break down the country for me and orient me around its politics. And the lady from the supermarket on a minimum wage who reminds me of my mum and insists on referring to me affectionately as "pet". These people are the Vaishyas as far as I can tell. Then there are the Shudras, those whose role it is to serve but who get to maintain their dignity. From where I stand, that's where that box called immigrant goes. Doctors, accountants, business people, waiters and waitresses, artisans, care givers . . . we all fit into this one group.
The only thing we have in common is that we do not belong. The exclusion many of us feel is such that most immigrants share a connection with others in the same boat even if they are from the other side of the world. My Polish friends and I sometimes play a game where we compete about which of us are most harshly judged based on nationality.
The bottom rung on the social ladder belongs to the Untouchables. These were outcasts, treated almost like biblical lepers. The treatment and attitude towards asylum seekers and refugees in today's Ireland at times is as cold. Lepers had to shout out, "leper, leper!" when a "clean" person approached them. Because that requirement no longer exists, there are some in the immigrant community who feel they are treated badly as a result of mistaken identity.
They are professionals who, when at work, are treated respectfully by clients and colleagues. When not in their places of work and with no proof of their social standing, they join the ranks of the Untouchables.
I wonder what it will take for my wife to consider herself, and to have others consider her, Irish. As far as I am concerned, I am a Zimbabwean but she is a Dub. What bar will she need to clear for the guy on the street to consider her one too? And what about her friend who was born in Ghana but has lived here for over 20 years? Then there is the little Nigerian girl from church who has lived in an asylum house for years, speaks a little Irish and was showing off her Irish dancing the other day. Where does she belong?
I am planning on living here for the foreseeable future. This country has, all things considered, been pretty good to me. Because of that, I want to give back to Ireland as I take from it. I want to contribute to this country but I feel as though Ireland does not know what to do with me. Minister of State Conor Lenihan recently reiterated his call for a debate on the integration of immigrants. I sincerely hope his call is taken seriously and some sort of public consensus is reached. If nothing else, we will all know where we stand.
Fate of Zimbabwe hangs in the balance
Fate of Zimbabwe hangs in the balance
3 April, 2008
LAST WEEKEND, the people of Zimbabwe, in their clearest terms yet, gave Robert Mugabe his marching orders. In spite of pre-election irregularities, a hostile political environment and threats from security men, all independent indications are that there should be a change in power in Zimbabwe. All this happened despite millions of Zimbabweans in the diaspora not being given the opportunity to vote. They would have overwhelmingly voted for the opposition.
And yet, days after the poll, the presidential results have not been announced officially. The parliamentary results that have trickled through have in some instances been inconsistent with those posted outside polling stations where the initial counting was performed. Zimbabwe is now rife with speculation and conjecture, and tension is rising. As the days progress, it seems as if the fate of the country is not in the hands of the people, but in those of the heads of the military, police and intelligence.
Mugabe's genius - and make no mistake, that is exactly what he is - was to link his fate to that of his party. Parliamentary elections were not due for two years. The ruling Zanu-PF party has not been united of late and perhaps a majority of its members did not want Mugabe as their presidential candidate. Fearing that the party would not campaign wholeheartedly for him, he harmonised presidential and parliamentary elections. Now, there are rumours that it is the senior members of Zanu-PF who are fighting hardest to overturn the will of the people. There are a lot of people with a lot to lose if the Movement for Democratic Change (MDC) and Morgan Tsvangirai take power.
The big question troubling most people is what happens now? There have been reports that the opposition has been in talks with Zanu-PF officials about how to go about transferring power. There are rumours that the president has left the country, rumours that have been fuelled by the fact that he has not made a public appearance since he cast his vote. The South Africans are said to be trying to broker a deal.
Archbishop Desmond Tutu has suggested that an international peacekeeping force be sent into Zimbabwe. And to add to the intrigue, the government media seems to be pushing for a split parliament and a presidential run-off. That would do us all the great service of prolonging this ordeal for as long as three weeks.
