Books
BELT AND ROAD: A Chinese World Order
by Bruno Maçães. Penguin Viking, New York, 2019.STARTING as a blueprint for railway lines running through the Central Asian states that bridge Asia and Europe, the Belt and Road Initiative (BRI) has billowed into a grand strategy for China. President Xi Jinping apparently regards it as his most salient initiative and, in time, legacy. In the three years since its annunciation, the BRI has issued a profusion of jamborees and joint statements, memoranda of understanding and credit lines, project proposals and policy papers. All this has been tiring to track. Bruno Maçães’s book is therefore handy as well as timely.
An erstwhile minister in Portugal, Maçães now lives in Beijing. The decision to decamp from Lisbon to China seems to mirror his interest in ‘Eurasia’ – the subject of another book that he wrote a couple of years ago. He has since been active on the international policy and high punditry circuits. This also explains the breathless and often vacuous quality of this book. What might work in an 18 minute TED-style talk invariably becomes tedious when stretched out to 180 pages or more. Notwithstanding the thin gruel on offer, the book is useful as an up to date statement of the BRI as China conceives of it. But it tells us little about whether or why their best laid plans might work or not.
The Belt and Road, Maçães writes, should be visualized as ‘nine arrows crisscrossing Eurasia in all directions.’ It comprises six economic corridors on land and three sea routes. Eurasian trade in goods, he notes, is now touching USD 2 trillion a year – more than double the volume of transatlantic trade and considerably more than transpacific trade. The constructed – not to say fictitious – quality of these figures of ‘Eurasian’ trade are matched by his claims about their potential in the future. ‘This is all the more remarkable’, he claims, ‘as this is the axis of the world economy where physical and legal restrictions are most significant and therefore where the potential for growth is highest.’ The notion that ridding this huge swathe of ‘physical and legal restrictions’ – never spelt out in detail – would automatically lead to higher growth in the whole area is only credible if one is observing the ‘axis of the world economy’ from Mars. But grand strategists can’t be distracted by details.
What about the design itself? According to Maçães, connectivity projects are at the centre of the BRI. ‘The geographic space being transformed must be connected before it can start to grow areas of economic activity; industrial parks along infrastructure routes are slowly integrated to establish regional value chains and eventually support fully developed cities – culturally creative, internationally connected and technologically advanced.’ Connectivity, he helpfully adds, is not just or even mainly about roads or railways. What the Chinese are aiming at is nothing short of a ‘community of shared destiny in cyberspace.’ Elsewhere he writes that the best image of the BRI is ‘the cities being built up from scratch. These are what will change the physical and human landscape of the planet, creating new ways of life, new ideas, new adventures.’ The book is strewn with such profundities.
Maçães argues that China’s plans for the BRI are powered by economic and geopolitical imperatives. Indeed, in the wake of the global financial crisis of 2008, Beijing undertook the largest ever Keynesian stimulus plan. As public investment soared, China was soon staring at staggering excess capacity in several key industries – even as global demand remained soft. This led to a quest for markets and production facilities abroad. There was a larger economic – or ‘geo-economic’ – rationale at work. At the time, the United States was trying to conclude mega regional trade deals in Asia-Pacific and Europe, so cutting China out of the dynamic economic regions. These fell by the wayside with the advent of Donald Trump, but the latter’s trade war with China has reinforced the importance for Beijing of integrating ‘Eurasia’, or at least some chunks of it, under its leadership.
The BRI, Maçães claims, is nothing shy of a ‘Chinese plan to build a new world order replacing the US-led international system.’ It brings together several novel and significant developments: ‘China’s growing international clout, its need to reshape the international economic system in its image and the growing reactions and responses to the project.’ Maçães is evasive about whether this design will come to pass. Instead, he outlines four scenarios: China gradually integrates into the liberal world order; China supplants the United States as the centre of global power, leaving either the rest of the architecture intact or recasting it thoroughly; China and the United States coexist. These scenarios, however, sit uneasily with Maçães’s reading of the BRI. In the ultimate analysis, it is metaphysical. ‘The Belt and Road is by design’, he writes, ‘a project meant to encompass the whole world and the totality of human life. No other organized project or idea can rival it in this respect.’ No wonder he is reticent about its earthly prospects.
