Dictatorland: The Men Who Stole Africa by Paul Kenyon (2018)

I very much enjoyed this book and highly recommend it – but it is not at all what I expected. With the title ‘Dictatorland’ and a photo of an African dictator on the cover, I expected it to be an entertaining romp through the careers of Africa’s most notable dictators and kleptocrats, and it certainly contains that element, with chapters describing the rise to power of the following notable crooks and dictators:

  • Mobutu Sese Seko (Congo)
  • Robert Mugabe (Zimbabwe)
  • Muammar Gaddafi (Libya)
  • Sani Abacha (Nigeria)
  • Francisco Macías and Teodoro Obiang (Equatorial Guinea)
  • Félix Houphouët-Boigny (Ivory Coast)
  • Isaias Afwerki (Eritrea)

Kenyon gives potted biographies consisting of short, punchy sections, scenes depicting the origins, education and early years of each baddie, their early involvement with their country’s independence movements or army (training ground for most dictators) or with a nationalist guerrilla movement.

Then he moves on to gruesome snapshots from their years in power, their madcap schemes (Mobutu’s Versailles-sized palace and Houphouët-Boigny’s basilica in the deep jungle vie for winner of the most expensive African folly) – descriptions of their secret police and torture chambers (Equatorial Guinea’s Macías Nguema is estimated to have had up to a quarter of the entire population of his country executed, making him ‘one of the most brutal dictators in history’) – and then on to the inevitable economic collapse, and their final overthrow, leaving a country in ruins.

In telling these stories Kenyon gives excellent backgrounders on the colonisation of the relevant country; the behaviour of its colonial government; the rise of nationalist agitation during the 1950s; the fraught political manoeuvres around independence, and so on.

All these profiles and pocket histories are clear and authoritative. They make for an immensely enjoyable read which conveys a lot of historical information with a sure, light touch.

The geological context

BUT there is one more crucial aspect of the book which I hadn’t expected at all; this is that Kenyon places the careers of all his dictators within a broader, what you could call, geological context. The entire book starts not with the this or that imperial conquest of this or that part of Africa, as you might expect, but with a description of the earliest ancestor of the genus Homo which has so far been found in Africa, the so-called specimen LD 350-1.

The point is that this introduces a deep historical perspective, far deeper than the past century or so of political history, a deep perspective from which Kenyon describes the geological history of Africa, and in particular the origin of the high value minerals and resources which were to play such an important part in modern Africa’s history, namely copper, diamonds, gold and then oil.

So, for example, he tells us about the discovery of the enormous stands of diamonds in southern Africa which caused the white invaders to seize the land from its black African inhabitants, and then to start fighting among themselves. He tells us the origin of the de Beers company and why the Kimberly region got its name, none of which I knew before.

This ‘geological perspective’ provides a deeper historical context for the actions of all the imperial conquerors, the colonial administrators, and then the newly independent black African leaders. It shows how they all tended to be dazzled by, fall victim to, act on the basis of, lust for Africa’s mineral wealth.

This perspective explains why the first few years of Congo’s independence era were characterised by civil war when the mineral-rich province of Katanga tried to secede from the nation (with the help of the Belgian government which wanted to hang on to its copper and diamond industries). It helps you understand how the Great War of Africa (1998 to 2002) developed into a struggle between numerous factions and foreign armies to seize parts of the country rich in minerals (diamonds, copper, gold, cobalt).

In the same vein, chapter three isn’t about a dictator at all but consists of an extended, and very readable, history of the rise of oil as the central fuel of the twentieth century. Kenyon gives the history of oil discoveries, first of all in Persia, then in Saudi Arabia and the other Gulf states, in the 1920s and 30s, the controlling role played by Britain – which still owned or ran many of those places – alongside the growing power of America and how, by contrast, for decades, no oil companies thought Africa would yield oil deposits.

The oil chapter introduces us to a number of white, European oil prospectors, from back in the glory days of prospecting, the 1950s. We meet more of them than we do Africans, especially the ones Kenyon has tracked down and interviewed, old white men in their 80s (men like Dave Kingston, Rex Brown, David Orser) who still remember the excitement of the primitive conditions they worked under in the deserts of Libya or the malarial swamps of the Niger Delta.

The point is that a lot of those early prospectors and the oil companies they worked for (BP, Shell, Esso) were dead wrong about Africa: certain parts of it turned out to be sitting on top of vast oceans of oil, starting with Nigeria, where oil was struck in 1956, and then in Libya in 1959, then offshore Angola.

But the deep political-historical point is that, just as the so-called winds of political change were sweeping through Africa, many if not most places on the continent were about to undergo a sweeping economic change which would see their entire economies becoming orientated around a handful of commodities, commodities which the West would not only discover and develop, but do everything in their power to keep their sweaty hands on.

The dictators didn’t plan it, but they came to power just as a handful of commodities emerged as the dominant factor in their countries’ economies and the key importance of this is that an industry like gold or copper or oil is a) highly centralised and b) generates fantastic wealth.

The coincidence of mineral discoveries with independence gave the dictators immense personal control about which foreign companies were awarded contracts and licences to mine and extract the resources, and taught the dictators how to cream off for themselves and their families, hangers-on and clients, truly vast fortunes, billions and billions of dollars.

To put it another way: although nobody understood it at the time, the mineralisation of the economies of so many African nations was to create and entrench the rule of dictators and elites who acquired obscene wealth, while their nations’ infrastructures fell to pieces and their populations starved in the streets.

Many resource-rich African nations were to turn into rentier states (p.225), a rentier state being ‘a state which derives all or a substantial portion of its national revenues from the rent paid by foreign individuals, concerns or governments…With virtually no taxes citizens are less demanding and politically engaged and the income from rents negates the need for economic development… Instead, the government essentially ‘bribes’ the citizenry with extensive social welfare programs, becoming an allocation or distributive state…In the words of Noah Feldman in his book After Jihad, “no fiscal connection between the government and the people. The government has only to keep its people in line so that they do not overthrow it and start collecting the oil rents themselves.”‘ (Wikipedia).

Dictators like Mobutu or the successive rulers of Nigeria dealt solely and exclusively with multinational corporations dealing in oil, copper, diamond or gold, raking in fortunes from licensing fees and a cut of the profits.

With this guaranteed income the rulers of rentier states do not need to consult the population (no need for pesky elections) because their administrations aren’t reliant on taxation the way ‘normal’ western states are; with a guaranteed income not reliant on elections or representative assemblies of any kind, billionaire dictators become ever-more detached from conditions in their countries which they let go to rack and ruin. They can spend a fortune on building up a state-of-the-art military and still earn enough in corrupt rake-offs to build a palace in the jungle and hire Concorde to fly in ice cream from Paris (as Mobutu did) or build the biggest most expensive folly in Africa (as Félix Houphouët-Boigny did), while their populations see their standard of living collapse, prices hit by hyper-inflation, food become rarer, drinking water unavailable, and ultimately starve.

Back to Kenyon’s book, so it’s only after this long disquisition on the early history of oil exploration in chapter 3, that Kenyon returns to his ostensible subject, the dictators, in chapter 4. This gives an excellent summary of the 1969 Libyan coup staged by the Free Officers Movement which overthrew King Idris (friend to the West), and which installed what was supposedly a free socialist society, but which quite quickly came to be dominated by Colonel Gaddafi and became more and more authoritarian – spies and eavesdroppers in all public places, midnight arrest, torture and imprisonment without trial, the usual stuff. The point being, he was able to do pretty much what he wanted, set up a security state, claim to have invented a whole new political philosophy, and provide training bases for terrorist groups from around the world, because of the vast oil revenues his government acquired year after year without lifting a finger.

I expected a book titled ‘Dictators’ to consist of maybe a chapter each about Africa’s top ten dictators, amounting to an ‘Observer I Spy Book of African Dictators’ – but although that is, obviously, the ostensible subject, it’s not really the core of the text. It’s this geological or mineralogical context which is, arguably, the book’s most distinctive feature.

Contents

The book is divided into the following parts:

Part One: Gold and Diamonds

Part Two: Oil

Part Three: Chocolate

Part Four: Modern Slavery

Cocoa

Clearly the topic of chocolate doesn’t quite fit into my initial suggestion that the book has a ‘geological’ or ‘mineralogical’ perspective. Chocolate is very much about geography, as I learned from Kenyon’s typically clear and interesting description, which explains that cocoa bean trees only grow in very restricted latitudes, in the right kind of tropical forest. The plant originated in South America but was experimentally introduced into Africa by Europeans, and nowadays Côte d’Ivoire and Ghana are by far the two largest cocoa growing countries, accounting for over 60 % of global cocoa production.

Which is why, after chapter 7 introducing and explaining the history and development of cocoa in Africa, chapter 8 of the book focuses in on Côte d’Ivoire and the notorious figure of Félix Houphouët-Boigny who started out as a mild-mannered doctor, union leader, and cocoa planter himself, before winning election to the French Assembly and then becoming Ivory Coast’s first president, a position he held from 1960 to his death in 1993, making him the longest-serving leader in Africa’s history (a record subsequently beaten by Robert Mugabe, ruler of Zimbabwe from 1980 to 2017). So a chapter about a dictator, alright; but placed in the broader context of a history of the relevant basic resource.

Anyway, chocolate is obviously not a mineral, which left me a little stumped at how to give an overall summary of the book’s perspective. ‘A resource-based history of some dictatorial African rulers’? ‘A commodities-based explanation of African tyrants’? Not exactly catchy, are they? I can see why Kenyon’s publishers will have struggled to come up with a title capturing what it’s taken me three or four paragraphs to explain and how ‘Dictatorland’, although very catchy, doesn’t begin to convey this historical and resource-led backgrounding which I’ve been banging on about.

So: the book is not at all what I was expecting because its focus on precious resources makes it much more interesting, and much more penetrating, than just another purely political history would have done.

Lots of context, not so much analysis

A reviewer on Amazon points out that, entertaining and well told though the dictators’ stories are, the book lacks any kind of political or intellectual analysis.

Well, yes and no. Kenyon has no ideological axe to grind and amid his many anecdotes, his stories about oil, independence struggles, his very readable accounts of the early days and triumphant rises of his dictators, it’s true that there’s little or no effort to question or dig deeper.

If you compare him with Michael Ignatieff’s books about international affairs, the latter uses examples and interviews to make searching points about the nature of nationalism and society which I found immensely illuminating and useful. There’s nothing or not much like that here. Kenyon tells his stories, describes key scenes from each country’s history, interviews survivors from those times, very well and very readably, and that tends to be your lot.

The Amazon reviewer wanted answers to more theoretical questions like: Why has post-independence Africa been such a disaster? What is it in African culture which makes Africans incapable of ruling themselves? Is democracy impossible in Africa and if so, why? Kenyon never asks those kinds of questions. He’s a descriptive not an analytical writer.

Except that, arguably, the mineralogical and resource-focused context is his theory, his analysis, his explanation. His mineral and resource-based perspective in fact goes a long way to presenting an explanation which underpins many of Africa’s troubles, and which, although it may be familiar to experts, I hadn’t come across in the dozen or so other books about Africa which I’ve read or not, I think, considered in such detail.

His short reference to ‘rentier states’, so brief it doesn’t merit inclusion in the book’s index, is a mighty key which unlocks not just the behaviour, but the tendency to total corruption, and the longevity which characterised so many of the dictators.

That first generation of dictators, coming to power in the early 1960s, is now routinely vilified, but their longevity did ensure stability of sorts. Since their overthrows, whether in the 90s (Houphouët-Boigny), in the Arab Spring (Gaddafi) or later (Mugabe in 2017), their countries have often got even worse and the resource perspective explains why: it’s because the dictators weren’t followed by ‘democracy’ in any sense we in the West understand. The demise of the dictators resulted in the eruption of multiple groups, parties and leaders, including the ever-intrusive armies, who themselves set about squabbling for control of the narrow range of commodities which generate such obscene wealth.