Worse, it is not clear that the government has the resources to stage the run-off, and there is no guarantee that it would be a fair contest. The MDC has thrown a spanner in those works by announcing its victory.
Although both sides are denying it, I would be very surprised if there were not talks going on. It must be obvious to the leaders of the ruling party that Zimbabweans do not want them in government any longer. The fact that members of the Southern African Development Community (SADC) election monitoring team have criticised electoral irregularities will worry Zanu-PF. They can no longer claim that they are being persecuted by the West.
If they lose credibility among their peers and their neighbours stop supporting them, there will not be much of country to mismanage for very much longer.
The fact that Mugabe, prior to casting his vote, told the world that his conscience would not let him cheat his people only complicates things.
In a lot of other countries, many of those in the ruling elite would be in prison for crimes ranging from those against humanity to corruption and conspiracy. There are also those whose wealth and livelihoods are based on a twisted system of patronage that has helped keep the government in place. These vested interests may find themselves exposed without the cover of the current government. None of these people will easily give up what they have and may be willing to tear the country apart to maintain their positions.
The horrible truth is that Tsvangirai is going to have to dine with the devil and make some sickening compromises if there is to be a non-violent transfer of power, just as Ugandan president Yoweri Museveni has had to make with the Lord's Resistance Army to try to end the conflict there.
I respectfully disagree with Archbishop Tutu's suggestion of a peacekeeping force in Zimbabwe. An armed presence in Zimbabwe would be a disaster. That would just give credence to Mugabe's "the British are trying to take over Zimbabwe" line. That would be perhaps the only thing that would unify the military and rally those on the fence to Mugabe's aid.
Whatever the eventual outcome of such an intervention, an unacceptable number of people would probably die.
The best hope for a positive outcome lies in the intervention of South Africa's president, Thabo Mbeki, and the people of Zimbabwe. Although he has been widely criticised for his policy of quiet diplomacy, it has positioned him perfectly to help resolve this crisis. For the sake of his legacy, I am sure he will try to bring an acceptable resolution. At the same time announcing his victory was a definite show of strength on Tsvangirai's part, and one he needed to make.
All this is speculation, though. Honestly, I doubt that even those in charge of Zimbabwe right now know how things will work out. Until then, all most of us can do is pray that there is a peaceful transition. That is what most Zimbabweans are probably doing right now.
3 April, 2008
LAST WEEKEND, the people of Zimbabwe, in their clearest terms yet, gave Robert Mugabe his marching orders. In spite of pre-election irregularities, a hostile political environment and threats from security men, all independent indications are that there should be a change in power in Zimbabwe. All this happened despite millions of Zimbabweans in the diaspora not being given the opportunity to vote. They would have overwhelmingly voted for the opposition.
And yet, days after the poll, the presidential results have not been announced officially. The parliamentary results that have trickled through have in some instances been inconsistent with those posted outside polling stations where the initial counting was performed. Zimbabwe is now rife with speculation and conjecture, and tension is rising. As the days progress, it seems as if the fate of the country is not in the hands of the people, but in those of the heads of the military, police and intelligence.
Mugabe's genius - and make no mistake, that is exactly what he is - was to link his fate to that of his party. Parliamentary elections were not due for two years. The ruling Zanu-PF party has not been united of late and perhaps a majority of its members did not want Mugabe as their presidential candidate. Fearing that the party would not campaign wholeheartedly for him, he harmonised presidential and parliamentary elections. Now, there are rumours that it is the senior members of Zanu-PF who are fighting hardest to overturn the will of the people. There are a lot of people with a lot to lose if the Movement for Democratic Change (MDC) and Morgan Tsvangirai take power.
The big question troubling most people is what happens now? There have been reports that the opposition has been in talks with Zanu-PF officials about how to go about transferring power. There are rumours that the president has left the country, rumours that have been fuelled by the fact that he has not made a public appearance since he cast his vote. The South Africans are said to be trying to broker a deal.
