In trying to explain both my work and my philosophy in the wake of being awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, I was reminded of the traditional African stool, which is comprised of a seat and three legs. The first leg represents democratic space, where rights—whether human, women's, children's, or environmental—are respected. The second leg symbolizes the sustainable and accountable management of natural resources both for those living today and for those in the future, in a manner that is just and fair, including for people on the margins of society. The third leg stands for what I term “cultures of peace.” These take the form of fairness, respect, compassion, forgiveness, recompense, and justice.
Just as the African stool is made out of a single block of wood, each leg, or pillar, is reinforced by the others and formed from the same grain, so the issues must be addressed together and simultaneously. For instance, the responsible and accountable management of resources, as well as the sharing of them equitably, can be accomplished only if there is democratic space, where rights are respected. In a dictatorial or one-party system, resources cannot be shared equitably and sustainably, because the political leaders tend to apportion them among themselves, their cronies, and their supporters. Since only the elite have access to the wealth of the country, the vast majority of the population is excluded and dissenting voices have little power to bring about change. Where democratic space has been created, however, cultures of peace are more likely to be built and to flourish; when such space is constrained or nonexistent, peace will likewise be elusive and conflict more likely.
The three legs of the stool support the seat, which in this conception represents the milieu in which development can take place. Citizens, feeling secure that the three legs are in place—that their country has robust democratic principles, equitable distribution of resources, and strong cultures of peace—can be educated, productive, and creative. In this situation, the spirit of the citizenry not only welcomes development, but drives it itself, because individually and collectively the people feel they have an opportunity to contribute. A secure seat also provides the environment in which a government can receive funds from multilateral agencies, lending institutions, or private donors, and use them accountably and responsibly—free of corruption—for the benefit not of the few, but of the many.
In Africa today, a number of countries are trying to balance on two of the stool's three legs. Some are teetering on only one leg; a few have none whatsoever and have collapsed. Because citizens in such states live in fear, they are reluctant to take steps to hold their leaders accountable, which means those leaders can, and often will, do what they want with whatever funds flowing into their countries. The democratization process is frustrated, political and economic leadership is destructive, and conflict and insecurity are entrenched.
Whether we work in development agencies, international institutions like the United Nations and the World Bank, or NGOs, or are simply individuals who wish to improve the lot of the very poor in Africa or elsewhere, it is crucial to approach development from this perspective, in which an environment is created for citizens to engage productively. It is essential to recognize when one or more of the three pillars is absent, and accept that, no matter how many funds are provided, in a country that is balancing on two, one, or no legs, the money may not only be wasted or have only a temporary effect, but may even contribute to the continuing instability of that society. The forces responsible for breaking and twisting the stool are still present and, in many countries, still powerful. Having a stable stool means ensuring that a holistic approach to development is adopted, placing a priority on democratic governance and respect for human and other rights; equitable, sustainable, and accountable use of all resources; and managing affairs of state in an accountable and responsible way. When all these facets are in place, the stool is secure, the state has stability, and peace and development can occur.
The appreciation and acknowledgment of these three pillars of development must, however, be combined with a recognition that the current stool did not just appear by magic. In many African countries, there was once a fully formed stool—before the corruption and poor governance, before the destabilization of Cold War politics, and, to a greater or lesser extent, before societies were uprooted and pulled apart by the forces of slavery, colonialism, and modernity. In the intervening years the stool has been bashed, its legs broken and then reconstituted with weak or pliable plastic that is easily twisted and not integral to the piece of wood itself. The meaning is clear: all blame aside, it is essential to accept the truth of the history of Africa and admit that the contemporary stool has been altered drastically. It is also crucial to take on the challenge of trying to imagine what the original stool could have looked like, in what ways its pillars served the people, and how those pillars might be reenvisioned for the challenges of today.
No nation has developed these three pillars without the people themselves chiseling them, sometimes at a great price. In Africa, independence movements throughout the continent struggled to free their fellow citizens from colonialism and imperialism—including those led by Jomo Kenyatta, Patrice Lumumba, Kwame Nkrumah, Nelson Mandela, and Walter Sisulu. One is reminded of the courage and determination of those who fought for women's suffrage in the early part of the twentieth century; Mahatma Gandhi's campaign for Indian independence, which mobilized hundreds of thousands of individuals in nonviolent resistance to British rule; and the civil rights movement in the United States, for which many people gave their lives. All these movements included in their ranks many whose names aren't recorded by history, or whose bones still lie unburied in the forests where they fell fighting for their land and freedom, or who are interred in unmarked graves.