India has, of course, refused to join the BRI citing concerns about its sovereignty as well as transparency and sustainability of the projects. Maçães observes the BRI could constrain India’s economic prospects. ‘How will the Indian economy be able to move up into higher-value segments of global chains if it turns around and sees many of its fast-growing neighbours already incorporated into a China-led economic network? An enforced return to India’s period of economic autarchy haunts its future development.’ The question is an important one, but it cannot be answered if we assume – as Maçães does – that the BRI subsumes everything. India’s economic future hinges on many more choices than the decision to opt out of the Belt and Road.
Srinath Raghavan
Professor of International Relations and History, Ashoka University, Sonipat
THE RETURN OF MARCO POLO’S WORLD: War, Strategy, and American Interests in the Twenty-First Century by Robert D. Kaplan. Random House, New York, 2018.
THE reading of Robert D. Kaplan’s The Return of Marco Polo’s World is an undertaking in two parts. A collection of the author’s previously published essays, the first task involves reading the older writings in the context of the overarching landscape presented in the sweeping original, opening essay: we are witnessing the rise and return of a fluid, chaotic supercontinent, Eurasia, that is at once anchored by non-western imperial legacies and threatened by internal stresses within weakening states across this landmass. Kaplan positions the United States against this backdrop. The second task is an open-ended interfacing of Kaplan’s argumentation against ongoing geopolitical and geo-economic developments.
Two key contradictory effects sum up Kaplan’s latest undertaking of strategic thought, which serves as an intervention on Eurasia that is comparatively less linear than those offered by his contemporaries. First, globalization and technology – increasing interactions across the Indian Ocean, refugee flows reunifying the Mediterranean Basin, development of infrastructure connectivity such as under China’s Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), and the communication revolution – are both binding together and fragmenting this super-region. Even as these factors dilute borders, they are hardening geopolitical divides, both among and within states, by enabling the spread and intensification of differences and conflict. On the horizon, Kaplan sees cosmopolitanism crumbling in the face of ethnic pressures, rebellions against artificially constructed delimitations fostering multiple sovereignties, new forms of authoritarianism materializing in the face of a loss of central authority, and permeable regional conflicts that at their worst become ‘the clash of artificially reconstructed civilizations.’ In short, ‘globalization and the communications revolution have reinforced, rather than negated, geopolitics.’
It is in this context that the author advances the weakening of the (Westphalian) state even as the empire strikes back. Herein lies the second contradictory effect. Imperial traditions are informing the geopolitical strategies of ‘faded empires’ that are Turkey, Iran, Russia, and China; critically, the latter two form the lynchpins of this ‘Eurasian conflict system.’ But while such legacies inform the construction of this supercontinent, they are also what propel the continued fracturing of these states. ‘In the vast area between a cratering Levant and an internally troubled China, no state is improving its capacity to govern effectively. They are all either weakening or headed nowhere good’ (p. 28). China, for instance, is called ‘a crucible’. Internal stresses (particularly economic and ethnic tensions or those arising from authoritarianism), fuelled by globalization and technology, will weaken centralized control of these states even as they become increasingly nationalistic and aggressive beyond their borders. Fragility and chaos will therefore prevail.
The resultant map of Eurasia is reminiscent of medieval times. Kaplan uses the travels of an iconic explorer from the Middle Ages as a narrative framework to map the future contours of geopolitical flashpoints across Eurasia: Kurdistan, Central Asia, the Black Sea, Pakistan, and the Indian Ocean. The Silk Road on which Marco Polo traversed has today been revived as the BRI, thus bringing us full circle. What then is the US role in this ‘singular battle space’ that spans from Central Europe and the Adriatic to China, ‘a world in which territory still matters’? Kaplan locates his answer in Marco Polo’s return by sea: ‘Sea power is the compensatory answer… in the face of an infernally complex and intractable situation on land’ (p. 39). But this is by no means a mere matter of squaring Mahan with MacKinder. Kaplan refers to weightier concepts that continue to agitate US foreign policy thinking: national interest, great power responsibility, and principles of engagement. The way forward for the US, in Kaplan’s estimation, is one paved by caution and restraint.