Archbishop Desmond Tutu has suggested that an international peacekeeping force be sent into Zimbabwe. And to add to the intrigue, the government media seems to be pushing for a split parliament and a presidential run-off. That would do us all the great service of prolonging this ordeal for as long as three weeks.
Worse, it is not clear that the government has the resources to stage the run-off, and there is no guarantee that it would be a fair contest. The MDC has thrown a spanner in those works by announcing its victory.
Although both sides are denying it, I would be very surprised if there were not talks going on. It must be obvious to the leaders of the ruling party that Zimbabweans do not want them in government any longer. The fact that members of the Southern African Development Community (SADC) election monitoring team have criticised electoral irregularities will worry Zanu-PF. They can no longer claim that they are being persecuted by the West.
If they lose credibility among their peers and their neighbours stop supporting them, there will not be much of country to mismanage for very much longer.
The fact that Mugabe, prior to casting his vote, told the world that his conscience would not let him cheat his people only complicates things.
In a lot of other countries, many of those in the ruling elite would be in prison for crimes ranging from those against humanity to corruption and conspiracy. There are also those whose wealth and livelihoods are based on a twisted system of patronage that has helped keep the government in place. These vested interests may find themselves exposed without the cover of the current government. None of these people will easily give up what they have and may be willing to tear the country apart to maintain their positions.
The horrible truth is that Tsvangirai is going to have to dine with the devil and make some sickening compromises if there is to be a non-violent transfer of power, just as Ugandan president Yoweri Museveni has had to make with the Lord's Resistance Army to try to end the conflict there.
I respectfully disagree with Archbishop Tutu's suggestion of a peacekeeping force in Zimbabwe. An armed presence in Zimbabwe would be a disaster. That would just give credence to Mugabe's "the British are trying to take over Zimbabwe" line. That would be perhaps the only thing that would unify the military and rally those on the fence to Mugabe's aid.
Whatever the eventual outcome of such an intervention, an unacceptable number of people would probably die.
The best hope for a positive outcome lies in the intervention of South Africa's president, Thabo Mbeki, and the people of Zimbabwe. Although he has been widely criticised for his policy of quiet diplomacy, it has positioned him perfectly to help resolve this crisis. For the sake of his legacy, I am sure he will try to bring an acceptable resolution. At the same time announcing his victory was a definite show of strength on Tsvangirai's part, and one he needed to make.
All this is speculation, though. Honestly, I doubt that even those in charge of Zimbabwe right now know how things will work out. Until then, all most of us can do is pray that there is a peaceful transition. That is what most Zimbabweans are probably doing right now.
Aid is not best way to help Africa progress
Aid is not best way to help Africa progress
26 March, 2008
'DON'T YOU care about the plight of those poor people in Africa?"
That was the response of a zealous aid worker I had just turned down. He was, together with a large group of fellow zealots, trying to get people to sign up for a small monthly donation to help poor people in sub-Saharan Africa. They also wanted to pressure western governments to make serious efforts to fix the continent.
He couldn't understand why I, a black man, did not appear interested in helping my own people. So began a discussion on a cold windy evening, on St Patrick's Street in Cork, which lasted hours.
I was reminded of this encounter when I read John O'Shea's article, "We must bypass toxic regimes in Africa when it comes to aid" (Opinion and Analysis, March 14th). I would like to give this African's take on the issue, which is more or less a summary of that conversation in Cork.
I don't like foreign aid, or at least the form in which it is usually presented in Africa. I would like to say that I appreciate the sentiment, but that is not the case either. In most cases, there is something very paternalistic about aid, especially with respect to Africa. It is often viewed as bailing out a people incapable of sorting out their own issues.
Not only does this lead to a perception of Africans as being in some way inferior, it also does something much worse. It often leaves us Africans with the very same idea, that we are not capable of ourselves running our nations and that we are in some way inferior to other races.
