Why Africa Is Finally Getting Attention

In recent months Africa, that most overlooked of continents, has been getting some attention from those of us in "The West." Liberia, the West African state colonized by former slaves and in recent decades beset with ruthless dictators and a devastating civil war was for a while a hot spot worthy of American intervention. America and Great Britain are gingerly trying to deal with the increasingly untenable situation in Zimbabwe, where megalomaniacal president-for-life Robert Mugabe manages to garner the support of the Southern African Development Community (SADC) leaders even as he pillages, destabilizes and malignly neglects his own country. Previously ignored Niger became a name rolling off of the tongues of Americans in the wake of revelations that President Bush's assertions about that country's involvement in enhancing Iraq's nuclear program had been false, even falsified.

And then there is AIDS in Southern Africa, ethnic and religious conflicts in Nigeria, and the attempts to bring about reconciliation in war-torn Congo. The problem, of course, is that these stories are almost universally negative. Rarely do we read about African successes, and even less rarely do they register. And yet . . .

Curtailing future acts of terrorism. Expanding our access to available oil. Protecting human rights. These are goals that cross the ideological spectrum. And there is one continent where we can do all of these things. That continent is Africa, perhaps the part of the globe that Americans most overlook, except to catch a glimpse of the latest disaster coming from its shores, like rubberneckers straining to see the gore after a highway accident.

The time is ripe for Americans to start getting to know Africa as more than the sum of its grisly events. Many experts believe that the United States will get 15-20 percent of its oil exports from West Africa in the next decade. Large parts of the continent are vulnerable to exploitation by radical fundamentalist terrorists, some of which already have a foothold on the continent. Whether we like it or not, American attention will focus increasingly on what many still patronizingly see as the Dark Continent, a seemingly mysterious and dangerous land of poverty and violence and malarial infestations. But America must act now. We cannot afford to sit aside and wait for Africa to open its doors to us, nor can we assume that those doors will open simply because we are the United States.

The United States needs to establish a clear engagement, on mutual terms, with responsible African leaders. It has to develop with those leaders workable policies to help develop - not exploit - Africa's vast natural resources, including oil, while also promoting industry and development that we have to realize may one day compete with American companies. We need to move toward eliminating the noxious subsidies that protect American agribusiness and undermine any hopes of African farmers to compete on a level playing field. This will require vision and planning and not a little political courage.

It is thus important for the United States, its leaders and its citizenry, to develop a more sophisticated understanding of this continent that is almost four times the size of the continental United States. The crisis-du-jour approach not only of policymakers but also of the media has fueled stereotypes and unintentionally has perpetuated misunderstanding. More important, it has served as a barrier to promoting our mutual interests. While it has not been demonstrated beyond a shadow of doubt that poverty breeds terrorism, it is a certain bet that desperation does. If we help perpetuate African desperation, we are sowing the seed for a generation of potential terrorists who can wreak untold damage not only in Africa, but also on the United States and our allies. If, however, we help alleviate such desperation, not only will we be doing the right thing for Africans, we will be doing the only wise thing for our own security.

In the past, the mantra of the realpolitik crowd, those who insist upon a clear self-interest before America gets involved in foreign affairs, has always been predictable: "What's in it for us?" But with the massive oil interests we have on Africa's Atlantic Coast and with the clear and present danger of terrorism a daily factor in American lives, a lack of demonstrable interests is no longer an acceptable cry. But beyond this, Africa, for all of its misery, for all of the demagoguery of some of its leaders, for all of the seemingly inscrutable violence, represents both hope and opportunity.

Supporters of the war in Iraq have claimed that one of the main reasons to support our actions was that we could bring democracy and justice, in short, a better life, to Iraq's people. For many of these proponents this justification was mere revisionism, a convenient fallback position when WMDs and links to Al Qaeda proved elusive. But at its essence, there was a kernel of truth in the minds of many of the war's proponents. They truly believed that for all of its flaws, the United States can do good and do well at the same time. This should be a foundation for our approach to Africa: Do good. And then, when possible, do well.

On initial inspection, there seems to be tremendous hostility about American actions and intentions in Africa today. Many Africans (Nelson Mandela comes to mind) condemned our incursion into Iraq and tied it to the long legacy of colonialism with which too many south of the Sahara are well accustomed. Whatever the merits of their arguments, their distrust is understandable, stemming as it does from a colonial and neo-colonial past that proved ruinous to much of the continent.

At the same time, beneath the fear and recriminations is also hope. If one listens to the African Street, ambivalent messages abound. Distrust and fear linger, to be sure, but not the sort of loathing that one finds in other parts of the world. The African street is probably kinder to the United States than the French street, even though the latter owes a whole lot more to America than the former. Africans want our help. They admire and respect what the United States represents. They also fear what the United States can mean to them. Africans are well aware of their vulnerability, and know that they cannot compete with the United States government, its military, or its industrial and economic might.

What many Africans desire, therefore, is a partnership. Not a partnership based on the premise of equality, but one based on respect. They want American know-how and the dollars that come with it to fight AIDS, for example, but they want an acknowledgment that on the ground, there might be feasible solutions that, while impractical or undesirable in Boston, may be necessary and proper in Bulawayo. They do not want policies foisted on them from those with an agenda based on American culture wars. Africans have enough wars of their own.

Africans want a solution to their dictators and kleptocrats, but in turn they fear that they will replace the known devil with an unknowable master. They want to be able to partner with the United States to gain from our resources and technology, to be able to produce for the marketplace while developing their own economies, and to be able to look to the United States as a kind and trusted ally, as the last best hope of man on earth rather than as a Laviathan able to crush the hopes of a people so accustomed to broken dreams.

The first step in garnering trust is to be trustworthy. This means fulfilling promises - of aid, of loan relief, of troop support, of protection from genocide. It means occasionally setting immediate self-interest or electoral politics aside for the sake of development. It means speaking with, not down to, those leaders who have the respect and legitimacy of their people.

If we want cooperation in accessing Africa's tremendous oil reserves, we need to be prepared to do so as partners. If we expect to be able to rely on African support in the war on terror, we need to convince Africans through our deeds as well as our words that human rights are truly our concern, and not merely a smokescreen for baser instincts. If we want to influence African politics for the better, we cannot allow that influence we have to be for the worse.