The West and the aid organisations have been fighting a battle for over 50 years to persuade the ruling classes of African countries to give a damn about their populations, to invest in infrastructure, industry and agriculture, to make long-term plans to develop the country as a whole and thus remove their populations from poverty. Meanwhile the elites themselves have been engaged in often cut-throat competition to fight their way to the seat of absolute power which the first generation of post-independence rulers showed is the pathway to unimaginable wealth, power and prestige.

This deep economic and political conflict is still at work in many African countries to this day, it’s arguably the key to understanding African affairs, and Kenyon’s excellent, hugely readable, enjoyable and illuminating book really helps to explain why.

Let the facts speak for themselves

There’s one other really strong aspect to Kenyon’s narrative which I want to emphasise. This is his admirable ability to let the facts speak for themselves.

The last two books about Africa I’ve read – ‘I Didn’t Do It For You: How The World Used and Abused A Small African Nation’ by Michela Wrong and ‘Blood River: A Journey To Africa’s Broken Heart’ by Tim Butcher – are both excellent in their ways, but irritated me because the authors banged on and on about the evils of imperialism and the racism of the colonial administrations, throwing these terms of abuse around on every page, repeating the same old accusations in the same old clichéd phrases, all the while generally downplaying the role of modern African rulers in Africa’s woes.

In my Wrong review I pointed out that simply venting the opinion that the colonial regimes were racist and exploitative, and insistently blaming ‘the West’ for everything that ever went wrong in Eritrea, soon becomes boring, irritating and, eventually, counter-productive.

By complete contrast Kenyon’s text is studded with facts, gives the facts, just the facts. For example, the opening chapter about diamonds states the facts about how the imperialists in the 1880s and 1890s stole the land from its native owners, in the Congo, in Rhodesia, in stark, straight, factual terms which really bring home the inexcusable iniquity of their behaviour.

Kenyon gives the facts about how local chieftains and rulers were swindled out of their land by crooked legal documents they didn’t understand, or simply driven off it at gunpoint; how Africans were corralled into small, unhealthy, infertile areas, while the whites stole all the best agricultural land (notably in Kenya and Rhodesia), or any land which showed signs of gold, copper or diamonds (South Africa in particular).

In the chapter about Mugabe Kenyon describes the surreal maze of passes and identity cards and papers which the British colonial authorities in what was Southern Rhodesia demanded that every African needed just to get around, just to walk down the street, how they had to step off the pavement if white people were walking towards them, how the slightest infringement of this world of rules triggered shouted abuse, beatings or arbitrary arrest.

In other words, Kenyon’s simple statements of the facts of imperial conquest, imperial land grabbing, imperial hypocrisy, imperial greed, the imposition of deliberately discriminatory, deliberately demeaning and humiliating regulations, at every level and every minute of an Africans’ life, is infinitely more powerful than Wrong or Butcher’s more generalised sloganeering about ‘racism’ or ‘the West’.

I don’t think Kenyon anywhere in the book uses the word ‘racist’ because he doesn’t have to. Kenyon’s plain, lucid stating of the facts of each of these issues does the same job but infinitely better; makes you quiver with anger, shrivel with embarrassment, and totally understand the rage and the impatience for freedom which drove agitators like Lumumba and Mugabe.

And this is another reason why I think this is an excellent book.

Eritrea

The very last chapter demonstrates Kenyon’s strengths and weaknesses. It gives a good account of the rise to tyranny of Isaias Afwerki, the man who rose steadily through the ranks of the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (EPLF) to lead them to victory in the bitter 30-year-long war against Ethiopia, which finally came to an end in May 1991, with Ethiopia’s granting of Eritrea’s independence.

Kenyon tells the same story as Michela Wrong does in her long, digressive book ‘I Didn’t Do It For You’ in literally one-tenth of the space (one 44-page chapter versus Wrong’s 432 pages). Moreover, Kenyon’s account is more up to date, Wrong, published in 2005, hoping Afwerki’s regime might be overthrown or soften, Kenyon, published in 2018, giving the bad news that Afwerki’s regime not only didn’t soften but has become steadily more harsh and repressive.

Since independence Eritrea has had no elections, no constitution, no free press or media. It is almost impossible to gain entry to report on it. Eritrea commonly competes with North Korea as least free country in the world.

Also, Kenyon is balanced. Michela Wrong, as I’ve mentioned, comes over as very biased, repeating whenever she can the strongest criticisms of western nations like Italy, Britain and the West, very slow to blame anyone else (such as the brutal Derg regime in Ethiopia or its Soviet suppliers or the vile Afwerki), very slow to concede that the colonial period brought any benefits.

Kenyon, by contrast, feels fair and balanced. He clearly states that Mussolini’s invasion of Ethiopia was imperialism at its most brutal, involving poison gassing of entire villages; but that the Fascist regime did then set about building roads and harbour facilities and wide boulevards and a modern infrastructure. Similarly, he mentions that the Brits asset stripped the country after they’d won it from Italy in 1940 but also introduced democracy, a free press and trade unions. In other words, he shows that the imperial legacy was mixed.

Something also emerges from Kenyon’s account which doesn’t so much from Wrong’s, which is the importance of the visit by Afwerki and a few other EFPL leaders to Maoist China in the mid-1960s. They arrived in the middle of the so-called Cultural Revolution and were very impressed by the zeal and sense of embattled virtue of the young Red Guards who rounded up the entire bourgeoisie and shunted intellectuals off to the country to work alongside peasants.

This more than anything explains how Afwerki went from being a hero of the independence struggle to one of the most repressive dictators in the world – because he knows no better. All he knows is The Struggle, and so he imagines himself surrounded by conspirators, a paranoia which is occasionally proven true because people have, understandably enough, conspired to overthrow him, and then was confirmed when was broke out anew with Ethiopia in 1998, and then 9/11 confirmed the rising threat from Islamists in the country, and then the civil war between Tigrayans from the north fighting against the Ethiopian government and so, you can see it from his point of view: there is constant struggle; the revolution is in continual jeopardy; only one man can save the revolution and save his country, and that’s why he can’t afford to hold elections. What if Islamists, if regional separatists, if rebels or traitors were elected? No, of course not. Only one man can save the nation, and he has to carry on his embattled lonely duty for as long as it takes.

And so another African dictator is born.

Wrong spends 400 pages trying to persuade us that it was Italy, Britain and the wicked West who are responsible for Eritrea’s current plight. In Kenyon’s account, both imperial nations were guilty of bad or atrocious acts, and the UN of foolish ones, but the real responsibility falls on Afwerki’s Maoist indoctrination, the man’s personal paranoia and delusions of destiny.

(The same goes, in spades, for the career of Paul Kagame who’s been at the heart of Rwandan Political Front (RPF) activity since the late 1980s and, like Afwerki, brought the paranoid style developed when the RPF was a small outfit hiding out in the mountains into office into general government when the RPF seized power in 1994, where this anxious guerrilla mindset has blossomed into intolerance of any dissent, arbitrary arrest, imprisonment and execution worthy of Stalin or North Korea. See ‘Do Not Disturb’, the breath-taking indictment of the Rwanda regime, by Michela Wrong.)


Credit

Dictatorland: The Men Who Stole Africa by Paul Kenyon was published in 2018 by Head of Zeus Ltd. References are to the 2018 Apollo paperback edition.

More Africa reviews

I Didn’t Do It For You: How The World Used and Abused A Small African Nation by Michela Wrong (2005)

Michela Wrong has had a long career as a journalist, working for Reuters, the BBC and the Financial Times, specialising in Africa. She came to the attention of the book-buying public with the publication in 2001 of ‘In the Footsteps of Mr. Kurtz: Living on the Brink of Disaster in Mobutu’s Congo’, which I read and reviewed.

This is the follow-up, a long and thorough (432 pages, including chronology, glossary, notes and index) account of the modern history of Eritrea, the country to the north of Ethiopia, which was bundled in with Ethiopia at independence and which fought a 30 year war to be free.

The milky haze of amnesia

I’m afraid Wrong alienated me right at the start, in her introduction, by claiming that the ex-colonial and imperial powers (Britain, Italy, America) have made a conscious effort to erase their involvement in such places in order to conceal all the wrongs we did around the world

History is written – or, more accurately, written out – by the conquerors. If Eritrea has been lost in the milky haze of amnesia, it surely cannot be unconnected to the fact that so many former masters and intervening powers – from Italy to Britain, the US to the Soviet Union, Israel and the United Nations, not forgetting, of course, Ethiopia, the most formidable occupier of them all – behaved so very badly there. Better to forget than to dwell on episodes which reveal the victors at their most racist and small-minded, cold-bloodedly manipulative or simply brutal beyond belief. To act so ruthlessly, yet emerge with so little to show for all the grim opportunism; well, which nation really wants to remember that? (Foreword, page xi)

This is an example of conspiracy theory – that everything that happens in the world is the result of dark and threatening conspiracies by shady forces in high places. It may sound trivial to highlight it so early in my review, but it is the conceptual basis of the entire book, and an accusation she returns to again and again and again: that there are so few histories of Eritrea because the imperial powers want to suppress the record of their behaviour there, to display ‘the conquerors’ lazy capacity for forgetfulness’ (p.xxii). I’m afraid I take issue with this for quite a few reasons.

1. First, I tend towards the cock-up theory of history. Obviously there are and have been countless actual conspiracies but, in geopolitics at any rate, events are more often the result of sheer incompetence. Read any of the accounts of the US invasion of Iraq or Britain’s military efforts in Iraq and Afghanistan. The idea that the establishments of three or four countries have placed an embargo on discussion of imperial interventions in Eritrea is obviously doubtful.

2. Second, there has been no embargo on accounts of Britain’s involvement in plenty of other and far worse colonial debacles: the concentration camps we set up during the Boer War or during the Mau Mau emergency in Kenya are common knowledge or, at least, there are loads of books and articles about them. Or take India. Nowadays there’s a growing pile of books about how we looted and ruined the subcontinent; Britain’s responsibility for the catastrophic partition featured in an episode of Dr Who, about as mainstream as you can get.

Books about the evils of the British Empire are pouring off the press, so these are hardly ‘forgotten’ or ‘erased’ subjects. Quite, the reverse, they’re extremely fashionable subjects – among angry students, at middle class dinner tables, in all the literary magazines here and in the States, among BBC and Channel 4 commissioning editors falling over themselves to show how woke, aware and anti-colonial they are.

Or check out the steady flow of anti-Empire, anti-slavery exhibitions (like the current installation in Tate’s Turbine Hall about empire and slavery, or Kara Walker’s installation in the same location about empire and slavery, or the upcoming exhibition at the Royal Academy about empire and slavery) and, in the bookshops the same twenty or so books about the crimes of the British Empire or the evils of the slave trade trotted out time after time. Anti-racist, anti-imperialist, anti-slavery sentiments are the received opinion of our time, one of its central ideological underpinnings.

Eight reasons why nobody’s much interested in Eritrean history

Wrong makes a big deal of the fact that so many Italians, Brits and Americans she spoke to during her research had no awareness of their nations’ involvements in Eritrean history, but this has at least seven possible explanations, all more plausible than it being due to some kind of conspiracy. Let’s consider just Britain:

1. British imperial history is huge

First, the history of the British Empire is a vast and complicated subject. Hardly anyone, even specialists, even professional historians, knows everything about every period of every colony which the British ruled at one point or another. Understandably, most people tend to only know about the big ones, probably starting with India, the slave trade, not least because this is being hammered home via every channel.