The concept of helping someone in need is a noble one. Martin Luther King said injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly.
It is therefore in everyone's interest to ensure that every part of the world is in relatively good shape. The big issue is deciding how to go about it.
Imagine the Government's reaction were the Swedish health minister to announce that, as far as he was concerned, the Irish health system is not working. As a result, Sweden is taking it upon itself to come up with a system that works, fund it, and implement it. Mary Harney would be outraged, and rightly so.
And yet how often do African leaders suffer such slights? Much of the justification for colonisation was that Africans couldn't rule themselves. It is as though that argument persists.
I am not a blind nationalist. I will be the first to admit that corruption is a serious issue in Africa and, more importantly, there is an incredible amount of human suffering. Were that not the case, people like me may well not be living in this country.
Having said that, there is corruption everywhere; it just so happens that many African countries cannot afford the toll it takes on their fragile economies. And there are some African countries doing well, but they don't get mentioned often. It is important to remember that Africa is a diverse continent, not just one homogenous landmass. To imply that African leaders are "the most untrustworthy and dishonest leaders on the face of the earth" is, to put it mildly, wrong.
The truth remains that a lot of the continent needs help to move forward. Surely, though, it is these countries that should take the lead in charting their future. Surely the people that are best acquainted with the problems are the ones most likely to come up with the right solutions. And yes, some of these solutions may not be best practice by western standards, but who says that Africa should mirror Europe or America?
For example, I have listened to intelligent, well-informed, well-meaning Europeans discuss the Aids pandemic in sub-Saharan Africa. Although some of them have a good grasp of the subject, some of their conclusions are simply wrong because they do not fully appreciate the realities of things on the ground. The same can be said of World Bank-initiated structural adjustment programmes that have often done more harm thagood.
Respect for a people's dignity and right to self-determination needs to be at the forefront of any talk of aid. Paternalism just breeds resentment.
This is why men like Robert Mugabe wield such support among their peers. It is not that the entire continent is led by a club of dictators. It is the wounded pride of men and women who sacrificed everything to be free of colonial rule only to find that they are still spoken down to.
And what about the millions who are starving and sick? The answer lies with remittances and partnerships. If donor countries genuinely want to help the world's poorest, they should open up their borders. The evidence is unequivocal. Remittances, money sent back home by immigrants, far outweighs aid both in volume and in terms of reaching the intended beneficiaries.
As a doctor who worked in the thick of the Aids crisis, I can assure you that money will do more good in terms of curbing and then eradicating the disease than all the drugs in the world.
Having done that, I believe that the current pattern of aid should be inverted. There should be partnerships that are led by the recipient country. Conditions can be applied, but on both sides, and it should be the recipient, and not the donor, in the driving seat.
Eventually, my argument in Cork ended with us agreeing to disagree. We did agree, though, that we are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality. As such, it is in everyone's interest to ensure that this issue is resolved or, at the very least, debated further.
26 March, 2008
'DON'T YOU care about the plight of those poor people in Africa?"
That was the response of a zealous aid worker I had just turned down. He was, together with a large group of fellow zealots, trying to get people to sign up for a small monthly donation to help poor people in sub-Saharan Africa. They also wanted to pressure western governments to make serious efforts to fix the continent.
He couldn't understand why I, a black man, did not appear interested in helping my own people. So began a discussion on a cold windy evening, on St Patrick's Street in Cork, which lasted hours.
I was reminded of this encounter when I read John O'Shea's article, "We must bypass toxic regimes in Africa when it comes to aid" (Opinion and Analysis, March 14th). I would like to give this African's take on the issue, which is more or less a summary of that conversation in Cork.
I don't like foreign aid, or at least the form in which it is usually presented in Africa. I would like to say that I appreciate the sentiment, but that is not the case either. In most cases, there is something very paternalistic about aid, especially with respect to Africa. It is often viewed as bailing out a people incapable of sorting out their own issues.