It is here that Kaplan’s older essays, entries that stand on their individual merit, collectively contextualize Kaplan’s positioning of American power against the emerging ‘neomedieval map’ of Eurasia. Broadly classified under the categories ‘Strategy’, ‘War and its Costs’, ‘Thinkers’ and ‘Reflections’, the essays form an amalgamation of history, geography and international relations juxtaposed against real events, lived experiences and defining personalities in American foreign policy. They probe what the US stands for, what has defined its external engagement and how it must behave in a period of relative, but not absolute, decline. Interests are pitted against values; morality against limitations; individuals against forces of fate. Tellings of American misadventures, from Vietnam to Iraq and Afghanistan to Syria, reflect on the costs of intervention as well as the burden of land warfare and small wars. A vigorous defence of the actions/major works of three stalwarts who subscribe(d) to various shades of realism – Henry Kissinger, Samuel Huntington and John Mearsheimer – puts into relief the underlying potent forces of culture and geography, and how they translate into interpretations of responsible American power. It bears mentioning that even as Kaplan gives fresh lease to Huntington’s clash of civilizations thesis, on the question of the US-China face-off he leaves the reader with a question rather than an assessment: ‘Once violent hostilities begin, how do you end a war with Russia or China?’
These provocations on America’s response to a changing international order – in which Eurasia, Asia (and China) are taking centre stage – make compelling reading against contemporary developments. To name a few: The Trump presidency, China’s ‘new normal’, the rise of ‘middle powers’, the resurgence of authoritarianism, and the emerging Indo-Pacific construct. Consider Kaplan’s narrative on connectivity. It engenders both coherence and claustrophobia – even as roads and railways depreciate time and space, they are carriers of conflict – to the effect that it will leave ‘a much more ambiguous legacy.’ This can be juxtaposed against the competing connectivity visions on offer, particularly across the broader Indian Ocean region – the Eurasian rimland – that Kaplan deems pivotal to US strategic response in the 21st century.
As a whole, the collection is vigorous in style; rich in vision, observation and grasp of history. This is no neat summation of ideas, but a sprawling collection that nonetheless does not overextend. Even for those familiar with the prolific author’s writings, it is at least worth reading for its original, opening essay, penned in late 2016, or better yet with other publications that offer alternate frameworks and perspectives, such as Graham Allison’s Destined for War, Parag Khanna’s The Future is Asian, and Maçães’ The Dawn of Eurasia.
Ritika Passi
Fellow, Observer Research Foundation, Delhi
DICTATORS WITHOUT BORDERS: Power and Money in Central Asia by Alexander Cooley and John Heathershaw. Yale University Press, New Haven, 2017.
IN Dictators without Borders Alexander Cooley and John Heathershaw challenge the prevailing notion of the Central Asian region being perceived as an isolated territory. The authors argue that Central Asia is, in fact, deeply interconnected with the rest of the world within the framework of a vast financial and legal outsourcing network comprising of offshore bank accounts, foreign arbitration and tax havens. They go on to explain that the ruling elites in the Central Asian countries ‘use western financial, legal, and policing systems to both extend their power back home and to selectively access western institutions, status symbols and legal protections.’ Apart from the financial and legal aspects, the extraterritorial locations also serve as an arena for skirmishes between the ruling elites and their regional opposition. Elaborating on the ‘patterns of extraterritorial repression’, Cooley and Heathershaw note that the dictators often ‘pursue their opponents with an eye to efficiency across three phases, from warning and intimidation (stage one), to arrest and confiscation of property (stage two), to rendition, disappearance and attack, including assassination (stage three).’
