Is Africa the continent on which we live or a word we use to win arguments? Last Friday was Africa Day. Much of the media marked the event, and the president issued a statement. However, while the people who shape opinion seemed to think the rest of the continent was worth a mention, the day was ignored in political discussion.
A personal story illustrates the point. I was invited to talk at an event on Friday organised by a bank. The organisers deliberately held it on Africa Day and asked speakers to talk about politics and economics across the continent, which we did. During a lively question and answer session, not a single person asked anything about the continent. No one, it seemed, shared the bank’s enthusiasm for talking about Africa.
Interest in Africa is patchy among opinion formers.
In the media, interest in Africa Day did not stretch to a serious attempt to look at trends on the continent.
— AFRICA IS NOT A CONCEPT; IT IS A CONTINENT ON WHICH MILLIONS LIVE WHOSE POLITICS AND ECONOMICS AFFECT US DIRECTLY.
The rest of the year, Africa is a political and economic side story; some British media offered more reportage of last week’s Burundi referendum than media here.
Nevertheless, opinion formers still show more interest than the rest of the country.
Nowhere else on the planet does the national debate of the largest economy in a region proceed as if the rest of a continent did not exist. This is particularly strange given how active this country’s businesses are in Africa and how much of a role it plays in our economy.
What makes it doubly odd here is that decolonisation is a buzzword among the politically aware. It is common for people to insist that we think like Africans, not colonisers. And yet, for most who say this, a ballot in Burundi or conflict in either Congo is of no interest.
In this country, Africa is a symbol, not a place in which we live. Decolonisation means black people should not be expected to accept the ideas and values of the West’s local representatives as the only or even the main source of wisdom.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, Africa conjures up racially bigoted images of black people failing to govern.
On all sides, Africa also means people allegedly streaming across our borders who just about everyone sees as a threat and a problem: whatever we claim to think about Africa, it is clear what most of us think about other Africans despite evidence that they bring far more to this country than they take out.
Africa is always a word used to make a point, not a home whose experiences affect us.
In political debate here, Africa is like land — it is a symbol of something else. Like all symbols in complicated societies, it works in strange ways, as when conservative white people become more keen to insist on their African-ness than politically active black people. But none of this translates into an interest in what is happening on the continent here and now.
That this is a problem should hardly need pointing out. Africa is not a concept; it is a continent on which millions live whose politics and economics affect us directly. We are less able to deal with those influences when we ignore the continent on which we live.
And, believe it or not, taking the rest of Africa seriously may also teach us important lessons on how to deal with our own problems, since some are much the same as the rest of the continent’s problems.
If we begin treating Africa as our continent rather than a political weapon, we may learn a great deal to our advantage.
• Friedman is research professor with the humanities faculty of the University of Johannesburg.
Would you like to comment on this article?
Sign up (it's quick and free) or sign in now.
Please read our Comment Policy before commenting.