Not only does this lead to a perception of Africans as being in some way inferior, it also does something much worse. It often leaves us Africans with the very same idea, that we are not capable of ourselves running our nations and that we are in some way inferior to other races.
The concept of helping someone in need is a noble one. Martin Luther King said injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly affects all indirectly.
It is therefore in everyone's interest to ensure that every part of the world is in relatively good shape. The big issue is deciding how to go about it.
Imagine the Government's reaction were the Swedish health minister to announce that, as far as he was concerned, the Irish health system is not working. As a result, Sweden is taking it upon itself to come up with a system that works, fund it, and implement it. Mary Harney would be outraged, and rightly so.
And yet how often do African leaders suffer such slights? Much of the justification for colonisation was that Africans couldn't rule themselves. It is as though that argument persists.
I am not a blind nationalist. I will be the first to admit that corruption is a serious issue in Africa and, more importantly, there is an incredible amount of human suffering. Were that not the case, people like me may well not be living in this country.
Having said that, there is corruption everywhere; it just so happens that many African countries cannot afford the toll it takes on their fragile economies. And there are some African countries doing well, but they don't get mentioned often. It is important to remember that Africa is a diverse continent, not just one homogenous landmass. To imply that African leaders are "the most untrustworthy and dishonest leaders on the face of the earth" is, to put it mildly, wrong.
The truth remains that a lot of the continent needs help to move forward. Surely, though, it is these countries that should take the lead in charting their future. Surely the people that are best acquainted with the problems are the ones most likely to come up with the right solutions. And yes, some of these solutions may not be best practice by western standards, but who says that Africa should mirror Europe or America?
For example, I have listened to intelligent, well-informed, well-meaning Europeans discuss the Aids pandemic in sub-Saharan Africa. Although some of them have a good grasp of the subject, some of their conclusions are simply wrong because they do not fully appreciate the realities of things on the ground. The same can be said of World Bank-initiated structural adjustment programmes that have often done more harm thagood.
Respect for a people's dignity and right to self-determination needs to be at the forefront of any talk of aid. Paternalism just breeds resentment.
This is why men like Robert Mugabe wield such support among their peers. It is not that the entire continent is led by a club of dictators. It is the wounded pride of men and women who sacrificed everything to be free of colonial rule only to find that they are still spoken down to.
And what about the millions who are starving and sick? The answer lies with remittances and partnerships. If donor countries genuinely want to help the world's poorest, they should open up their borders. The evidence is unequivocal. Remittances, money sent back home by immigrants, far outweighs aid both in volume and in terms of reaching the intended beneficiaries.
As a doctor who worked in the thick of the Aids crisis, I can assure you that money will do more good in terms of curbing and then eradicating the disease than all the drugs in the world.
Having done that, I believe that the current pattern of aid should be inverted. There should be partnerships that are led by the recipient country. Conditions can be applied, but on both sides, and it should be the recipient, and not the donor, in the driving seat.
Eventually, my argument in Cork ended with us agreeing to disagree. We did agree, though, that we are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality. As such, it is in everyone's interest to ensure that this issue is resolved or, at the very least, debated further.
Ireland appears unsure of what it wants to be
Ireland appears unsure of what it wants to be
5 March, 2008
I WAS born just after Zimbabwe gained independence from colonial rule. It was a time of transition. The majority of the country suddenly had access to education, decent employment and freedom of unrestricted travel within the country. Doors that had been shut to black people were now open and it seemed that the only thing that could hold you back was a lack of imagination and daring.
Prior to 1980, being black meant that there were only a handful of secondary schools you could attend. There were only so many jobs you could do. Certain parts of the country were off limits and your future was largely predetermined. When that changed, important questions weren't raised, or were just glossed over. What kind of country did we want Zimbabwe to be? What would be our priorities as a nation? What system of government would we have? In the euphoria of change, those questions were put aside. It was a time to celebrate and I suppose no one wanted to spoil the party.