The authors classify what they refer to as the three ‘myths’ surrounding the perception of Central Asia in general: Central Asia as a distant heartland of Asia; the failure of liberalization in the region; and the notion of its ‘localism’ which suggests that Central Asia’s political predicament has local or cultural causes. Elaborating on the first myth, the authors argue that the region comes across as distant owing to the information gap that has arisen due to the relative ignorance and lack of public and media interest towards the region. With regard to the second myth, the authors suggest that ‘a closer look at the economies of Central Asia reveals that their problems are not those of the complete failure of liberalization, but rather its partial and selective adoption’ as a result of the concurrence of authoritarianism and capitalism.
In other words, the countries are plagued by ‘a lack of democratic reform but considerable convergence with the global market economy, enabling transnational networks of kleptocracy and capital flight.’ This aspect reflects the global nature of Central Asia’s predicament since the elites as well as their cronies are deeply integrated into global business and finance markets, therefore extending their economic and political presence far beyond their borders. This argument also supports the authors’ observation regarding the third myth of ‘localism’ in Central Asia. Elaborating on the crucial role of global factors at play, Cooley and Heathershaw note that the western systems ‘provide the opportunities and vehicles for large-scale corruption’ in Central Asia but ‘commentators often struggle to see’ (or admit) that the internal and external affairs of the region are closely associated.
Thus, at the heart of the book’s theme is the rampant corruption in the Central Asian states which transcends its landlocked territory. Beginning from the infamous Panama paper leak, the authors cite various instances to expose the corrupt elites and their personal dealings abroad at the expense of the impoverished state of public affairs in their country. The authors go beyond the argument of corruption within the region by also uncovering the role of western corporations functioning in a ‘practically ethics free zone of wealth management and luxury property’ whilst their governments remain complacent.
Cooley and Heathershaw also touch upon the new offshore silk roads comprising of the US-led New Silk Road and the more ambitious China-led Belt and Road Initiative, that are seen as promoting connectivity and the resultant global integration of the land-locked region. These initiatives, the authors warn, are likely to further rent seeking tendencies rather than bring actual gains for the local residents. As such, these connectivity projects ‘are likely to continue to involve playing many offshore games, whilst the touted gains will be afforded to the region’s kleptocrats, not their impoverished citizens.’
A topical study, the book is insightful and offers a fresh perspective to the study of politics in Central Asia. The four case studies of Kazakhstan, Tajikistan, Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan reflect the intensive research undertaken by the authors to bring out the global interconnections of Central Asia and uncover the role of western agencies in furthering the rampant corruption in the region. The book is detailed and offers ample information even for a casual reader. The appendixes are a must read for anyone who wishes to gain an in-depth knowledge of the region.
At the same time, even though the book offers a fresh perspective by highlighting the global connections of Central Asia, its major arguments are neither restricted to the region in question, nor something completely unknown in the public domain. As the Panama leak itself shows, the holding of offshore assets is not unique to the ruling elites of the authoritarian states alone. In addition, the authors often compare the (lack of) reforms in Central Asia with that of other post-Soviet states of Eastern Europe which witnessed comparatively greater engagement from the West, particularly the European Union. The authors seem to suggest that the Eastern European countries, unlike the Central Asian countries, were able to undergo successful reforms during the transition phase. They observe, ‘Central Asia and Eastern Europe experienced post-communist extrication and the new international environment as independent states in very different manners.
The Central Asian states were not transformed, as Eastern Europe was, by the forces of globalization and interactions with western states and international organizations.’ As a result, the ‘globalized transition’ in Central Asia, ‘unlike in Eastern Europe, has failed to produce states and polities that conform to the liberal-ideal type of marketised democracies.’ Although the premise is correct, this proposition comes across as a little far-fetched given that with the exception of the Baltics, the success of reforms in other Soviet successor states (western flank of the former Soviet Union) remains questionable. Nevertheless, Dictators without Borders makes for an interesting and engaging read as it deals at length with the often-overlooked region. With deep insights and details, the book serves as a valuable primer for the study of Central Asia.
Himani Pant
Independent Researcher, Eurasian Affairs, Delhi
DARK SHADOWS: Inside the Secret World of Kazakhstan by Joanna Lillis. I.B. Tauris, London and New York, 2019.