2. Second World War history is huge

Second, the British took over the running of Eritrea from the Italians when we fought and defeated them in the spring of 1941, in a campaign which was wedged in between the bigger, more important and better known Desert War in Libya. So the same principle applies as in the point about the empire as a whole, which is: even professional historians would probably struggle to remember every detail of every campaign in every theatre of the Second World War.

Here’s Wikipedia’s list of the main theatres and campaigns of the Second World War. Did you know them all?

It was only reading up the background to Evelyn Waugh’s ‘Sword of Honour’ trilogy that I realised there was a whole theatre of war in West Africa, which I’d never heard about before. Was this due to what Wrong calls the ‘milky haze of amnesia’ deriving from some government-wide conspiracy to forget? I doubt it. The reality is people only have so much time and attention to spare.

3. Limited attention of ordinary people

What percentage of the British population do you think gives a monkeys that Britain was, for ten years or so, in the late 1930s and through the Second World War, responsible for administering Eritrea? Weren’t we also running about 50 other countries at the time? I suspect my parents’ experience of being bombed during the Blitz and watching Battle of Britain dogfights over their London suburb were quite a bit more relevant to their lives than the details of British administration of the faraway Horn of Africa.

4. General historical awareness is dire, anyway

Most people don’t care about ‘history’, anyway. If you did a quick basic history quiz to the entire British population of 67 million, I wonder how many would pass. Auberon Waugh once joked that the fact that Henry VIII had six wives is probably the only fact from history which all Britons know, but I suspect this is way out of date. I live in the most multi-ethnic constituency in Britain. Most of the people I interact with (doctor, dentist, shopkeepers, postman, electrician, council leafblowers) were not born in this country and many of them barely speak English. I struggle to explain that I want to buy a stamp at the shop round the corner because they don’t speak English so don’t know what ‘stamp’ is until I point to a pack. I can’t believe many of the non-English-speaking people who now live here give much of a damn about the minutiae of Britain’s imperial history unless, of course, it’s the bit that affected their country.

5. Busy

And this is because people are busy. The difference between Wrong and me is that she thinks it’s of burning importance that the British ‘confront’ every aspect of their ‘colonial past’, whereas I take what I regard as the more realistic view, that a) most people don’t know b) most people don’t care c) most people are stressed just coping with the challenges of life.

By this I mean trying to find the money to pay their rent or mortgage, to buy food, to pay for the extras their kids need at school, or to find money to pay for their parents’ ruinously expensive social care. Most people are too busy and too stressed to care about what happened in a remote country in Africa 80 years ago. Most people are too busy and worried about the day-to-day to care about any of the big global issues that newspapers and magazines are always trying to scare us about, whether it’s the alleged impact of AI or the war in Ukraine or the threat from China. Most don’t know or care about ‘history’ and, I’d argue, they’re right to do so, and to live in the present.

I’m a bookish intellectual who’s interested in literature and history but I’ve had to learn the hard way (i.e. via my children and their friends) that there are lots of people who really aren’t. They’re not ‘erasing’ anything, they just live lives which don’t include much interest in history, be it imperialist, early modern, medieval or whatever. They’re too busy going to music festivals or shopping at Camden market, and sharing everything they do on TikTok and Instagram, getting on with their (exciting and interesting) lives, to know or care about the minutiae of the historical record of every single one of the hundred or so nations Britain had some kind of imperial involvement in.

Wrong thinks it’s some kind of conspiracy on the part of the British authorities not to give Eritrea a more prominent part in our history. I think it’s a realistic sense of perspective.

6. Commercial priorities

Books tend to be published, and documentaries commissioned, if the editors think there is a commercially viable audience for them. Last time I visited the Imperial War Museum I spent some time in the bookshop chatting to the manager because I was struck by the very, very narrow range of subjects they stocked books about. There were entire bookcases about the First and Second World War, a big section about the Holocaust, one about Women in War, and that was about it. I couldn’t even find a single book about Northern Ireland. Northern Ireland, for God’s sake! When I quizzed him, the bookshop manager explained that they’re a commercial operation and need to maximise their revenue, and so only stock books on the subjects people want to buy.

Living in a commercial/consumer capitalist society as we do, maybe the lack of awareness, books and articles about the modern history of Eritrea is not due to a government conspiracy to suppress it but simply because it is a niche subject which interests hardly anyone, and so – there’s no money in it.

7. News agendas

When this book was published (in 2005) the population of Eritrea was 2.8 million i.e. it was one of the smallest countries in the world. Britain’s involvement in Eritrea was a tiny subset of the enormous, world-encompassing commitments of the Second World War, and one among many, many imperial entanglements which lingered on after the end of the war, of which India and Palestine were the headliners.

Even now, the current conflicts between Eritrea, Tigray and Ethiopia barely reach the news because they are, in fact, minor conflicts, they are far away, they have been going on for decades with no particularly dramatic changes to report on and, crucially, no signs of a conclusion – so they just never make the news agenda. Why would they, when Russia is threatening to start world war three?

8. Predictable

And I suppose there’s an eighth reason which is that, for anybody who is interested in modern history, it is utterly predictable that today’s historians or historical commentators will take a feminist, anti-racist, anti-imperial line. Nothing could be more predictable than a modern historian ‘revealing’ the racist repressive truth about British imperial behaviour. This is the stock, standard modern attitude. To reveal that European imperial behaviour in Africa was ‘racist and small-minded, cold-bloodedly manipulative or simply brutal beyond belief’ is the opposite of news – it is the utterly predictable compliance with modern ideology, as expressed through all available channels of print, TV, social media, films and documentaries.

So, those are my eight reasons for not buying into the central premise of Michela Wrong’s book which is that there has been some kind of conspiracy of silence among the ex-imperial powers, that they have deliberately let the history of their involvement in Eritrea sink into ‘the milky haze of amnesia’ in order to conceal from a public eager for every scrap of information about Italy, Britain and America’s involvement in one of the world’s smallest countries.

Presumable origin of the book

Wrong first visited Eritrea in 1996 in order to do a country profile for the Financial Times. She was surprised to discover that there was very little published about the place. She saw an opportunity. She approached her publisher, who agreed there was an opportunity to fill a gap and sell to the kind of niche audience which is interested in the history of tiny African countries. Obviously she would be building on the success of her first book to extend her brand.

But, to make the book more marketable it would have to incorporate several features: 1) elements of touristic travelogue, passages dwelling on, for example, Asmara’s surprising Art Deco heritage or the vintage railway that snakes up into the high plateau of the interior, the kind of thing that appears in ‘Train Journeys of The World’-type TV documentaries. Tick.

Second way to sex it up would be to adopt the modern woke, progressive, anti-imperial ideology so much in vogue, and make sure to criticise all the western powers for their racism, sexism, massacres and exploitation. Tick.

And so we’ve ended up with the book we have. It is a history of Eritrea in relatively modern times i.e. since the Italians began annexing it in the 1890s, up to the time of writing in about 2004, written in a superior, judgemental, often sarcastic and sneering tone, regularly facetious and dismissive about every action of the colonial powers, hugely reluctant to point out that the relevant African powers (i.e. Ethiopia) were ten times worse than anything the imperialists did.

I’m not saying Wrong is wrong to point out that the Italians were racist exploiters who carried out appalling, semi-genocidal massacres and installed apartheid-style laws; or that the British, to their shame, maintained many of Italy’s racist discriminatory laws and practices while dismantling and carting off much of the country’s infrastructure; or that the UN screwed up big time when it assigned Eritrea to be part of Ethiopia against the wishes of its people; or that the Americans should have done more to foster statehood and encourage Eritrean independence when they used the place as a listening post during the Cold War.

I’m sure all her facts are completely correct and they certainly build up into a damning portrait of how successive western powers abused a small African nation. No, what put me off the book was a) Wrong’s assumption that the lack of knowledge about Eritrea was the result of some kind of cover-up among the imperial powers, and b) her tone of sneering, sarcastic superiority over everyone that came before her. Her snarky asides about this or that imperial administrator or British general quickly become very tiresome.

It is possible to write history in a plain factual way and let the facts speak for themselves. Nobody writes a history of the Holocaust full of sneering asides that the Nazis were ‘racist’ and ‘discriminatory’ – ‘Hitler, in another typically racist speech…’. You don’t need to say something so obvious. The facts speak for themselves. Constantly poking the reader in the ribs with sarcastic asides about the awful colonialists gets really boring.

Travel writing

Wrong strikes a note of travel writer-style indulgence right from the start of her book. The opening pages give a lyrical description of what you see as you fly over the desert and come into land at Eritrea’s main airport. From her text you can tell she regards flying from one African capital to another, jetting round the world, as an everyday activity. It isn’t though, is it, not for most people, only for a privileged kind of international reporter.

She then goes on to explain that Eritrea’s capital, Asmara, has one of the finest collections of Art Deco buildings anywhere in the world. In other words, the opening of her book reads just like a Sunday supplement feature or upscale travel magazine article. Although she will go on to get everso cross about Eritrea’s agonies, the opening of the book strikes a note of pampered, first world tourism which lingers on, which sets a tone of leisured touristic privilege. I know it’s unintended but that’s how it reads.

Anti-western bias

Like lots of posh people who have enjoyed the most privileged upbringing Britain has to offer and then become rebels and radicals against their own heritage, Wrong is quick to criticise her own country and very slow to criticise all the other bad players in the story.

In particular, she downplays the elephant in the room which is that most of Eritrea’s woes stem from its 30-year-long war to be independent of Ethiopia, the imperialist nation to its south. She downplays the extent to which this was two African nations, led by black African leaders, who insisted on fighting a ruinous 30-year war in which millions of civilians died… and then started up another war in 1998, conflicts which devastated their economies so that, as usual, they needed extensive food aid to be supplied by…guess who?.. the evil West.

Gaps and absences

Imperial benefits, after all

There’s a particular moment in the text which brought me up short. In the chapter describing the machinations of various UN commissions trying to decide whether to grant Eritrea its independence or bundle it in with Ethiopia (Chapter 7, ‘What do the baboons want?’), Wrong describes the experiences of several commissioners who toured the two countries and immediately saw that Eritrea was light years ahead of Ethiopia: Ethiopia was a backward, almost primitive country ruled by a medieval court whereas Eritrea had industry and education and a viable economy which were established by the Italians. And the British had given Eritrea an independent press, trade unions and freedom of religion (p.171).

Hang on hang on hang on. Back up a moment. Wrong has dedicated entire chapters to excoriating Italian and British administrators for their racism, their exploitation of the natives, Italian massacres and British hypocrisy. Entire chapters. And now, here, in a brief throwaway remark, she concedes that the Italians also gave the country a modern infrastructure, harbours and railway while the British introduced modern political reforms, freedom of the press and religion, and that these, combined, meant Eritrea was head and shoulders more advanced than the decrepit empire to its south.

When I read this I realised that this really is a very biased account. It reminded me of Jeffrey Massons’s extended diatribe against therapy. Nothing Wrong says is wrong, and she has obviously done piles of research, especially about the Italian period, and added to scholarly knowledge. But she is only telling part of the story, the part which suits her pursuit of unremitting criticism of the West.

And she is glossing over the fact that the Italians, and the British, did quite a lot of good for the people of Eritrea. This doesn’t fit Wrong’s thesis, or her tone of modern enlightened superiority to the old male, misogynist, racist imperial administrators, and so she barely mentions it in her book. At a stroke I realised that this is an unreliable and deeply biased account.

Magazine feature rather than history

Same sort of thing happens with chapter 10, ‘Blow jobs, bugging and beer’. You can see from the title the kind of larky, sarky attitude Wrong takes to her subject matter. Dry, scholarly and authoritative her book is not.