The result was that people just lived the same lives that their former masters had lived. As insecure white Rhodesians left the country, their former homes, jobs, their very lives were taken over by those who had served them. Granted, more schools and hospitals were built. There were new roads to make rural areas more accessible. Dams were put in place and boreholes sunk.
But all the while, those who could did everything in their power to replace their former masters. They did such a good job of it that somehow today's government of Robert Mugabe is sometimes compared to that of the last white prime minister, Ian Smith.
But it wasn't just the government and the political elite that changed. Those who managed to get an education and get good jobs quickly formed the new black middle class. They took their cue from the white middle and upper classes.
They soon had live-in maids and gardeners. They moved into homes with high walls and then, in later years, electric gates and fences. They gradually began to sever ties with more distant members of their extended families. They watched western sitcoms and slowly worked to bring their lives into conformity with what was shown on TV.
By the time I entered adulthood, the transformation was near complete. Those who were able to had completed their metamorphosis. They had, in many cases, become that which they replaced. It was like living out George Orwell's Animal Farm.
Although Ireland and Zimbabwe are very different, there are some worrying parallels. The most obvious difference is that this country is as democratic as they get. You just need to look at the Mahon tribunal to see that. The level of scrutiny the Taoiseach has undergone speaks volumes and is a credit to both him and his Government, even if some of the revelations are embarrassing.
What is not so different is the concept of a growing divide between those who have and those who do not. For the educated and the connected, the opportunities here are boundless. For those who are not as fortunate, it can be a very different story.
I worked with someone (let's call him Pat) who dropped out of formal education after his Junior Certificate. He had a minimum-wage job, which in all honesty he only had because he is Irish. Pat spent most of his time outside of work drunk or getting there, and at work he spent a lot of time daydreaming of the drinking he would do after his shift.
When I last spoke to him, he was thinking of quitting his job and going on the dole. Pat is 22 years old and has a child on the way. He looks 30. I wonder sometimes how many Pats are out there. I've met my fair share. It seems really unjust to me that in a country with so much, people could be so poor. Not so much poor materially, although there's some of that too, but poor all the same.
It seems wrong that with so many German luxury cars on the roads there are so many social problems. It boggles my mind that it is taking so long to come up with an agreement with hospital consultants that everyone can live with. Then there are issues with the treatment of children with autism, a growing drug culture, gang violence and a host of other ills.
Could the problem here also be that there hasn't been enough debate on what prosperous Ireland should look like? How much should the government contribute to people's health? And what of the traditional family unit - does it have a future?
What is the role of the church today? Has material gain brought with it an enlightenment that makes the church redundant? And if that is the case, who then looks after the poor and weak, and who teaches and staffs hospitals? Civic society, politicians, some sort of combination of the two? Does television become the moral guide and the pub the place where human interaction happens?
It seems to me that unless these questions are answered, there will just be more of the same. The media will continue pointing out problems and politicians will try to outdo each other in assigning blame and proposing solutions whose end is to make them look good rather than serving their people.
5 March, 2008
I WAS born just after Zimbabwe gained independence from colonial rule. It was a time of transition. The majority of the country suddenly had access to education, decent employment and freedom of unrestricted travel within the country. Doors that had been shut to black people were now open and it seemed that the only thing that could hold you back was a lack of imagination and daring.
Prior to 1980, being black meant that there were only a handful of secondary schools you could attend. There were only so many jobs you could do. Certain parts of the country were off limits and your future was largely predetermined. When that changed, important questions weren't raised, or were just glossed over. What kind of country did we want Zimbabwe to be? What would be our priorities as a nation? What system of government would we have? In the euphoria of change, those questions were put aside. It was a time to celebrate and I suppose no one wanted to spoil the party.
The result was that people just lived the same lives that their former masters had lived. As insecure white Rhodesians left the country, their former homes, jobs, their very lives were taken over by those who had served them. Granted, more schools and hospitals were built. There were new roads to make rural areas more accessible. Dams were put in place and boreholes sunk.