FOR a country that is almost the size of Europe, little is known about Kazakhstan. Joanna Lillis shines a light on the history and people of the nation in her book Dark Shadows: Inside the Secret World of Kazakhstan. The book is extensive in its scope, moving across the nation from the Aral Sea in the southwest to the nuclear testing grounds of Semipalatinsk in the northeastern part of Kazakhstan and from the formation of the Kazakh Khanate in 1465 to present day Kazakhstan. An ambitious undertaking, Dark Shadows covers the key issues that have shaped, and continue to shape, the Kazakhs.
Lillis divides the book into three sections. The first, ‘The Making of a Potentate’, analyses the rise of authoritarianism in Kazakhstan under its first President Nursultan Nazarbayev, who was previously the first secretary of Kazakhstan’s Community Party before the disintegration of the USSR. As the author notes, there is a whole generation of Kazakhs who have grown up never knowing another President but Nazarbayev (he stepped down in March 2019). In a sense, understanding Nazarbayev’s rise and his strong grip on the country’s politics is key to understanding contemporary Kazakhs-tan itself. However, the history of post-independent Kazakhstan is not limited to Nazarbayev’s story.
Tracing the nation’s slide into an authoritarian state, the author also recounts a litany of actors (and organizations) that fight against the government for the freedom of speech and the freedom to protest. Reading about those who pushed-back against Nazarbayev can both inspire readers and leave them in despair. When oil workers went on a strike protesting inadequate compensation in the town of Zhanaozen in December 2011, the violent crackdown on the protestors by the riot police landed many in the hospital, and some in the town’s morgue. For authoritarian Kazakh leaders who witnessed the Rose Revolution in Georgia in 2003 and Ukraine’s Orange Revolution in 2005, followed by the Arab Spring, dissent is only a step away from a revolution and hence any opposition must be crushed. However, despite the heavy-handed tactics of the government, there exist people like Gulzhan Kamitovna, a journalist who ran one of the most outspoken publications in Kazakhstan, and Yevgeniy Zhovtis, one of Kazakhstan’s most prominent human rights campaigners. In Gulzhan and Yevgeniy’s stories, the readers get a glimpse of the indomitable spirit of the Kazakh people.
The second section in Dark Shadows, ‘Identity Crisis’, explores the history ‘that turned Kazakhstan into a melting pot of peoples.’ Given the author’s background as a journalist, not a historian, the chapters in this section focus as much on the lived experiences of the people as on crucial historical milestones. For instance, the anti-Soviet uprising in the winter of 1986, considered to be the harbinger of Kazakh independence, is told through the tale of the 21 year old Kayrat Ryskulbekov who was sentenced to death for his role in fomenting the rebellion.
While each chapter in this section begins with a historical episode, the author links the past to the present in a seamless manner. For instance, in chapter 10, ‘Kingdom of the Kazakhs’, the author narrates the history of Kazakhstan’s nationhood, which finds its basis in the foundation of the Kazakh Khanate in 1465. As Lillis navigates this centuries-old history, she connects it to the imperatives that underpin present-day Kazakhstan’s celebrations of statehood. In 2015, when Kazakhstan celebrated the 550th anniversary of the Kazakh Khanate, it was as much about celebrating the nation state as it was about countering Vladamir Putin, the President of Russia, who had stated that Kazakhstan had no history. While the two nations have shared a close relationship through history, reviving the tale of the Kazakh Khanate was a useful exercise as Kazakhs watched Putin annex parts of Ukraine. Just as the history of the Kazakh Khanate is linked to Kazakhstan’s defiance against an expansionist Russia in 2015, the author connects other historical incidents to present-day grievances in the second section.