The blowjobs chapter describes, in surprising detail, the lifestyle of the young Americans who staffed the set of radio listening posts America established in the Eritrean plateau in the 1950s and 60s. The plateau is 1.5 miles high in some places and this means big radio receivers could receive with pinprick accuracy radio broadcasts from all across the Soviet Union, Middle East and rest of Africa. The signals received and decoded at what came to be called Kagnew Station played a key role in America’s Cold War intelligence efforts.

As her larky chapter title suggests, Wrong focuses her chapter almost entirely around interviews she carried out with ageing Yanks who were young 20-somethings during the station’s heyday in the late 60s. One old boy described it as like the movie ‘Animal House’ and Wrong proceeds to go into great detail about the Americans’ drinking and sexual exploits, especially with prostitutes at local bars. She sinks to a kind of magazine feature-style level of sweeping, superficial cultural generalisation:

This was the 1960s, after all, the decade of free love, the Rolling Stones and LSD, the time of Jack Kerouac, Jimi Hendrix and Hunter Thompson. (p.223)

This is typical of a lot of the easy, throwaway references Wrong makes, the kind of sweeping and often superficial generalisations which undermine her diatribes against the British and Italian empires.

Anyway, we learn more than we need to about service men being ‘initiated in the delights of fellatio’ by Mama Kathy, the hotel in Massawa nicknamed ‘four floors of whores’, about a woman called Rosie Big Tits (or RBT) who would service any man or group of men who paid, about the disgusting behaviour of the gang who called themselves The Gross Guys (pages 225 to 226).

This is all good knockabout stuff, and you can see how it came about when Wrong explains that she got in touch with the surviving members of The Gross Guys via their website, and then was given more names and contacts, and so it snowballed into what is effectively a diverting magazine article. She includes photos, including a corker of no fewer than seven GIs bending over and exposing their bums at a place they referred to as Moon River Bridge.

I have several comments on this. 1) Interwoven into the chapter are facts and stats about the amount of money the US government gave Haile Selassie in order to lease this land, money the Emperor mostly spent on building up the largest army in Africa instead of investing in infrastructure, agriculture and industry, with the result that he ended up having loads of shiny airplanes which could fly over provinces of starving peasants. So there is ‘serious’ content among the blowjobs.

Nonetheless 2) the blowjob chapter crystallises your feeling that this book is not really a history of Eritrea, but more a series of magazine-style chapters about colourful topics or individuals (such as the chapter about the Italian administrator Martini and the English activist Sylvia Pankhurst), which don’t quite gel into a coherent narrative.

3) Most serious is the feeling that this approach of writing about glossy, magazine, feature-style subjects – interviews with badly behaved Yanks or Sylvia Pankhurst’s son – distracts her, and the narrative, from giving a basic, reliable account of the facts.

It’s only after the chapter about blow jobs and drinking games that we discover, almost in passing, that the same period, the late 1960s, saw the rise and rise of the Eritrean Liberation Front (ELF) which waged a steadily mounting campaign of attacks against centre of Ethiopian power e.g. police stations. And that the Ethiopian police and army, in response, embarked on a savage campaign to quell the insurgents / guerrillas / freedom fighters in the time-old fashion of massacring entire villages thought to be supporting them, gathering all the men into the local church and setting it on fire, raping all the women, killing all their livestock, burning all their crops, the usual stuff.

For me, this is the important stuff I’d like to know more about, not the ‘four floors of whores’ popular with American GIs.

Religious division

And it was round about here that I became aware of another massive gap in Wrong’s account, which is a full explanation of Eritrea’s ethnic and in particular religious diversity. Apparently, the low-lying coastal area, and the main port, Massawa, was and is mostly Muslim in make-up, with mosques etc, whereas the plateau, and the capital, Asmara, are mostly Christian, churches etc.

Wrong’s account for some reason underplays and barely mentions either religion or ethnicity whereas, in the countries I’ve been reading about recently (Iraq, Afghanistan, Syria, Sudan, Rwanda, Congo), ethnic and religious divides are absolutely crucial to understanding their histories and, especially, their civil wars.

She only mentions very briefly, in passing, that it was ethnic difference which led to there being two Eritrean independence militias, the ELF and the ELPF. It was only from Wikipedia that I gathered the former was more Arab and Muslim, the latter more Christian or secular, and socialist. She nowhere explains the ideological or tactical differences between them. She nowhere names their leaders, gives histories of the movements or any manifestos or programs they published. All this Wrong herself has consigned to the ‘milky haze of amnesia’. Is she involved in an imperialist conspiracy to suppress the truth, I wonder? Aha. Thought so. It’s all an elaborate front.

Similarly, when the ELPF eventually eclipse the ELF to emerge as the main Eritrean independence militia, Wrong doesn’t explain how or why. Her description of this presumably important moment in rebel politics is described thus:

The EPLF, which emerged as the only viable rebel movement after a final clash with the ELF, built its society on defeat. (p.283)

That’s your lot. A bit more explanation and analysis would have been useful, don’t you think?

Key learnings

Each chapter focuses on a particular period of Eritrea’s modern (post-1890) history and Wrong often does this by looking in detail at key individuals who she investigates (if dead) or interviews (if living) in considerable detail.

Ferdinando Martini

Thus the early period of Italian colonisation is examined through the figure of Ferdinando Martini, governor of Eritrea from 1897 to 1907, who made heroic activities to modernise the country even as he endorsed Italy’s fundamentally racist laws. Wrong draws heavily on his 1920 literary masterpiece about his years as governor, ‘Il Diario Eritre’ which, of course, I’d never heard of before. Maybe Wrong thinks that almost all foreign literature has been sunk in ‘the milky haze of amnesia’ whereas I take the practical view that most publishers find most foreign publications commercially unviable and so not worth translating or publishing.

It was, apparently, Martini who gave the country its name, deriving it from the ancient Greek name for the Red Sea, Erythra Thalassa, based on the adjective ‘erythros’ meaning ‘red’.

It was Martini who commissioned the Massawa to Asmara train line, a heroic feat of engineering from the coast up into the steep central plateau, which Wrong describes in fascinating details and wasn’t completed during his time as governor.

Italian emigration

The Italian government hoped to export its ‘surplus population’ i.e. the rural poor from the South, to its African colonies but Wrong shows how this never panned out. Only about 1% of the Italian population travelled to its colonies compared to a whopping 40% who emigrated to America, creating one of America’s largest ethnic communities.

The Battle of Keren

Wrong’s account of the British defeat of the Italians in Eritrea focuses on a gritty description of the awful Battle of Keren, in March 1941, where British troops had to assault a steep escarpment of bare jagged rocks against well dug-in Italian (and native) troops, in relentless heat, with much loss of life. Once in control the British embarked on a scandalous policy of asset stripping and selling off huge amounts of the infrastructure which the Italians had so expensively and laboriously installed, including factories, schools, hospitals, post facilities and even railways tracks and sleepers.

Sylvia Pankhurst

Surprisingly, one of the most vocal critics of this shameful policy was Sylvia Pankhurst, daughter of the redoubtable Emmeline Pankhurst, the leading suffragette. Sylvia fell in love with Ethiopia and ran a high-profile campaign against Mussolini’s brutal invasion of 1936, demanding the British government intervene. After the war, her relentless pestering of her political contacts and the Foreign Office earned her the gratitude of the emperor Haile Selassie himself. Wrong estimates that the British stole, sold off, or shipped to her full colonies (Kenya, Uganda) getting on for £2 billion of assets (p.136). When she died, in 1960, aged 78, she was given a state funeral and buried in Addis Ababa cathedral. A lot of the material comes via her son, Richard Pankhurst, who was raised in Ethiopia, founder of the Institute of Ethiopian Studies at Addis Ababa University, and who Wrong meets and interviews on several occasions.

John Spencer

Meetings with Spencer, an American who was international legal adviser to Haile Selassie. In the early 1950s the UN was worried (among many other pressing issues) with the future of Eritrea. There were three options: full independence; full integration into Ethiopia; federal status within Ethiopia. There were strong views on all sides. Independent commentators wondered whether Eritrea could ever be an economically viable state (good question since, 73 years later, it is still one of the poorest countries on earth). Ethiopians wanted complete assimilation in order to give them access to the Red Sea. As a canny, aggressive American lawyer, Spencer lobbied hard for the Ethiopian option with the result that he is remembered with hatred to this day in Eritrea.

Kagnew Listening Station

The Americans discovered the high Eritrean plateau was uniquely located to receive clear radio signals from all over the hemisphere. From the 1950s onwards they paid Selassie a hefty premium, plus military and development aid, for the right to build what ended up being some 19 separate listening stations. Ethiopia became the largest recipient of American aid in Africa. Wrong tells its story via interviews with half a dozen of the thousands of GIs who staffed it in the 1960s. She (repeatedly) blames them for ignoring and erasing the reality of the violent insurgency and brutal repression spreading throughout Eritrea. What does she expect a bunch of 20-something GIs to have done? Launched an independent peace mission?

Wrong works through interviews with Melles Seyoum and Asmerom to tell the story of the widely supported EPLF insurgency against the Ethiopian occupying forces.

Keith Wauchope

Similarly, she tells the story of the brutal Ethiopian crackdown of the 1970s through the eyes of Keith Wauchope, deputy principal officer at Asmara’s US consulate from 1975 to 1977. In particular the ‘Red Terror’ when the Ethiopian revolutionaries, like the French revolutionaries, Russian revolutionaries and Chinese revolutionaries before them, moved to eliminate all political opponents and even fellow revolutionaries who deviated even slightly from the party line. By this stage I’ve realised that the book doesn’t proceed through events and analysis but by moving from interviewee to interviewee.

Nafka

Bombed out of their towns and villages by the Soviet-backed Ethiopian regime’s brutal campaign, the EPLF withdrew to the high Eritrean plateau where they holed up for a decade. they developed a cult of total war, total commitment, even down to the details of combat wear (basic, functional), disapproval of romantic relationships between fighters. They built an entire underground town including hospitals and schools, the famous Zero school, around the highland town of Nafka, to evade Ethiopia’s Russian-supplied MIG jets.

Wrong has met and interviewed a number of ex-fighters. It comes over very clearly that she venerates them as, she says, did most of the other western journalists who made their way to the EPLF’s remote bases and were impressed by their discipline and commitment, not least to education, holding seminars and workshops about Marxism, Maoism, the Irish struggle, the Palestinian struggle and so on. Western journalists called them ‘the barefoot guerrilla army’. She calls these western devotees True Believers.

But she is candid enough to admit that the hidden redoubts of Nafka also nursed a fanatical sense of commitment and rectitude. This was the Marxist practice of self criticism and self control, which would translate into the overbearing authoritarianism the Eritrean government displayed once it won independence in 1993.

‘Eritrea is a militarized authoritarian state that has not held a national election since independence from Ethiopia in 1993. The People’s Front for Democracy and Justice (PFDJ), headed by President Isaias Afwerki, is the sole political party. Arbitrary detention is commonplace, and citizens are required to perform national service, often for their entire working lives. The government shut down all independent media in 2001.’ (Freedom House website, 2023)

Ah, not so cool and fashionable once they actually come to power.

John Berakis

In line with the rest of the book, the chapter about the EPLF’s long years in its secret underground bases and highland redoubts, is told / brought to life via the biography of John Berakis, real name Tilahun (p.299) who was, improbably enough, both a committed fighter but also a qualified chef. Wrong interviews him and hears all about improbable banquets and feasts and recipes which he cooked up for the Fighters.

Asmara tank graveyard

The huge graveyard of tanks and other military equipment on the outskirts of Asmara is the peg for describing the astonishing amount of hardware the Soviet Union gave to Ethiopia: at one point in 1978 Soviet aircraft bearing equipment were arriving every 20 minutes in Ethiopia. By the end of the Soviets’ support for the Derg, the Russians had sent nearly $9 billion in military hardware into Ethiopia , about $5,400 for every man, woman and child in the population (p.314).