But all the while, those who could did everything in their power to replace their former masters. They did such a good job of it that somehow today's government of Robert Mugabe is sometimes compared to that of the last white prime minister, Ian Smith.
But it wasn't just the government and the political elite that changed. Those who managed to get an education and get good jobs quickly formed the new black middle class. They took their cue from the white middle and upper classes.
They soon had live-in maids and gardeners. They moved into homes with high walls and then, in later years, electric gates and fences. They gradually began to sever ties with more distant members of their extended families. They watched western sitcoms and slowly worked to bring their lives into conformity with what was shown on TV.
By the time I entered adulthood, the transformation was near complete. Those who were able to had completed their metamorphosis. They had, in many cases, become that which they replaced. It was like living out George Orwell's Animal Farm.
Although Ireland and Zimbabwe are very different, there are some worrying parallels. The most obvious difference is that this country is as democratic as they get. You just need to look at the Mahon tribunal to see that. The level of scrutiny the Taoiseach has undergone speaks volumes and is a credit to both him and his Government, even if some of the revelations are embarrassing.
What is not so different is the concept of a growing divide between those who have and those who do not. For the educated and the connected, the opportunities here are boundless. For those who are not as fortunate, it can be a very different story.
I worked with someone (let's call him Pat) who dropped out of formal education after his Junior Certificate. He had a minimum-wage job, which in all honesty he only had because he is Irish. Pat spent most of his time outside of work drunk or getting there, and at work he spent a lot of time daydreaming of the drinking he would do after his shift.
When I last spoke to him, he was thinking of quitting his job and going on the dole. Pat is 22 years old and has a child on the way. He looks 30. I wonder sometimes how many Pats are out there. I've met my fair share. It seems really unjust to me that in a country with so much, people could be so poor. Not so much poor materially, although there's some of that too, but poor all the same.
It seems wrong that with so many German luxury cars on the roads there are so many social problems. It boggles my mind that it is taking so long to come up with an agreement with hospital consultants that everyone can live with. Then there are issues with the treatment of children with autism, a growing drug culture, gang violence and a host of other ills.
Could the problem here also be that there hasn't been enough debate on what prosperous Ireland should look like? How much should the government contribute to people's health? And what of the traditional family unit - does it have a future?
What is the role of the church today? Has material gain brought with it an enlightenment that makes the church redundant? And if that is the case, who then looks after the poor and weak, and who teaches and staffs hospitals? Civic society, politicians, some sort of combination of the two? Does television become the moral guide and the pub the place where human interaction happens?
It seems to me that unless these questions are answered, there will just be more of the same. The media will continue pointing out problems and politicians will try to outdo each other in assigning blame and proposing solutions whose end is to make them look good rather than serving their people.
Kenya tearing itself apart - is it so hard to imagine?
Kenya tearing itself apart - is it so hard to imagine?
31 January, 2008
I turned on the TV last night and saw angry machete-wielding Kenyans everywhere. There were pictures of people in hospital with blood-stained bandages and swollen faces. I felt like I was looking back into the dark ages! How could things have gone so wrong? How does public outrage at a stolen election turn into a tribal conflict?
More than 800 Kenyans have died so far in the post-election violence. Eight hundred. It's easy to hear statistics like that and not internalise them. How does one put 800 lost lives into context?
My high school had about 500 pupils enrolled at any one time. More people have died in Kenya than are now attending my former high school. Worse still, it is believed that over a quarter of a million people have been displaced from their homes.
I know there are more interesting things happening in the world right now than Kenya's disintegration, but indulge me. Just for a moment, let's avert our gaze from the American economy's impending recession, the US presidential race and Bertie's popularity.
Just for a short while, let us think about Kenya. Because it's an African country, it is easy to normalise the situation. Let us pretend that these people that are butchering each other are white. I know it's a bit of a stretch, but again, indulge me.