The concluding section of the book is ‘Stories from the Steppe’ where Lillis aims to highlight the stories of Kazakhs who are left coping with the lingering fallout of ill-planned Soviet industrial and agricultural experiments. Some of the issues addressed in ‘Stories from the Steppe’ can indeed be traced back to Soviet errors, such as the repercussions of Soviet-era nuclear weapons testing for contemporary Kazakhstan. However, the same cannot be said of some of the other issues that the author has chosen to explore. For instance, in chapter 22, ‘The Curse of Corruption’, the author looks at how corruption at hospitals in Kazakhstan infected at least 150 children with HIV in 2006. While this is an important moment in the nation’s history, the corruption woes that beleaguer Kazakhstan are not traced to the Soviet Union. Save for this minor quibble, each chapter in this section presents the reader with a fascinating snapshot of what Kazakhstan has had to, and continues to, grapple with.
Sketching out and analyzing the history of an entire nation and its people is no easy task. Nevertheless, Joanna Lillis does a masterful job, taking the reader through the history and landscape of Kazakhstan. Due to its comparatively modest aims, the first section is where the author’s ability to narrate and inform the reader is most heightened. Though the author explores a number of issues that affect Kazakhstan, her narrative style ensures that the book is easily accessible, even for those who are not familiar with the nation. For a nation that houses a significant proportion of the world’s natural resources and sits at the heart of Central Asia, Kazakhstan has the potential to play a greater role on the global stage. Joanna Lillis’ Dark Shadows is a great starting point to for those seeking to better comprehend the extraordinary nation and its people.
Shreyas Shende
Research Assistant, Carnegie India
AFRICA IN WORLD AFFAIRS: Politics of Imperialism, the Cold War and Globalisation by Rajen Harshe. Routledge, Abingdon, Oxon, 2019.
EVEN high quality Indian scholarship on Africa is rarely suffused with admiration, appreciation and yes, affection for that continent and its peoples. This is one such text. Here the vision of a changing Africa is filtered through the prism of imperialism in its different avatars – direct colonial rule, indirect domination (European neocolonialism) and American imperialism from the Cold War to today’s era of globalization. Imperialism is defined as an ‘asymmetrical relationship of interdependence between materially advanced and backward societies.’ The obvious culprits are Britain, France, Portugal (the main colonizers) and the US. The USSR was an ambiguous ‘empire’ exercising political-military control over Eastern Europe, but where the balance of economic benefits favoured the latter. Cold War USSR played a contradictory role in Africa – supporting national liberation struggles and manipulating reluctant governments for resources on the cheap and geo-political favours. Post-Cold War, Russia has been more preoccupied with controlling its ‘near abroad’ than with interventions in Africa.
The seven chapters flanked by an Introduction and Conclusion constitute the heart of this book. Africa is so huge that a selective eye is unavoidable. But fortunately more attention is given to relatively neglected Sub-Saharan Africa (SSA). There is a delightful chapter on African thought and thinkers. The author’s long-time familiarity with France no doubt is why Francophone Africa is given separate chapter treatment. The US as an imperialist power also gets separate chapter treatment as well as each of the three countries of South Africa, China, India, all often accused, with some justification says the author, of exhibiting sub-imperialist characteristics. The variant trajectories, past and present, of Portugal, Britain and France are insightfully presented.
Portugal, without the history of internal democratic struggles of the other two, made better use of slave and forced labour and was more repressive. It was the first to arrive as a non-capitalist mercantile power, and last to leave Africa. Britain (a stronger capitalist-industrial power) and France (a weaker one) started scrambling for territories in the late 19th century. Britain ruled more indirectly through local notables and chieftains, and with few exceptions independence was achieved with a peaceful transfer of power. France too saw mostly peaceful transitions (Algeria being a major exception) but ruled more directly while seeing its colonies as extensions of the metropolitan mainland. It was more willing to give citizenship to a section of ‘Frenchified’ African elites and this closer cultural-political connect meant that later Paris could exercise a relatively stronger neocolonial hold over former colonies. Portugal, however, faced armed national liberal movements that ultimately proved successful. Curiously unmentioned, however, is the aftermath – a section of army officers ironically radicalized by its ‘enemy’s’ struggles, triggered the 1974 fall of the Caetano dictatorship with the country coming closer to carrying out a socialist transformation than anywhere else in Europe.