She makes the point that the USSR’s influence was on the rise. In 1975 Angola and Mozambique both became independent under Marxist governments. Across Africa one-party rule was ripe for Soviet influence. Ethiopia, Yemen and Somalia all had Marxist governments. It felt like the tide of history was flowing Russia’s way. By contrast America, had been weakened and humiliated by its defeat in Vietnam which had promptly turned communist, as did Laos and Cambodia.

Mengistu Haile Mariam

Wrong profiles Mengistu, his personal grievances for being looked down on by Ethiopia’s racial elite, his slavish devotion to the USSR (he declared Brezhnev was like a father to him), busts of Marx on the table, erected the first statue of Lenin anywhere in Africa etc.

But, of course, over the years Mengistu slowly morphed into another African strongman, driving in his open-topped Cadillac through the hovels of Addis Ababa, eliminating all possible opponents, living in a miasma of paranoia, surrounded by courtiers and flunkeys, turning into Haile Selassie. During the catastrophic famine of 1983/84 Ethiopia continued to spend a fortune on its military, which had ballooned to almost 500,000 troops, and spent $50 million on the tenth anniversary of the overthrow of Selassie and their coming to power. Over a million Ethiopians died in the famine.

Mikhail Gorbachev

The arrival of Gorbachev in 1985 worried all the communist regimes and his coterie slowly changed the tone of political commentary, starting to question the huge amount of aid the USSR was giving to supposedly Marxist African regimes. Even so between 1987 and 1991 Moscow still sent Addis $2.9 billion in weaponry (p.327).

Yevgeny Sokurov

Wrong appears to have interviewed quite a few Russian diplomats and military men. Former major Yevgeny Sokurov has some savagely candid words about the USSR’s entire African policy:

‘Helping Mengistu, that arrogant monkey, was pointless…In Moscow there was a pathological desire to support these thieving, savage, African dictatorships. It was a waste of time.’ (quoted p.340)

Anatoly Adamashin

A really profound comment is made by Anatoly Adamashin, deputy foreign minister under Mikhail Gorbachev, who points out that the Cold War led both America and the USSR and the African countries themselves to believe they were engaged in a historic struggle between reactionary capitalism and revolutionary communism, but it was never really that: it was always wars between ethnically-based factions, or ambitious individuals, simply for power.

As with Mobutu (Zaire) or Mugabe (Zimbabwe) or Jonas Savimbi (Mozambique) or Eduardo dos Passos (Angola) or here, with Mengistu in Ethiopia, when the Cold War evaporated it revealed that most of those conflicts had been the crudest struggles to achieve and maintain power.

It’s such a powerful view because it comes from a former Soviet official i.e. not from what Wrong regards as the racist imperialist West.

Mengistu flees

As the EPLF closed in on the capital, Mengistu took a plane to Zimbabwe, where he was granted asylum by another bogus Marxist dictator, Robert Mugabe, given a farm (probably confiscated from the ghastly white colonists) and lived an allegedly pampered life for decades. During his rule over a million Ethiopians died in the famine, and over 500,000 in the wars and/or the Red Terror, or the forced relocation of millions of peasants which, of course, led to famine and starvation.

The Organisation of African Unity

Wrong delivers an entertainingly withering verdict on the Organisation of African Unity:

One of the most cynicism-inducing of events: the summit of the Organisation of African Unity (OAU), that yearly get-together where insincere handshakes were exchanged, 29-year-old coup leaders got their first chance to play the international statesman, and the patriarchs of African politics politely glossed over the rigged elections, financial scandals and bloody atrocities perpetrated by their peers across the table. (p.357)

Even better, she describes it as ‘a complacent club of sclerotic dictators and psychopathic warlords’ (p.358).

Eritrean independence

In 1993 the population voted for independence and Eritrea became an independent country with its own political system, flag, army and so on. Five years of reconstruction and hundreds of thousands of exiles returned home. When war broke out again, Wrong characteristically doesn’t blame it on the new Ethiopian or Eritrean governments, the parties that actually went to war, but on the wicked imperialists:

The national character traits forged during a century of colonial and superpower exploitation were about to blow up in Eritrea’s face. (p.361)

It’s because of our legacy, apparently, that the Eritreans and Ethiopians went back to war, bombing and napalming and strafing each other’s citizens, killing 80,000 in the 2 years of war, 1998 to 2000. Two of the poorest countries in the world spent tens of millions of dollars trying to bomb each other into submission. Surely the leaders of those two countries have to shoulder at least some of the responsibility themselves?

The result of this second war was impoverishment for Eritrea which was rightly or wrongly seen as the main aggressor. Foreign investment dried up. Ethiopia imposed a trade blockade.

Afwerki Isaias

The man who rose to become secretary general of the ELPF, and then president of independent Eritrea in 1993. The trouble is that, 30 years later, he is still president, in the time-honoured African tradition. To quote Wikipedia:

Isaias has been the chairman of Eritrea’s sole legal political party, the People’s Front for Democracy and Justice. As Eritrea has never had a functioning constitution, no elections, no legislature and no published budget, Isaias has been the sole power in the country, controlling its judiciary and military for over 30 years. Hence, scholars and historians have long considered him to be a dictator, described his regime as totalitarian, by way of forced conscription. The United Nations and Amnesty International cited him for human rights violations. In 2022, Reporters Without Borders ranked Eritrea, under the government of Isaias, second-to-last out of 180 countries in its Press Freedom Index, only scoring higher than North Korea.

Tens of thousands have fled one of the most repressive regimes in the world and the jaundiced reader is inclined to say: you fought for independence; you made huge sacrifices for independence; you won independence; at which point you handed all your rights over to a psychopathic dictator. You had the choice. You had the power. Don’t blame Italy. Don’t blame Britain. Don’t blame America. Blame yourselves.

Paul Collier’s view

Compare and contrast Wrong’s fleering, sarcastic, anti-western tone with Paul Collier’s discussion of Eritrea. Collier is an eminent development economist who is concerned to improve the lives of people in Africa here and now. He gives short shrift to third world rebel movements. In very stark contrast to Wrong’s 400 pages of grievance and complaint against the West, Collier’s account of Eritrea’s plight is brisk and no-nonsense:

The best organised diaspora movement of all was the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front. The diaspora financed the war for thirty years and in 1992 they won. Eritrea is now an independent country. But did the war really achieve a liberation of the Eritrean people? In September 2001, after an unnecessary international war with Ethiopia, half the Eritrean cabinet wrote to the president, Isaias Afwerki, asking him to think again about his autocratic style of government. He thought about it and imprisoned them all. He then instituted mass conscription of Eritrean youth. Ethiopia demobilised, but not Eritrea. Eritrean youth may be in the army as much to protect the president from protest as to protect the country from Ethiopia. Many young Eritreans have left the country…Was such a liberation really worth thirty years of civil war?
(The Bottom Billion by Paul Collier, 2008 Oxford University Press paperback edition, page 23)

Or compare Wrong with the chapter describing the horrific punishments, prisons and reign of terror run by Afwerki, in Paul Kenyon’s 2018 book, ‘Dictatorland’. The horror of Afwerki’s rule is glossed over in Wrong’s account because of her relentless concern to blame the West for everything. These two other accounts provide a necessary balance, or just simple reminder that sometime African nations’ dire plights are less to do with colonial oppression 80 years ago, and more the result of gross mismanagement and terrible leadership in the much more recent past.

Eritrea timeline

16th century – Ottoman Empire extends its control over the Red Sea/Ethiopian/Eritrean coast.

1800s – The Ottoman Turks establish an imperial garrison at Massawa on the Red Sea coast.

1869 – An Italian priest buys the Red Sea port of Assab for Italy from the local sultan.

1870 – Italy becomes a unified nation.

1885 – The British rulers of Egypt help Italian forces capture the Red Sea port of Massawa. This was to prevent the French getting their hands on it.

1887 to 1911 – Italians construct the Massawa to Asmara railway.

1890 – Italy proclaims the colony of Eritrea.

1894 – revolt of the previously loyal chief, Bahta Hagos, crushed.

1896 – 1 March, Italian army trounced by the Emperor Menelik at the Battle of Adwa; the borders of Eritrea are agreed.

1912 – After defeating Ottoman forces Italy seizes the two provinces of Tripolitania and Cyrenaica, which it joins under the name Libya (a division which reopened after the ousting of Colonel Gaddafi in 2011, and last to this day).

1915 – Italy is persuaded by France and Britain to join their side in the First World War, with the promise of Trieste, southern Tyrol, northern Dalmatia and expansion of her territories in Africa

1922 – Mussolini seizes power, campaigning on many grievances one of which is the Allies never gave Italy the empire they promised

1930 – coronation of Ras Tafari as emperor of Ethiopia; he takes the regnal name Haile Selassie. The coronation is attended by Evelyn Waugh who writes a hilarious satirical account, which is also full of accurate details about the country, Remote People (1931). (As a side note Waugh’s book is extensively quoted in Giles Foden’s humorous account of First World War naval campaigns in Africa, ‘Mimi and Toutou Go Forth’.)

1935 – Mussolini launches a campaign to conquer Ethiopia. The Emperor Haile Selassie addresses the League of Nations to complain about the invasion, the use of poison gas and atrocities, but is ignored.

1936 – Italian troops enter Addis Ababa and Eritrea, Ethiopia and Somalia are all incorporated into ‘Italian East Africa’. Italy institutes apartheid-style race laws stipulating segregation. Evelyn Waugh was sent to cover the war and turned his despatches into a book, which includes a surprising amount of straight history of Ethiopia, Waugh In Abyssinia (1936).

1941 – During the Second World War, British advance from Sudan into Eritrea, fighting the brutal Battle of Keren (February to March 1941), which Wrong describes in detail, featuring a map.

1941 to 1942 – Britain crudely strips Eritrea of all the facilities the Italians had spent their 5-year-imperial rule installing, removing factories, ports, even railways sleepers and tracks, stripping the place clean. Britain also keeps in place many of Italy’s race laws.

1945 to 1952 Britain administers Eritrea, latterly as a United Nations trust territory.

1948 – The UN Four Powers Commission fails to agree the future of Eritrea.

1950s – former suffragette Sylvia Pankhurst devoted her final decade (she died in 1960) to denouncing the asset stripping of both Eritrea and Ethiopia carried out by the British.

1950 – A fractious UN commission settles on the idea of making Eritrea a federal component of Ethiopia, which is ratified by the General Assembly in 1952 in Resolution 390 A (V). The US signals that it favours the integrated model because it needs a quiescent Ethiopia as location for its huge radio listening station.

1950s – Ethiopia slowly but steadily undermines Eritrea’s identity: closing its one independent newspaper; having its sky-blue flag replaced by the Ethiopian one; having its languages of Tigrinya and Arabic replaced by Amharic; downgrading the Eritrean parliament, the Baito, to a rubber stamp for the Emperor’s decisions.

1953 – The US and Ethiopia sign a 25-year lease on the Kagnew radio listening station.

1958 – The Eritrean Liberation Front (ELF) is formed with a largely Muslim membership, looking to brothers in the Arab world.

The Eritrean war of Independence

1961 – First shots fired by ELF guerrillas, against a police station.

1962 – On 14 November 1962 members of the Baito were browbeaten and bribed into accepting full union and abolishing themselves i.e. Ethiopia annexed Eritrea without a shot being fired. A day of shame, a day of mourning, many of the Baito fled abroad. For the next few years the UN refused to acknowledge or reply to petitions, letters, legal requests from independence activists. The UN washed its hands and walked away.

1963 – Organisation of African Unity set up in Addis Ababa, largely at the Emperor’s initiative, and freezes African nations’ borders in place.

