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Special Report
United States
and Africa:
Starting Points for a New Policy Framework
By
William Minter
africa.pdf
William Minter is the Senior
Research Fellow at the Africa Policy Information Center in Washington,
DC, and has authored and coauthored many books on Africa. This essay
expresses the author's personal views and does not necessarily reflect
the positions of APIC as an organization.
 
President Clintons 12-day trip to Africa in spring 1998 was
the most extensive ever by an American president. Boosters of the
trip inside the administration hoped that it would dramatically signal
a constructive U.S. engagement with the continenta new policy
for a new Africa. In the months before the trip, Assistant Secretary
of State for Africa Susan Rice laid out a new vision for Africa
and called for a new partnership with partners who listen
to one another, learn from one another, and compromise with one another. 1
Many critical observers, probably exaggerating the level
of U.S. interest in Africa that the trip represented, viewed Clintons
tour as an aggressive assertion of rivalry with Europe for economic
predominance in the continent. Cynics saw it as driven by White House
concerns to throw a symbolic bone to the African-American electorate
and to divert attention from the then-infant Lewinsky scandal.
U.S. policy toward Africa has long been plagued by marginalization
and pervasive negative stereotypes. To President Clintons credit,
the trip was shaped in large part by the need to address this crippling
policy context. Selection of five of the six countries on the tourGhana,
Uganda, South Africa, Botswana, and Senegalwas intended to highlight
the continents success stories. Rwanda was added at the insistence
of officials who recognized that it would be unconscionable to ignore
the failure of the international response to the 1994 genocide in
that country.
In speeches during the trip, President Clinton acknowledged
the damage to Africa from the slave trade, colonialism, and the cold
war, and he even apologized for the failure of his own administration
to respond to the Rwandan genocide, in which more than a half million
people were slaughtered. A symbolic visit to the slave depot at Goree
Island in Senegal underscored the roots of the U.S. connection to
Africa, and the presidential entourage was reported to be the most
racially diverse ever for a presidential trip.
Despite these encouraging signals, Clintons tour
also reflected fundamental problems with the administrations
policy. In keeping with the dominant policy climate in Washington,
the trip was characterized by pervasive promotion of free-market fundamentalism
as the solution to Africas economic woes. The message of U.S.
support for democracy was ambivalent and muffled by clear disarray
within the administration about what stance to take toward the military
dictatorship of Sani Abacha in Nigeria. The apology for international
failure to respond to the Rwandan genocide was accompanied by no coherent
policy or commitment for responding to violent conflicts in Congo
(Kinshasa), Algeria, Burundi, Sudan, Liberia, and elsewhere. And the
acknowledgment of historical responsibility both for the slave trade
and for cold war destruction was a momentary blip rather than the
beginning of a serious debate. In reaction to the flurry of U.S. commentators
who argued that the U.S. had nothing to apologize for, the theme vanished
from administration statements for the rest of the trip.
Events in the months following Clintons tour made
it clear that the new start would be slow to take off.
Despite the efforts of Africa-focused officials within the administration,
Africa quickly resumed its place near the bottom of the agendas of
the highest officialsand not only because of the presidents
growing domestic problems. The outbreak of the border war between
Eritrea and Ethiopia, the eruption of a new war in Congo (Kinshasa),
and the resumption of fighting in Angola had profound regional implications
but apparently caught the administration without contingency plans.
None led to more than a minute fraction of the high-level attention
given to the crises in the former Yugoslavia.
Meanwhile, Washingtons response to the terrorist
attack in August 1998 on U.S. embassies in Dar es Salaam and Nairobi
exposed the partnership theme as empty rhetoric. The instinctive
focus by U.S. officials on U.S. casualties, though they were far less
numerous than Kenyan and Tanzanian victims, provoked immediate resentment.
And the U.S. retaliatory strike on a pharmaceutical factory in Sudan
as well as a guerrilla training camp in Afghanistan was not only unilateral
but also almost certainly counterproductive to its stated aims of
reducing the terrorist threat. For instance, it undermined opponents
of the abusive fundamentalist regime in Sudan by allowing that regime
to present itself as a victim and thus gain international sympathy.
And the Clinton administration was eventually forced to concede that
the Khartoum factory had no tie to terrorists.
Those within the administration who were trying to get
top Cabinet members and their staff to focus on Africa did persist,
and their efforts bore fruit in the Conference on U.S.-Africa Partnership
in the 21st Century held in Washington in March 1999. Although some
early plans had projected a meeting confined to Washingtons
favorite reformers, the invitation list was broadened
at African insistence; cabinet-level representatives from 50 African
countries participated in the meeting with their U.S. counterparts.
At the conference, one could see the beginnings of more substantive
dialogue between U.S. and African officials.
In practice, however, Washingtons legacies of
neglect and of inappropriate policies toward Africa have remained
largely in place with the same overall guidelines. On the one hand,
there is promotion of doctrinaire free-market prescriptionsincluding
foreign trade and investment, production for export, elimination of
trade barriers, and privatization of state enterprisesas a panacea.
On the other hand, we see endorsement of democracy, human rights,
and conflict resolution, though implementation of this policy is primarily
by ad-hoc response to crises without sustained high-level attention.
This harsh judgment is admittedly a caricature of a
far more complex policy picture regarding specific issues and countries.
Those in the government dealing with Africa on a day-to-day basis,
many of whom are struggling to implement programs and policies that
do respond to specific African needs, will most likely see it as unfair.
As an overall assessment of results rather than intentions, however,
it is unfortunately more accurate than the lofty rhetoric accompanying
the presidents trip.
The failure, however, is not unique to the Clinton administrations
Africa policymakers. Though the Africa advocacy and progressive
foreign policy communities have been vocal on selected issues, and
at times effective, they have failed to build consensus around convincing
and coherent policy frameworks, have not adequately addressed the
complex issues at stake, and have emphasized criticism rather than
offering alternative perspectives to guide what should be done. Unlike
the period of clear-focused campaigns against colonialism and apartheid,
there is no clear overall framework being advanced collectively by
African states and nonstate movements.
This report does not claim to fill that gap. It is also
stronger on critique than on charting out a comprehensive alternative
policy framework. It does, however, offer starting points for such
a framework as well as suggested prerequisites for moving toward greater
clarity. Such a framework, if it is to be authentic and convincing,
must emerge from a sustained and systematic dialogue with a range
of diverse voices in the distinct regional contexts of the continent.
Such a dialogue is just beginning. As state-to-state and business-to-business
contacts accelerate, progressives must also ensure that their contributions
to the debate reflect real encounters with diverse African voices
and not just the assumptions we bring from other periods and political
arenas.
In the post-cold war world, the stated general goals
of U.S. foreign policy are, in fact, congruent with those of African
peoples. Salih Booker, a long-time Africa activist and leading spokesperson
on Africa at the Council on Foreign Relations, argues that it
is in the U.S. interest that, within each African region, as elsewhere
in the world, countries and peoples should be able to advance the
common goals of achieving security, democracy and development.2
When one asks how best to achieve those widely endorsed goals, however,
there is a veritable chasm between perspectives crafted purely in
the U.S. foreign policy arena and those rooted in African realities.
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