Abstract
Throughout works such as The Groundings with My Brothers (1969) and How Europe Underdeveloped Africa (1971), the late Walter Rodney galvanised liberation by awakening radical Pan-African consciousness. For Rodney, who was 38 when he was assassinated in Georgetown, Guyana, freedom is synonymous with expanding one’s mind. Thus, his works are written as educational tools to evoke decolonial enlightenment. Unsurprisingly, his form of education has been shunned and what he stood for has been attacked – as witnessed by the racist attacks that took place from the 1970s to the 1990s on the Bogle L’Ouverture bookshop in West London, renamed the ‘Walter Rodney Bookshop’ after Rodney’s assassination. 1 Since then, attacks on Black (or any) radical thought have persisted, evidenced by the current onslaught by the UK government and the New Right on Critical Race Theory (CRT), which we are told has no place in schools. Children are to be restricted from learning about Black and other ethnic minority communities – their history, current predicaments and possible liberation. Here stands a book that is written to educate and overturn an oppressive system, yet it is introduced in an educational climate that is terrified to overturn a leaf if it has the word ‘Black’ on it.
As a collection of unbound and hitherto neglected essays, Decolonial Marxism, which includes a foreword by the celebrated African novelist Ngũgĩ Wa Thiong’o, presents Rodney’s thoughts on liberation through different themes and theses, previously unknown to many. Beginning with a tribute to Amílcar Cabral and ending with a critical analysis of decolonisation, Rodney tracks how liberation theory has been utilised by the Pan-African struggle and how it can be furthered to ensure true freedom. He establishes four main seeds of knowledge from which freedom can be propagated: 1) Marxism is applicable to the African context, 2) imperialism is the root of underdevelopment, 3) the colonial school of thought is venomous, and 4) liberation will be won through self-determination. As these seeds take root, Rodney directs his audience to the resources that the oppressed have been denied – their culture, history, land, economy and the chance to thrive under systems other than capitalism. To amass true freedom, Rodney insists upon the need to ‘increase African mastery of their own environment’. He thus promotes ‘scientific socialism’, an ideology that ‘speaks to the interests of those who are exploited and expropriated’ by working to ‘overthrow the [capitalist] system of production’.
The book is divided into four sections. The first examines Marxist theory, the second focuses on African underdevelopment, the third addresses education and the fourth rediscovers decolonisation through socialism. Together, these sections build upon the argument that capitalism cannot provide for the needs of the oppressed. It is, therefore, up to the oppressed to re-educate themselves and identify the societal organisation that best fits their needs. For generations, Rodney argues, our society has been subject to ‘education originating [from] colonialists [which] was meant to ensure mental and physical enslavement’. As we push towards new realities, however, we must reclaim different ways of organising, educating, philosophising and being. The book creatively uses section one to begin the reclaiming process by dispelling the myth of socialism’s irrelevance to Africa. Rodney makes a strong case for questioning why socialism is fiercely discredited while capitalism is fervently defended. This section awakens the reader to the falseness of neutrality in all ideologies so as to recognise capitalism as a ‘bourgeois ideology [that] is dominant in our society’. In section two, the myth of Africa’s ‘natural’ inclination to underdevelopment is confronted, followed by section three, dedicated to acknowledging colonial education as a vindictive culture’s (effective) ploy for mental control. These parameters established, the reader is readied for section four, an introspective analysis of socialism in Africa and the ways it can be improved.
Though Rodney’s contributions to Pan-African thought are numerous, his concept of re-education is what I find most striking. Provided we embrace re-education, he asserts, there is no question but that we, the masses, are capable of liberation. It is a question of how far we will go to achieve liberation in its entirety. How we have been educated for centuries (whether by schools, governments, revolutions or communities) impacts our understanding of ourselves and our criteria for liberation. In Chapter 1, Rodney acknowledges that liberation is achieved in stages (i.e., physically, mentally, economically, etc.), and true liberation is only complete when every stage is won. He refers to Cabral’s work in Guinea-Bissau, arguing that the people of Guinea needed more than the expulsion of the Portuguese; they needed to be assured that Guinean land and labour would not be exploited from afar. Without that assurance, Guinean people stood ‘afraid of the river, the rain and the forest’ once the Portuguese left. This mental enslavement resulted from the Portuguese’s ‘perpetuation of ignorance and fear among the masses’, effectively keeping Guinean people from their resources.
In Chapters 2 to 4, Rodney candidly addresses the ‘potency’ of the masses’ enlightened consciousness. His analysis of the impact of reclaiming one’s language, political awareness, labour and social structures makes for a thrilling read. He later addresses the deficiencies of ‘constitutional independence’ in Chapter 8 to champion the benefits of a more holistic form of liberation. Rodney asserts that the ‘solution lies in disengaging and disentangling from the historical bonds [of colonialism] . . . If the [solution] is not in aid . . . then it must lie in terms of rebuilding one’s economy so that it becomes a logical integrated whole.’
In Chapters 11 and 12, re-education becomes the dominant theme as African pedagogy goes head-to-head with the colonialist school of thought. Rodney argues that through education, the oppressor tries to recreate the oppressed [by] . . . persisting with the relationship of domination and subordination. In the case of Africans, the education system . . . fostered white racism and destroyed the African sense of identity to the point of self-hate.
Throughout these chapters, I was reminded of the struggles that Black communities have endured in pursuit of a truthful retelling of their history in schools. Re-education of the masses (and elites) is an essential step towards reclaiming our identity. Rodney furthers this message by acknowledging the educational practices that preceded colonial invasion. In so doing, he proves the malign nature of colonial/neo-colonial education, the integrity of pre-colonial education and the ability of the masses to re-claim and re-create education in their own image. In Chapter 16, Rodney concludes by reiterating the demand for holistic freedom. He challenges us to ‘sharpen our awareness about what needs to be done . . . by recognising that . . . decolonisation is inseparable from a total strategy of liberation that encompasses a control of the material resources [and] a restructuring of the society’.
As a collection of hitherto unpublished essays, Decolonial Marxism may have any Walter Rodney fan chomping at the bit. But buyer beware, there is a lot to take in. It is ambitious to bring together so many essays that were not intended to be read together and, though the book is compelling, I could not help but lose track of the chapters’ or sections’ main theses without diligent re-reads. But the book’s messages are consequential for our day and age, and when read as a grouping of distinct (and sometimes tangential) essays, offer anyone a necessary learning experience.