1967 – Full-scale guerrilla war. The Ethiopian army carries out numerous atrocities.

1970 – ELF splits and the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (EPLF) is formed, a secular socialist predominantly Christian highlanders. By the early 70s the liberation movements had secured some 95% of Eritrean territory.

1974 – Ethiopian Emperor Haile Selassie is overthrown in a slow-motion military coup (see ‘The Emperor: Downfall of an Autocrat’ by Polish journalist Ryszard Kapuściński). A military junta calling itself the Dergue or Derg comes to power. After squabbling (and killing) among themselves, a forceful lieutenant, Mengistu Haile Mariam, emerges as its leader and driving force. The Derg declares Ethiopia a socialist state committed to Marxism-Leninism. It rejects Selassie’s alliance with the US and turns instead to the Soviet Union.

1975 – In response to increasing insurgent attacks, the Ethiopian army goes on the rampage in Asmara, slaughtering up to 3,000 civilians, then destroys over 100 villages, killing, burning, raping wherever they go.

1977 to 1978 – Massive Soviet support enable Ethiopian forces to reverse the EPLF’s hard-won gains, thus ensuring the war would double in length, continuing for another 14 years.

1978 – Somalia launches a campaign to seize the Ogaden region of Ethiopia which is now fighting two wars, in the north and east. Soviet ships and artillery mow down EPLF fighters, airplanes carpet bomb Eritrean villages.

1982 – Ethiopia launches a massive military assault named the Red Star Campaign in an effort to crush the rebels, but itself suffers heavy casualties.

1985 – Mikhael Gorbachev comes to power in the Soviet Union.

1988 – March: Battle of Afabet is the turning point of the war, when the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front smashes an armoured convoy and then takes the town with barely a shot fired. Wrong describes the surreal way the Ethiopian commanders destroyed their own armoured column, once it had been trapped in a steep valley, burning hundreds of their own troops to death. Basil Davidson on the BBC described it as the equivalent of the Viet Minh’s historic victory over the French at Dien Bien Phu (p.337). It is described in an article by Peter Worthington.

1989 – May: senior Ethiopian generals try to stage a coup the day after Mengistu flew to East Germany to plea for more arms. The coup was foiled, several key generals, 27 other senior staff and some 3,500 soldiers were executed in the month that followed, further weakening the demoralised Ethiopian army. The Soviets, fed up with supplying Ethiopia (and their other African ‘allies’) huge amounts of munitions, withdraw their ‘special advisers’. The last one leaves in autumn 1989.

1990 – February: The EPLF takes Massawa in a daring land and speedboat operation.

1991 – Spring: the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front captures the entire coast and moves on the Eritrean capital, Asmara. In the last few years disaffected Amharas and Omoros in central and southern Ethiopia had formed the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPDRF). Running parallel to Eritrea’s history, the equally rebellious province of Tigray had spawned the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF) in 1975. Now the three groups worked together to topple Mengistu.

Eritrean independence

1993 – In a UN-supervised referendum, 99.8% of Eritreans vote for independence.

1994 – Having won independence, the EPLF reconstituted itself as the People’s Front for Democracy and Justice (PFDJ) and went onto establish one of the most autocratic, dictatorial regimes in the world.

1998 to 2000 – Eritrean-Ethiopian border clashes turn into a full-scale war which leaves some 70,000 people dead.

2001 – September: Eritrea’s president, Isaias Afwerki, closes the national press and arrests a group of opposition leaders who had called on him to implement a democratic constitution and hold elections.

END OF WRONG’S NARRATIVE

That’s as far as Wrong’s narrative covers. What follows is from the internet. There are loads of websites providing timelines.

2007 – Eritrea pulls out of regional body IGAD (Intergovernmental Authority on Development) as IGAD member states back Ethiopian intervention in Somalia.

2008 June – Fighting breaks out between Djiboutian and Eritrean troops in the disputed Ras Doumeira border area. At least nine Djiboutian soldiers killed. The US condemns Eritrea, but Eritrea denies launching an attack.

2009 December – The UN imposes sanctions on Eritrea for its alleged support for Islamist insurgents in Somalia.

2010 June – Eritrea and Djibouti agree to resolve their border dispute peacefully.

2014 June – The UN Human Rights Council says about 6% of the population has fled the country due to repression and poverty.

2016 July – The UN Human Rights Council calls on the African Union to investigate Eritrean leaders for alleged crimes against humanity.

2017 July – UNESCO adds Asmara to its list of World Heritage sites, describing it as a well-preserved example of a colonial planned city.

Peace with Ethiopia

2018 July – Ethiopia and Eritrea end their state of war after Ethiopian diplomatic overtures.

2018 November – The UN Security Council ends nine years of sanctions on Eritrea, which had been imposed over allegations of support for al-Shabab jihadists in Somalia.


Credit

I Didn’t Do It For You: How The World Used and Abused A Small African Nation by Michela Wrong was published in 2005 by Fourth Estate. References are to the 2005 Harper Perennial paperback edition.

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The Emperor: Downfall of an Autocrat by Ryszard Kapuściński (1978)

‘Dear friend, of course I remember. Wasn’t it just yesterday? Yesterday, but a century ago. In this city, but on a planet that is now far away. How all these things get confused: times, places, the world broken in pieces, not to be glued back together. Only the memory…’
(T.K.-B., a former courtier in the palace of the Emperor Haile Selassie, quoted on page 12 of The Emperor)

In September 1974 the very long-serving emperor of Ethiopia, Haile Selassie, whose reign had started in 1930, was overthrown by junior officers in his own army in a military coup. Soon afterwards intrepid Polish foreign correspondent Ryszard Kapuściński travelled to Ethiopia to interview members of the emperor’s court and eye-witnesses to these stirring events. The result is another of his relatively short (164 pages) but beautifully written, semi-literary accounts, which mixes historic events and journalism with philosophical reflections. His narrative pays lots of attentions to the quirks of Selassie’s court but also aspires to the timeless depiction of human nature.

The key and central fact is that over half of the text is not Kapuściński as such, but the direct speech of the people he interviews. It’s a sequence of short, page-long, first-hand testimonies from people who worked at the emperor’s court. Since a Marxist military coup has just taken place, some of these people are in hiding, most of them are laying low, and so Kapuściński describes the process of tracking them down; more accurately, working through contacts and recommendations.

In the evenings I listened to those who had known the Emperor’s court. Once they had been people of the Palace or had enjoyed the right of admission there. Not many of them remained. Some had perished, shot by the firing squad. Some had escaped the country; others had been locked in the dungeons beneath the Palace, cast down from the chambers to the cellars. Some were hiding in the mountains or living disguised as monks in cloisters. Everyone was trying to survive in their own way. (Opening paragraph, page 4)

The former palace officials Kapuściński tracks down beg him not to include names or even the slightest physical descriptions, to make them as anonymous as possible, lest his text is used to incriminate, convict and possibly execute more of them. Which explains why he refer to them simply by initials. Thus, after a page or two of explanation in Kapuściński’s own voice, we go straight into a series of testimonies and statements by people identified only as F, L.C., Y.M., T.K-B, A.M-M, G.S-D, T.L. and so on.

Here’s the first interview snippet in the book in its entirety. It demonstrates the use of an initial. It’s a reminiscence of a Palace official and typical of the quirky, ancient ceremonial which was (apparently) enforced at Selassie’s court. It’s typical of the gently mocking humour he shows throughout. It’s typical in the way it seems pregnant with meaning, hinting at a world larger and wider than the specific anecdote. In this ability to pack great charge of meaning in a small space it reminds me of the mind-bending essays of Jorge Luis Borges. In fact (having read half the book) the tone reminds me of the short, pregnant parables of Kafka, for example the Great Wall of China.

And, finally, it demonstrates how all the speakers’ voices are very uniform; whatever the quirks of their speech or the idiosyncrasies of the Amharic or Oromo (the two most common languages used in Ethiopia), all the voices come out sounding like Kapuściński, fluent, understated, wryly humorous:

It was a small dog, a Japanese breed. His name was Lulu. He was allowed to sleep in the Emperor’s great bed. During various ceremonies, he would run away from the Emperor’s lap and pee on dignitaries’ shoes. The august gentlemen were not allowed to flinch or make the slightest gesture when they felt their feet getting wet. I had to walk among the dignitaries and wipe the urine from their shoes with a satin cloth. This was my job for ten years. (p.5)

You can’t avoid the feeling that the original testimony was probably longer and more scrappy than that. Most people talking are diffuse and unfocused or hesitant and inarticulate. In Kapuściński’s hands, they all come out sounding the same, mellifluous and clear, calm and reflective.

The short book is divided into three parts:

  1. The Throne – focusing on protocol at Haile Selassie’s imperial court.
  2. It’s Coming, It’s Coming – focuses on the attempted coup led by Germame Neway, his brother and colleagues, in December 1960, and its long-term and destructive consequences.
  3. The Collapse – the ultimate downfall of Selassie, the slow removal of dignitaries and courtiers by the revolutionary Derg, until the big Palace is empty except for the Emperor and one valet, living an eerie dream existence.

The text concludes with two short newspaper articles on the Emperor’s last few years of life, which show that even after he was overthrown and imprisoned, Selassie still believed himself to be the true leader of Ethiopia.

Part 1. The Throne

Testimonials

The Emperor was small and frail. He didn’t eat much and didn’t drink. He woke early and resented the time lost to sleep.

He was illiterate and had reports brought to him by word of mouth. By the same token he never signed anything. It meant he could change his mind, was free of evidence.

His decisions were recorded by the Minister of the Pen who often had to bend close to his mouth to hear ‘his scant and foggy mutterings’ (p.8). He had to interpret them, which meant that if decisions were wrong or harsh, it was the Minister who got the blame.

The Emperor took a morning walk accompanied by Solomon Kedir, head of the Palace spies, who briefed him on what had been learned overnight, about conversations and alliances. The Emperor walked to his zoo where he threw meat to the lions. Kedir is replaced by the Minister of Commerce, Makonen Habte-Wald, who has his own network of spies; and then supervisor of the political police, Asha Walde-Mikael. All these security chiefs jostle for eminence and are petrified of not reporting something one of the others does, in case he then falls under suspicion in the ‘stale air of hatred and fear’ which permeates the palace (p.11).

The Emperor was driven from his Palace to the Old Palace of the Emperor Menelik in one of his 27 cars. Throngs of petitioners pressed forward. Being poor and illiterate they went into debt to pay clerks to write down their grievances. The petitions were collected by officials.

Teferra Gebrewold

Kapuściński first visited Addis Ababa in May 1963 (60 years ago!) for a gathering of presidents of newly independent African nations who were founding the Organisation of African Unity. He finds it still a muddy, overgrown village, and quotes a passage from Evelyn Waugh’s classic account of his visit to Abyssinia to watch the coronation of the young emperor in 1930 to show how little has changed.

It was attending the grand inaugural feast and other events that Kapuściński first met the master of ceremonies, Teferra Gebrewold. They became friends. On all his subsequent visits to Addis Kapuściński contacted Gebrewold. Thus it was, 11 years later, after the coup, that Kapuściński looked up his old friend and announced his plan, of tracking down and interviewing former Palace officials.

He was surprised, but he agreed to take it on himself. Our surreptitious expeditions began. We were a couple of collectors out to recover pictures doomed to destruction: we wanted to make an exhibition of the old art of ruling. (p.23)

And so it is that Gebrewold helps Kapuściński track down 20 or more courtiers from the old Palace and acts as interpreter for him.

Kapuściński’s narrative

The Amharic worldview is pessimistic and sad, Amharas trust no-one, especially foreigners.

