False Starts in Africa by Rene Dumont, Earthscan, pp 304, pounds 5.95
The Greening of Aid edited by Czech Conroy and Miles Litvinoff, Earthscan,
pp 302, pounds 8.95 pbk
WE TEND TO think of concepts such as small-is-beautiful, desertification
and sustainable development as fairly recent in origin. It may come as a
surprise then to read Rene Dumont’s False Starts in Africa, which he wrote
24 years ago. In it, he advocated small-scale agricultural and industrial
development; he warned of the dangers of excessive erosion from deforestation
and devegetation; he pleaded with foreign ‘experts’ to listen to, and accept,
advice from rural people who know what they need, and often know best how
to get it; and he argued that development must also nurture the environment.
Dumont’s words fell mainly on cloth ears, perhaps because people found
it difficult to take criticism from someone inside the development business.
His swingeing criticisms leave practically no one, be they colonial or African,
aid worker or farmer, with an untarnished halo. Now, Earthscan has re-issued
Dumont’s far-seeing book.
Black Africa, said Dumont, had been ‘degraded by Western intervention’.
However, the departure of the colonial rulers has not brought decolonisation,
but a surfeit of often corrupt, exorbitantly paid, domestic officials. Administration
has become the ‘principal industry’ in many states. Aid often helps to perpetuate
this system, and the educational methods inherited from the Europeans turn
out only bureaucrats.
Africa mimicked the European education system by, for example, teaching
Latin and neglecting agriculture. Rural children learnt that ‘the official
with clean hands earns more and works much less’, and that ‘success’ lies
in getting out of agriculture. But Dumont realised that agriculture was
fundamental to development. Africa must telescope a process of agricultural
development which took the West more than 1000 years. Agriculture must get
the money and the status it deserved. Teachers should ‘decolonialise’ education,
and rewrite the curriculum to focus on practical aspects of modern farming,
emphasising traditional crops, such as millet. This was the only way, Dumont
said, to improve nutrition.
Dumont was also one of the first Westerners to recognise that it is
African women who do most of the farming, yet it is the men that get most
of the agricultural training. Schools, he wrote, should pay much more attention
to the education of girls. And, because women are clearly overworked, men
should take a more equal share of the toil, once suitable systems of land
tenure are developed. Western Europe evolved on the backs of a peasant class
that spent about 60 hours per week on agricultural work. This compares with
around 19 hours put in by the average African male farmer.
Here, Dumont voices some of the first warnings that too much agricultural
‘aid’ mimics Western methods of farming. Dumont pointed to large-scale mechanised
projects that failed yet were perpetuated simply because Western donors
could not learn from their mistakes, and African recipients were not bothered.
‘This money didn’t cost us anything, who cares if it doesn’t bring much.’
Africa could not develop along the lines of the industrialised countries.
‘The specific nature of Africa’s problems must be taken into account with
the greatest care, even if this involves hesitation and constantly evolving
and changing formulas.’ Decisions must remain in the hands of Africans:
the expert is there only to help.
Dumont saw, a quarter of a century ago, the value of traditional forms
of agriculture that we now refer to as intercropping and agroforestry (now
flavours of the moment). He also foresaw that continued deforestation would
have disastrous effects long before the end of the century. Now, people
widely recognise his view that Western forestry practices (developed during
the Renaissance to provide timber for naval ships) are not relevant to Africa.
Dumont’s suggestion that shrubs grown on fallow land could provide fuelwood
more cheaply than firewood plantations could have saved millions of dollars
(and a lot of time), if only someone had listened.
Only in the past 10 years, it seems, have we rediscovered much of what
Dumont was saying. The essence of False Starts in Africa is that the most
difficult problem in releasing Africa’s hidden potential is a human one.
Robert Chambers makes much the same point in his thoughtful and challenging
contribution to The Greening of Aid. ‘The poor are not the problem,’ he
writes. ‘They are the solution.’
Chambers’ recipe for sustainable development is very similar to Dumont’s.
Each project should be regarded as a learning process rather than a dogmatic
blueprint and a ‘dogged commitment to non-learning’. Project workers should
put people’s priorities first, listen to what people say they want, and
keep checking to make sure that they have got it right. They should make
people’s rights secure. ‘Contrary to popular professional prejudice, there
is mounting evidence that when poor people have secure rights ..they tend
to take a long view, holding on tenaciously to land, protecting and saving
trees and seeking to provide for their children.’ And successful projects
place stress on self help and contributions from people towards work that
they see as valuable. Following these guidelines, Chambers argues that degradation
and hardship are an opportunity for the poor, because they can put them
in a position to command and develop their resources.
The Greening of Aid came out of the ‘Only One Earth Conference for a
Sustainable Development’, organised by the International Institute for Environment
and Development (IIED). It contains six chapters, each by a different author.
Each author deals with a different aspect of development (technology, planning,
institutions and human settlements), and contain much valuable comment.
Marilyn Carr reminds us that small-scale rural industries generate income,
and can aid agricultural development – through the production of cheap farm
tools, for example. John Michael Kramer emphasises that sustainability requires
that local people get involved in management and decisions. Projects are
not usually directly ‘reproducible,’ he says. Rather, it is the elements
that allowed the project to be successful that travel well. And as David
Butcher comments, development projects act merely as catapults to provide
the initial impetus for a lengthy process. This is hindered by the short-term
perspective of most funding bodies who, as Colin Rees points out, are not
usually held accountable for the environmental effects of their actions.
Each chapter of The Greening of Aid is accompanied by an outline of
at least five success- ful projects. These project ‘sketches’, which cover
a wide range endeavours, from land classification and appraisal to fishing
and cement manufacture, provide an instructive, encouraging (and reassuring)
reference for successful schemes for sustainable development. Further details
of the projects are obtainable, we are told, from the IIED (but why not
include addresses of contacts?).
Dumont’s work suggests to me that human frailties – ego, greed, the
jealous protection of professional status – stand in the way of development
for the poor. We do not appear to have come very far since he made his perceptive
observations. But The Greening of Aid shows clearly that care, sensitivity,
a willingness to listen and adapt, and committed, long-term funding can
work miracles. That so few projects survive suggests that the organisation
of projects and their funding need the radical changes that both books seek.
To quote Dumont again: ‘It is a pity that failure is not readily acknowledged,
and therefore seldom serves as a lesson to others ..’ A companion volume
to The Greening of Aid, giving examples of failed projects and examining
them, could prove equally, or even more illuminating.
Peter de Groot is a freelance writer, specialising in biomass.