Next, imagine they aren't Kenyans at all but French or German or, God forbid, Irish? Yes, let us imagine there are two groups of Irish people at odds with each other and the country is in turmoil.
And since we're imagining that these people are white and not black, we need to make adjustments for our stereotypes.
It is one thing for uncivilised blacks to carry machetes, but decent white folk would use guns
. . . and bombs, perhaps?
I know this is a very big stretch of the imagination, but please bear with me just a little longer. You hopefully have a picture in your mind of two factions of angry Irish people, killing each other with guns and bombs, over tribal (and religious) differences as well as crooked politics. Instead of fighting an idea, they are fighting each other. Why does this picture suddenly look familiar?
I hate what is happening in Kenya now. As an African myself, my heart breaks and I'm in anguish. I am angry that a few corrupt greedy "leaders" have sacrificed so many lives for personal ambition. I'm also angry because, as an African living in Europe, I know that they have added to the chorus of voices saying there is something in us that makes us incapable of governing ourselves.
I am angry that more of my leaders haven't stood up in outrage and denounced [ Kenyan president Mwai] Kibaki's government.
But that's me, I am after all African. As for you, all I ask is that you try and understand without passing judgment. If anyone should be able to understand how a nation can turn on itself it is the Irish.
Ultimately, Africa's problems
can only be solved by Africa and Kenya's, by her people.
In the meantime, I hope
you can make a little more sense of this situation than I can.
31 January, 2008
I turned on the TV last night and saw angry machete-wielding Kenyans everywhere. There were pictures of people in hospital with blood-stained bandages and swollen faces. I felt like I was looking back into the dark ages! How could things have gone so wrong? How does public outrage at a stolen election turn into a tribal conflict?
More than 800 Kenyans have died so far in the post-election violence. Eight hundred. It's easy to hear statistics like that and not internalise them. How does one put 800 lost lives into context?
My high school had about 500 pupils enrolled at any one time. More people have died in Kenya than are now attending my former high school. Worse still, it is believed that over a quarter of a million people have been displaced from their homes.
I know there are more interesting things happening in the world right now than Kenya's disintegration, but indulge me. Just for a moment, let's avert our gaze from the American economy's impending recession, the US presidential race and Bertie's popularity.
Just for a short while, let us think about Kenya. Because it's an African country, it is easy to normalise the situation. Let us pretend that these people that are butchering each other are white. I know it's a bit of a stretch, but again, indulge me.
Next, imagine they aren't Kenyans at all but French or German or, God forbid, Irish? Yes, let us imagine there are two groups of Irish people at odds with each other and the country is in turmoil.
And since we're imagining that these people are white and not black, we need to make adjustments for our stereotypes.
It is one thing for uncivilised blacks to carry machetes, but decent white folk would use guns
. . . and bombs, perhaps?
I know this is a very big stretch of the imagination, but please bear with me just a little longer. You hopefully have a picture in your mind of two factions of angry Irish people, killing each other with guns and bombs, over tribal (and religious) differences as well as crooked politics. Instead of fighting an idea, they are fighting each other. Why does this picture suddenly look familiar?
I hate what is happening in Kenya now. As an African myself, my heart breaks and I'm in anguish. I am angry that a few corrupt greedy "leaders" have sacrificed so many lives for personal ambition. I'm also angry because, as an African living in Europe, I know that they have added to the chorus of voices saying there is something in us that makes us incapable of governing ourselves.
I am angry that more of my leaders haven't stood up in outrage and denounced [ Kenyan president Mwai] Kibaki's government.
But that's me, I am after all African. As for you, all I ask is that you try and understand without passing judgment. If anyone should be able to understand how a nation can turn on itself it is the Irish.
Ultimately, Africa's problems
can only be solved by Africa and Kenya's, by her people.
In the meantime, I hope
you can make a little more sense of this situation than I can.