After the ‘revolution’ Ethiopian society became even more paranoid. Everyone suspected conspiracies or counter-revolutionary activity. As a society it’s always venerated guns. They were easy to buy. At night there would be shots and firefights; in the mornings bodies lining the streets. Kapuściński wonders where so much ‘stubbornness, hatred and aggression come from’. My answer is, they’re human beings, and that’s what we’re like.

Everyone is subject to fetasha or searches, at checkpoints everywhere in the city, at the start and end of bus journeys and mid-way, in stairs, in hallways, in shops, an explosion of intrusive searching.

More testimonials

A footman explains the importance of opening a door to the Emperor at just precisely the right moment.

The Hour of Assignments is from 9 to 10am. The Emperor was tiny and short. When he sat on grand thrones his legs dangled in mid-air. Therefore there was an official titled His Most Virtuous Highness’s Pillow Bearer who, for 26 years, had just the right pillow, just the right size and shape and colour, to hand so that as his Highness seated himself, he could slip the pillow under the dangling feet to maintain a sense of dignity.

The Emperor encouraged factions, conspiracies, disagreements, endless gossip. It allowed him to rise above it all and ensure nobody could come anywhere close. There were three main coteries: the aristocrats; the bureaucrats and the ‘personal people’ i.e. educated commoners the Emperor plucked from the provinces, appointed to high office, to act as a check on the never-ending conspiracies of the aristocrats. They owed the Emperor their position and thus gave 100% allegiance.

To some extent the Emperor actually preferred bad ministers. Then he shone. All reforms, all kindly gestures, were then attributed to High Highness alone.

A Kafkaesque passage on how, once you have been given an assignment, your head can move in only two directions: bowing low to the Emperor, or rising higher than your own subordinates. An official tells Kapuściński how a person’s entire presence changed once they’re promoted. Henceforward they can only move in a stately dignified way. They cannot turn the head but must turn the whole body. Their expression ceases to be lively and expressive but settles into a fixed expression of dignity. They cultivate an air of knowledge, suddenly knowing people, and things, that ordinary mortals don’t; and so on.

Regularly officials were expelled from the Palace: either to some remote province or out of Imperial service altogether. At which point, they revert back into lively engaging citizens like you or me.

Kafkaesque passage about the fight for the Emperor’s ear i.e. power didn’t accompany rank, as such, but access.

The Emperor’s bag keeper remembers the regular occasions when His Majesty threw small change to assembled crowds of beggars below an official platform.

Between 10 and 11am was the Hour of the Cashbox when his Majesty, assisted by his Treasurer, Aba Hanna Jema, paid debts and handed out rewards. He was always strapped for cash.

Majesty and dignity is created by the humility and service of the people. Therefore great effort went ahead of any visit by His Majesty to one of the provinces. Thus this official says the Marxist revolutionaries cited all kinds of examples of imperial extravagance, such as having a fully functional palace built in the desert of the Ogaden, with beds and bathrooms and flunkeys and so on, which he only ever visited once. But, says the official, they don’t understand the requirements of Monarchy. Dignity must be maintained at all times, at any price. This is the ‘Higher Reason’ of monarchy.

The comedy of the Palace; when the Emperor was in residence, thronged with officials, ministers, and petitioners; when he left for the provinces, suddenly empty, like a disused stage set, goats grazing on the lawns, the master of ceremonies hanging out in local bars. Then the Emperor returned and zing! everything back to decorum and dignity.

The Emperor personally signed off on any expenditure over ten dollars. Petitioners formed a line and each one whispered his requirements. The Emperor listened then whispered instructions to his Treasurer, who reached into the purse held by the purse bearer, took a sum, put it in an envelope, handed it to the petitioner who bowed and moved away backwards, never turning his back on His Highness. But the treasurer always gave short measure, less than was asked for and so was widely hated. When the Marxist revolutionaries executed him only the Emperor wept (p.44).

Giving money and offices to his senior people, to the aristocrats, to his rivals, and the threat of taking them away again, an endless economy of promising, giving, threatening, and taking, that’s how a monarch keeps their throne.

One official’s sole task was to come before the Emperor and bow to signify the hour i.e. it was 9 or 10 or 11 o’clock.

From 11am to noon was the Hour of the Ministers. These men were kept in a state of continual high tension rivalry, loitering around the Palace on the off-chance of meeting his Majesty and putting their case. They were all bitter rivals. Selassie saw them one by one and listened to their complaints and filed the knowledge away. He didn’t value effectiveness. All he valued was loyalty.

Another official refers (during the interview with Kapuściński) to the Emperor’s own autobiography, ‘My Life and Ethiopia’s Progress’, in which he lists his many reforms after coming to power in 1930. Eye-grabbing ones include ending slavery (by 1950) and abolishing the cutting off of legs and hands as punishment. He imported the first printing presses, introduced electricity (in the Palace, then selected other buildings). He abolished forced labour and imported the first cars. (According to Wikipedia, Ethiopia had between two and four million slaves in the early 20th century, out of a total population of about eleven million.)

He approved sending the children of aristocrats abroad to study. But slowly a trickle turned into a steady stream, and these graduates from Europe or America and were appalled by the poverty and medieval culture of Ethiopia. That’s when the trouble started.

From noon till 1pm was the Hour of the Supreme Court of Final Appeal. An official placed the black, floor-length cloak of justice on His Majesty’s shoulders and the Emperor stood for an hour listening to court cases and passing judgement. He promoted understanding that he was directly descended from the great and wise King Solomon in the Bible.

At one o’clock the Emperor concluded his morning’s duties and left the Old Palace to proceed to the Anniversary Palace for lunch.

Part 2. It’s Coming, It’s Coming

This 40-page section focuses on the attempted coup led by Germame Neway on December 13, 1960, and its repercussions. Given the subsequent, calamitous history of Ethiopia, does anyone care? No. Instead, impishness and a taste for Kafkaesque absurdity keep creeping in.

For example, an official tells him about the parallel system of spies and snitches put in place by an eccentric official, the Minister of Trade Makonen Habte-Wald but this is only a pretext for a Borgesian meditation on old-fashioned filing systems and the paradox that, the more loyal a person was and the fatter they became on the lavish rewards of loyalty, the thinner their file; whereas those who worked themselves hard, sweated and grew thin working against the regime, their files grew correspondingly fatter.

And a peg for more prose poetry:

Day and night he reaped and winnowed his information, sleeping little, wearing himself out until he looked like a shadow. He was a penetrating man but he penetrated quietly, like a mole, without theatricality, without rodomontade, grey, sour, hidden in the dusk, himself like the dusk. (p.63)

I don’t think anybody speaks like this. This is writing, carefully composed and crafting. It’s this kind of thing which gave rise to the accusation I heard in the 1980s that Kapuściński wasn’t really a reporter, but a creative writer, inventing half the stuff he recorded. Maybe. Hardly matters, though, does it?

This Germame Neway was sent to run the province of Sidamo. After a while local officials diffidently attend court to complain that Newy is taking bribes and using it to build schools, that he is giving land to the landless. He is a communist!. So the Emperor reassigns him to the province of Jijiga.

Germame conceives a coup. He wins over his older brother who just happens to be the head of the Imperial Guard and the head of the Imperial police and then 20 or so other senior officers. The Emperor had a long-standing plan to make a state visit to Brazil. While he was away the plotters struck, arresting all the ministers they could and the royal family. But they missed some, who organised among themselves and informed the Emperor. They coup leaders got the Emperor’s 40-year-old weak and impressionable son to announce the coup on the radio. However almost nobody had a radio so no-one noticed.

The coup had been led by the royal Guard, well educated and paid. It was put down by the army, more loyal, less educated, and its generals, many of whom were blood relatives of His Majesty. The rebels try to win over students and intellectuals but the army enters Addis. Fighting in the streets, hundreds are killed. As the army closes in on the Palace the rebels carry out a massacre of 18 family members and officials closest to the Emperor.

The rebels withdraw to woods outside the city where mobs of furious peasants and proles armed with clubs and stakes and machetes corner and kill them. Much slaughter on both sides.

Germame escapes further into the bush where, surrounded, he shoots his closest associates, then himself. These humans and the way they run their affairs. Douglas Rogers writes in his book about Zimbabwe that we humans like to think of ourselves as rational beings. Do we? Speak for yourself. The evidence is overwhelmingly the other way.

The Palace needed a lot of cleaning up. Bloodstains everywhere, smashed windows, torn curtains. Selassie shot his lions for failing to defend his Palace. Left a permanent atmosphere of fear and paranoia. Slowly the Emperor purged his closest attendants. The coup leaders had been aristocrats. Now his majesty raised more commoners to high position, because then they would owe their wealth and place to him alone i.e. buying loyalty.

A passage with an existentialist flavour describing how, if you are selected for a post at the Palace, you become real, you exist, other people know and note and obey you, so you exist. But how, if you are dismissed, you become a ghost, a non-person, all the attributes of being-in-the-world evaporate. Being…or nothingness. Somehow, the life went out of the Palace. Conversation dwindled, more and more people felt it was pointless. The ‘sweet peace’ of the empire had been lost. Court life had lost its innocence.

The Emperor realised times were changing. He had set up a university which promptly became a hotbed of dissident students. So the Emperor moved to the Hour of Development and the International Hour to his daily schedule. He appointed more ordinary people.

A mania for ‘development’: new roads, new bridges, new schools, new hospitals, new machinery, the Emperor encouraged it all (to the scepticism of many of the old aristocratic families). There’s an old saying that the most dangerous time for an autocracy is when it tries to reform. Suddenly there’s an explosion of complaint and criticism. Down with feudalism! Down with the emperor! Students marched, the police opened fire.

In the later 60s the Emperor travelled abroad almost continuously. He said he was seeking aid money and investment to develop the country. Waggish journalists asked him if he was going to visit Ethiopia one day. Kapuściński’s informants tell him the Emperor sought solace abroad. He could trust foreign presidents and prime ministers. He could go to sleep confident that he’d wake up.

Both army and police demanded better (and more regular) pay. The notion of everyone waiting on the Emperor’s whim for donations had died. Previously armies had been levied, precisely as in a feudal system, and marched to battle plundering along the way. Selassie paid the army proper wages and regularised it.

In 1968 rebellion broke out in Gojam Province. It was provoked by an increase of taxes on peasants. This itself stemmed from the imperial treasury being empty. Ethiopia lacked industry or a bourgeoisie and Selassie found himself having to pay the police, the army and increasing numbers of bureaucrats involved in his push for modernisation and ‘development’. The army surrounded the province, then went in and brutally suppressed the rebellion. But it was a straw in the wind…

More and more students got just enough education to realise how backward their society was, a prey to:

whims of power, labyrinths of Palace politics, ambiguity, darkness that no-one could penetrate. (p.102)

Part 3. The Collapse

Kapuściński’s allegorical, Kafkaesque, almost dreamlike account of the build-up to the military coup of September 1974, when the emperor was deposed by the Derg, a non-ideological committee made up of military and police officers led by Aman Andom.

Kapuściński creates a fictional comic courtier who is deliberately obtuse. He cannot understand why the BBC journalist Jonathan Dimbleby, who had previously broadcast such nice things about the Emperor, now, in 1973, suddenly makes a film about the terrible famine in the north of the country, juxtaposing shots of thousands of bodies by the roadside with footage of Selassie and his courtiers stuffing their faces at banquets. The courtier can’t explain such treachery and ingratitude! In a confidential whisper he says it would do those greedy grasping peasants the power of good to lose a bit of weight, anyway; it would be in accordance with Amaharic religion which preaches fasting.

The West insisted on sending more journalists and aid organisations with food. They discovered there was enough food but the peasants were obliged to give it to the landowners who then sold it in the markets at exorbitant prices. The courtier doesn’t understand why the international community was up in arms about this and is disgusted by their ‘disloyalty’ to His Excellency.