Colonialism also meant psycho-cultural violence leading to cultural-intellectual resistance against Eurocentric values and political precepts. There arose Pan-Africanism, African socialism and African-ness more generally, as embodied in the work of Du Bois, Garvey, Padmore, Nkrumah, Nyerere and the negritude poets Cesaire and Senghor. Fanon was somewhat of an outlier seeing negritude and the ‘black nationalism’ it aligned with as a defensive mechanism, in itself unable to point a collectively transformative way forward. Race, however, had entered IR thinking and practice. Pan-Africanism secured institutional embodiment with the Organization of African States (1963) and its successor Africa Union (2002). From the beginning there were tensions – a radical wing aiming for formation of a United States of Africa (Nkrumah) or at least prior regional groupings (Nyerere); and a moderate wing (mostly Francophone states) insisting on the primacy of national sovereignty.
The OAU and AU followed a moderate path rarely succeeding in resolving inter-state strife partly because newly created state boundaries were obedient to the administrative legacy of colonial rule. African socialism receded to nullity but interestingly Ubuntu, an African concept elevating the role of community (‘I am because we are’) presumably characterizing lived reality in the continent, has enjoyed a revival in today’s postcolonial discourse aiming to promote a greater ‘epistemic cosmopolitanism’ in the social sciences so as to frame the pursuit of a more egalitarian and humane world order.
The chapter on South Africa indicts apartheid and its western supporters; the remarkable struggle of the ANC and Mandela duly registered. The relatively peaceful fall of apartheid, the author says, was made possible by the combination of resistance from below and a growing awareness by white South African elites and their western counterparts that preserving capitalism was more important than retaining institutionalized racism. This is an important insight but missing is any rumination about whether the fall of communism and its ideological-political threat may not have been an even greater spur to this dismantling. The ANC in power soon abandoned its socialistic Freedom Charter for the path of neoliberal economic development benefitting a rising black elite controlling a government more willing to expand its reach in southern Africa while serving as a gateway for foreign investors to do the same.
China and India are relatively new players with China way ahead. In 2016, China became the continent’s biggest trading partner – raw materials going one way, manufactures, aid and large-scale investments, the other. Chinese investors are mainly state enterprises with private ones in tow, whereas from India private transnationals lead the way though New Delhi now regularizes India-Africa summits and is more forthcoming in providing concessional credit, grants and student scholarships. Nonalignment and its shared sentiments are over. Both New Delhi and Beijing are politically pragmatic, care little about human rights issues, and see economics as the route to securing political-diplomatic support from African governments. To his immense credit the author insists on looking at matters from the African side which is why he is also disturbed by the asymmetry in these respective relationships.
This leaves us with the US. The author’s verdict is harsh but fair. The US was and is an imperialist power beginning to take SSA seriously in the ’60s because of the Cold War, but continuing to intervene thereafter for similar reasons – facilitating corporate greed for key minerals and maintaining geo-strategic dominance, now with China in mind. In 2008 a military command structure AFRICOM was set up to secure strategic vantage points, namely the Horn of Africa, sea lanes around the Cape and the Indo-Pacific. Where the author, critical though he is, gives a longer rope to the US is on the ‘Global War on Terror’ (GWOT). This in my view is basically a fraudulent posture enabling the use of much greater state terror and violence in the name of fighting equally reprehensible but much weaker non-state forms of terror and violence.
Today, US imperialism’s hardware comprises of ongoing nuclear and military preparations, geographically extended military-related bases, expanded alliance structures directed primarily against China and Russia. GWOT has now replaced the main Cold War ideological banner (software) for generating consent at home and abroad – ‘anti-communism in the name of democracy.’ Terrorism is a genuine problem but this cannot excuse the deliberately distorted, dishonest and hypocritical discourse around GWOT for the purposes of justifying unwarranted US and allied interventions while whitewashing their own brutalities. All said and done, this is a remarkable text which should be compulsory reading for students in the field and for the interested layperson.
Achin Vanaik
TNI Fellow and retired Professor, Delhi University