Without citizen participation and an active civil society, prospects for sustainable, equitable development are bleak. The stool will not be created or strengthened without citizens' engagement, because how else will governments be held accountable for their actions? Even today, most governments in Africa (as in other regions) will not respond to the needs of their people unless they see that if they do not, their time in office will be short.
It is in no one's interest to have governments threatened by guns, or coups, or civil wars. Instead, governments need to be “threatened” by votes, cast in free and fair elections. If leaders think their people will not reelect them because the people are unhappy about how they are managing the affairs of the state, leaders will (or should) respond to the wishes of their citizenry. This is also why empowering local communities, promoting local democracy, and decentralizing power into, for example, parliamentary constituencies is so important. (I write more about my personal experience of this process, and ideas for its wider application, in chapter 7.) In the process of engaging civil society, the three legs of the stool can be strengthened: governance becomes more open, transparent, and accountable; equity and fairness are promoted; and prospects for peace are bolstered.
At the moment, in too many African countries, concepts of civil society and democratic space are merely theoretical or abstract. However, while many Africans are not willing to enthusiastically embrace the concepts of accountability and transparency, it is clear that when Africans practice and live them, they realize the need for them and value them deeply. This is why in order for any vision of development to work, those who believe in transparency and accountability must communicate it to the people. Thus, while Africans need to take the lead role in supporting and strengthening civil societies—and many already are—there is a place for the international community, if it approaches development holistically, with a view to accelerating this process through moral support and financial assistance.
The practical challenge, of course, is to determine what responsibilities the international institutions concerned with development and human rights and governance (whether African or otherwise) have to those societies that are balancing on two, one, or perhaps none of the legs. Should we isolate those countries until they rebuild their stool on th
eir own, and in the meantime leave ordinary people to suffer the consequences of violence, bad governance, and the theft of national resources?
It appears that while it would not be responsible to deliver large sums of aid money to those countries ruled by autocrats, citizens ought not to be forgotten until they get themselves out of their difficulties. This isn't simply a matter of protecting the human rights of individuals; it is also about acknowledging the potential knock-on effects of dysfunctional governments. The selling off of natural resources for the personal enrichment of a small elite, suppressing democratic activities and harassing members of civil society, fomenting violence between communities or political parties, mismanaging the economy, and neglecting basic services—all these contribute to the likelihood that the state will eventually collapse.
If it does, a country can be taken over by warlords, factions, or clans that seek whatever they can get in the short term, without regard for the long-term prospects of the nation. (Economist Paul Collier has calculated that the average civil war costs a country and neighboring nations about $64 billion, and that the main risk factors for civil wars and coups are low income and growth levels, both of which are widespread in Africa.13) Once the vicious cycle of violence, vengeance, and hatred starts, it can quickly become unstoppable. And the consequences will last for years, if not decades, spilling over into other countries and causing instability and further human misery. We have seen this tragedy in Somalia, Congo, and the Darfur region of Sudan.
In these situations, other African countries, the African Union, and the international community ought to remain engaged in dialogue with leaders and civil society groups and urge reforms, containing the damage as much as possible. Judicious application of international and local sanctions that target the perpetrators of injustices while not deepening the people's suffering offer a way to apply pressure to governments that ignore the plight of their people, as do arms embargoes and freezing the bank accounts of such leaders. These, of course, are tools and not panaceas; all nation-states have their own interests to pursue, and international cooperation over the crises in Darfur, Congo, and Zimbabwe has been inadequate, to say the least. But such engagement might go some way toward assisting countries to get out of their morass. And, in the long run, if citizen activists are supported, interacted with, and provided with the opportunities to learn from civil society leaders in other countries who have dealt with oppressive regimes, the pillar of democratic space would be strengthened and the stool's other two essential pillars could be put back in place and, crucially, maintained.
AID AND
THE DEPENDENCY SYNDROME
IN RECENT YEARS, the emerging consensus within and outside Africa on the importance of democratic space for the continent has coincided with increased interest within East Asia and the West in helping the poorest one billion individuals, many of whom are concentrated in sub-Saharan Africa, to reach at least the lowest rung of the development ladder, from which they can climb higher. Elected leaders, senior diplomats, economists, and celebrities have helped to place the issues of Africa's dehumanizing poverty, HIV/AIDS crisis, food security, and debt relief on the international community's agenda.
DEALING WITH MALARIA AND DEPENDENCY
In January 2005, I attended the World Economic Forum, a gathering of heads of state, entrepreneurs, economists, and public figures that is held every year in Davos, Switzerland. In one session, I listened as then Tanzanian president Benjamin Mkapa addressed the theme “Funding the War on Poverty” on a panel that included President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva of Brazil; Domenico Siniscalco, Italy's then minister of economy and finance; Gordon Brown, then the UK's chancellor of the exchequer; American economist Jeffrey Sachs; and Bill Gates, the founder of Microsoft.1 President Mkapa made a passionate appeal for the global North (the wealthy, industrialized countries, which are mainly located in the northern hemisphere) to cancel the debts that his country owed, which, he said, severely hampered his government's ability to make investments in public health, including, for example, providing bed nets to protect Tanzanian children from malaria-infected mosquitoes.