A student rebellion starts, the pretext is a fashion show (!) but the issues were shame at the famine in the north, disgust at the Palace for doing everything it could to cover it up, and fear of the police and army, never slow to wade in and shoot student protesters dead. Nurses went on strike.

Meanwhile his Excellency went to tour the north coast where he made himself a Grand Admiral and awarded the speculators who’d been hoarding food in the famine-stricken north distinctions. When aid shipments arrived from the West, the authorities demanded that customs duties be paid, to fill the royal treasury, of course.

When Selassie returns to the capital the crowds obeise themselves but, the court official says, not with the heartfelt feeling of the olden days. He announces that the starving in the north don’t need food aid anyway; he, the Great Emperor, is concerned for them, and that – his especial care and concern – should be enough for them.

1974, the great year of the end of the Empire and end of the Palace. In February 1974 troops capture their own general. It emerges that the generals have been giving all the pay rises intended for the army to themselves. Then soldiers mutinied in the province of Sidano because their well had dried up and the officers wouldn’t let them use their well.

The government raised the price of petrol, triggering strikes by taxi drivers, bus drivers, school students and so on (only by reading Wikipedia did I know that the price hike was a consequence of the 1973 Arab-Israeli War and OPEC oil price rise). The Second Division of the army based in Tigray rebels, demanding pay rises. Then the air force rebelled. Then the Fourth Division rebelled and surrounded the capital. That evening Selassie promised pay rises and replaced the Prime Minister with a liberal.

What makes this a slyly comic and literary book is that all of this, the causes and then events of the coup, are viewed from within the mindset of court officials, who see it all as disloyalty and ingratitude to their Great Ruler and have no sense of the poverty, social tensions and injustices swirling around them. Thus the actual change in government is seen through the eyes of a minor flunky whose job it was to organise the mentions of senior officials in court publications so as to manage the endless rivalries and factions, quite oblivious of the fact that his world is coming to an end.

One of Kapuściński’s witnesses suggests that during the summer of discontent three factions develop in the Palace:

  • the Jailers, fierce and inflexible who counsel repression
  • the Talkers, who counsel meeting with the protesters and addressing their demands
  • the Floaters who bob like corks on the restless waves of unrest

Selassie attempted to calm rumour by holding a big ceremony at which he announced his successor, a 20-year-old grandson studying at Oxford. This offended the aristocracy, dignified old men who refused to serve under a whippersnapper, and two more factions appeared, backing two rival candidates (his daughter, Princess Tenene Work, and another grandson). In the middle of this navel-gazing jockeying, the army invaded Addis and arrested all the ministers in the government.

Then the Emperor announced his latest wheeze for ‘catching up’, for increasing ‘development’, which was to spend a fortune on building dams on the Nile. The army and the students criticised this as being yet another opportunity for corruption and all the money to end up in the pockets of ministers. The informant thinks the Emperor genuinely wanted to create a lasting legacy. But by this time he was having senile spells, sleeping badly, nodding off during the day, calling for ministers and generals who were dead.

In June the army and police announced a joint commission to investigate corruption among ministers and officials who started to be arrested and disappear into prisons, leading figures, princes and senior ministers, a new one every day. The joint committee is now calling itself the Derg (Amharic for ‘council’; maybe something like the Russian ‘soviet’) and meets with the Emperor. Palace officials are appalled since the Derg includes lowly corporals and sergeants (p.134).

The Emperor’s advisers come up with the bright idea of making a grand public celebration of His Majesty’s 82nd birthday, but in the event there are no crowds. He gives a quiet speech from a balcony to a small group of Palace officials standing in the rain in the courtyard below. When some see that he is crying, they realise it really is the end.

What no-one understands is the Emperor’s passivity. He just stops ruling. One faction lecture him at length and he nods. A different faction harangue him and he smiles. The Derg demand a big meeting and he sits smiling in silence. Maybe he thought he would float above it all and survive as a figurehead. Maybe he was senile. Maybe he was just very tired.

The Derg move slowly and arrest a minister at a time. There isn’t a violent attack, but a slow drip-drip of arrests which no-one can oppose because it is the army and the police doing it. Not all the army supports the Derg, they are split among themselves. Hence their softly-softly approach throughout the year, and always claiming to act in the Emperor’s name.

The Palace becomes a slum, packed with dignitaries hoping for safety by being close to the Emperor, sleeping on the floor, wrapping themselves in curtains. But each morning the army officers drove up and read out a list of those who were to be taken away to prison and the Emperor, in a senile dream, wandered among them all, dressed in full military costume, thanking and encouraging everyone, whether ministers, court officials or army officers. In all the Derg took some 500 dignitaries and courtiers off to prison.

Incidentally, Kapuściński has no sympathy for all these officials. He says the Palace was packed with ‘mediocrities’, ‘mean and servile’ (p.153), chosen by the Emperor precisely for these qualities and therefore completely unqualified to rule a modern state. All they knew was corruption and backstabbing. And all this stemmed from the negative character of the Emperor himself:

for what was the Imperial suite but a multiplication of the Emperor’s shadow…Only they could satisfy his vanity, his self-love, his passion for the stage and the mirror, for gestures and the pedestal. (p.154)

The Palace and imperial rule were thus hollowed out from inside, like termites eating the inside of a tree until it is completely hollow. Jonathan Dimbleby, whose documentary played a role in destabilising the regime, described is as ‘a creeping coup’.

Mengistu Haile-Mariam had already emerged as a force in the Derg but, since it never published a list of its members, their  make-up largely remained a mystery. Mengistu’s mother worked as a maid at the court. Therefore, he knew exactly who was who, how the whole place worked, and so how to dismantle it piece by piece. In the end, as in a fairy tale, there are just the Emperor and one servant left.

The most effective weapon of the Derg is written accounts of the corruption and greed of the court which they seize and publish. Day after day they come back and search the Palace and find more cash, hidden all over the place. They take it away to feed the starving. Beyond this, they demand the money stashed away in Swiss and British bank accounts, estimated as at least $100 million (p.158). Outside the Palace students and protesters march up and down chanting against the greed of the old regime.

When the soldiers had gone his valet led the Emperor to the chapel and read out loud from the Psalms and other consolatory parts of the Bible while His Excellency meditated, or maybe dozed.

In his own voice Kapuściński confesses himself disgusted by the grotesque greed of the ruling classes and the Emperor in particular, salting away hundreds of millions while his people died by hundreds of thousands. The Derg nationalised all the palaces, all his businesses, all his other property and belongings.

On 12 September 1974 soldiers arrived and read out the proclamation of his dethronement. The Emperor remarked that, ‘If the revolution is good for the people, then I am for the revolution’. Then they bade the Emperor follow them, made him get into a green Volkswagen. For a moment the Emperor demurred at the indignity but then did get in the back seat and was driven off to the barracks of the Fourth Division. The Palace was locked up.

Epilogue

Kapuściński’s text ends with two articles. The first is from Agence France Presse from 7 February 1975 which claimed that, 6 months later, the Emperor was alive and well, still getting up at dawn and following court protocol, then passing his days reading. Apparently, he still thought of himself as imperial ruler of his nation.

The second is barely a sentence long, a snippet from the Ethiopian Herald of 28 August 1978, announcing that the Emperor Haile Selassie had died of circulatory failure. In 1994 an Ethiopian court found three officers guilty of strangling Selassie. His body was found buried under a concrete slab.

Rastafarianism

Rastafarians give central importance to Haile Selassie; some regard him as the Second Coming of Jesus, others as a human prophet who recognised Jah (God)’s presence in every individual.

The word ‘rastafari’ derives from ‘Ras Tafari Makonnen’, Selassie’s pre-rule title. The term ‘Ras’ means a duke or prince in the Ethiopian language; ‘Tafari Makonnen’ was Selassie’s personal name, so together they mean something like Prince Tafari.

Kapuściński doesn’t mention any of this at all in his book. But I want to record the fact that when, after the fall of the Derg, Selassie’s remains were reinterred, some leading rastafarians attended the ceremony, notably Rita Marley – but that most Rastafari rejected the event and many refuse to this day to concede that Selassie – living embodiment of their faith – died at all. My point being that this magical thinking, dream thinking, surreal worldview, is the perfect epilogue to Kapuściński’s strange and dreamlike narrative.

The communist context

Kapuściński worked for most of his life under a communist regime. He worked for the Press Agency of the communist government of Poland from the early 1960s until Poland threw off Soviet rule in 1990.

The point is that this gives all his writings during that period a highly coded or ambiguous feeling. Thus when he describes how an official, once promoted by the Emperor, adopts a dignified, haughty and pompous manner, on the face of it he’s describing behaviour in a semi-medieval old African kingdom; but he can also be read as satirising the behaviour of jumped-up functionaries in the notoriously bureaucratic communist regimes.

This political ambiguity hovers over many passages and, back in the day, back when I first read them in the 1980s, gave them a delightful multi-levelled, allegorical feeling. For example, he has a passage saying that towards the end of Selassie’s rule, the police forces were expanded along with an army of informers. This forced ordinary people to develop a second language of codes and secrets to keep the real meaning of conversations from snoops.

In reality, a glance at Wikipedia shows that Ethiopia is home to not two but about 92 languages. Clearly, Kapuściński has drastically simplified the real-world situation and why? Because the idea of a society of informers where ordinary citizens develop a public language and a secret language is much more like a description of communist Poland (or East Germany or Romania) than of the much more ethnically and linguistically complex and diverse Ethiopian society.

Thoughts

As a factual history of modern Ethiopia this book is fun but useless. You’d learn more in five minutes by reading the Wikipedia article. But 1) as a vivid insight into the claustrophobic, medieval and completely out of touch world of the Imperial Palace it’s a masterpiece. Added to which 2) are the numerous teasing, thought-provoking, allegorical and philosophical asides which give the reader the pleasant impression that they are absorbing an extra level of wisdom and insight.

Americanisms

Most of the text is in a kind of plain, generic, translatorese such as you find in translations of Kafka and Italo Calvino. But just now and again a wild demotic American phrase jumps out of the text. It’s like studiously turning the dial on a shortwave radio, hearing the cricket commentary and nice bourgeois tones and then, suddenly, for a wild anarchic few seconds, coming across a loud jungle, grime or drill track:

  • get an eyeload of who’s really in charge (p.96)
  • getting the creeps (p.98)
  • a lot of grief (p.99)
  • jacking up the prices (p.115)

Population growth

As you know, I am a biological materialist, which means I begin any enquiry by establishing the material data about a place or situation, and base my analyses of social or cultural forces on a materialist, evolutionary basis. I don’t rely on culture. In my view culture is a very secondary phenomenon, an epiphenomenon produced by technological, economic and class realities.

In 1963, when Kapuściński first visited Ethiopia, its population was 23 million. In 1974 when the revolution took place, it was 31.5 million. In 1985, at the time of the Live Aid concerts, it was 40 million. Today, July 2023, it is over 120 million. It will never be a developed country because no society in human history has grown its economy at anything like that rate.

The mortarman

The book dates from the heyday of Magical realism, when whimsical surrealism was at a premium:

For many years I served as mortarman to His Most Extraordinary Highness. I used to set up the mortar near the place where the kindly monarch gave feasts for the poor, who craved food. As the banquet was ending, I would fire a series of projectiles. When they burst, these projectiles released a coloured cloud that slowly floated to the ground – coloured handkerchiefs bearing the likeness of the Emperor. The people crowded, pushing each other, stretching out their hands, everyone wanting to return home with a picture of His Highness that had miraculously dropped from the sky. (p.108)


Credit

The Emperor: Downfall of an Autocrat by Ryszard Kapuściński was published in Polish in 1978. The English translation by William R. Brand and Katarzyna Mroczkowska-Brand was published by Quartet books in 1983. All references are to the 1984 Picador paperback edition.

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