During the question-and-answer period that followed, an audience member, the American actress Sharon Stone, told President Mkapa how moved she'd been by his speech and that she wished to help him save Tanzanian children from malaria. She immediately made a pledge of $10,000 to buy bed nets. She then turned to others in the room and asked them to do the same. I could hear the urgency in her voice to solve right there and then what for her seemed an eminently preventable problem: children were dying of malaria for lack of bed nets. I could empathize; all of us feel pain when we hear that children are suffering. Within a short time, Ms. Stone had received a number of pledges, totaling $100,000.2 The funds would be donated to the Global Fund to Fight AIDS, Tuberculosis, and Malaria.
It is always inspiring to watch famous or wealthy people stretch out their hands to help the poor. There are few well-known Africans who could command the same level of attention from the international media, donor agencies, or governments as Ms. Stone and others like her from the United States or Europe can. Some celebrities, such as Bob Geldof and Bono, who was also in the room that day, speak out forcefully about how current economic and political systems continue to harm Africa—views that they can take to any elected leader in the world and get some results. Nevertheless, once such international personalities have done their part, it is up to the African leadership and people to make sure the resources that result are used appropriately.
Still, while sufficient funding is important—for instance, to purchase bed nets—in my experience development success isn't only about money; if it were, Africa would have solved many of her problems years ago. Since 1960, the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD), for example, has provided more than $650 billion in development assistance to sub-Saharan Africa.3 And yet, every year, approximately eighty thousand children below the age of five in Tanzania die as a result of malaria;4 one-fifth of all child deaths in Africa are caused by malaria;5 and in 2005, according to the World Health Organization, 90 percent of the nearly 900,000 deaths from malaria were in sub-Saharan Africa.6
Why is preventing and treating malaria not a major concern of African governments? Does any government or individual in Africa need to be persuaded to protect children from preventable diseases? Why do individuals not develop policies and habits that are sustainable and effective for dealing with the disease?
The reason for this examination is that much of sub-Saharan Africa has an environment conducive to mosquitoes and the malarial parasite. In fact, it's been suggested that the spread of Islam in Africa southward beyond the Sahel was curtailed by the incidence of malaria. Bed nets save lives, and they should be widely available throughout Africa; the same is the case for twelve-cent antimalarial medicines.7 Yet, up to now, it seems as if ordinary Africans have not understood the value of bed nets in preventing malaria—especially for their children—enough to purchase them, if they can afford the four dollars, or to seek them out from government health workers if they cannot. Cultural norms at the local level may dictate that only the man of the household, or only the adults, can use bed nets, even though the principal objective of making the nets available is to protect the children. Communities also may not be aware that bed nets don't offer perpetual protection: if they tear, they need to be repaired or replaced, which may put them out of the reach of poor households.
This lack of attention or understanding appears to be the case with many African governments and media as well. Why haven't governments directed that information about the importance of bed nets in preventing childhood malaria be part of the school curriculum in the countries of Africa where malaria is common, so that children, their parents, and communities all understand that malaria is a killer and that combating it requires embracing a set of actions to protect themselves?
It is clear that a gap exists between the concern expressed about preventable diseases i
n Africa by development experts and that evidenced by African governments and the peoples themselves. In my experience, both middle-class urban-dwellers and rural parents have not taken seriously the need to prevent these diseases, and, if an infection occurs, to seek immediate treatment, including for children. Likewise, the leadership in Africa has not paid enough attention to these diseases, or successfully sensitized a critical mass of the African people about their deadly nature and encouraged them to take steps to reduce the toll.
Most Africans rarely hear about such illnesses from their ministers of health unless an international development expert comes bearing money or bed nets—at which point the minister is eager to talk about the particular disease the donor is concerned about. One might ask: Why do diseases seem to hit the national headlines only when there is an unusual outbreak, or a new donor-funded effort has been launched, as opposed to being a significant issue for journalists to report on regularly? Why should it take foreign experts working for foreign development agencies and funded by foreign donors to convince the majority of Africans that they should take the problem of deadly but preventable diseases seriously? There are doctors and nurses and community health workers in Africa, but one doesn't see them breaking down the doors of their respective governments to make the case for urgent action to combat malaria and other preventable diseases.
The Challenge for Africa Page 6