black power

Walter Rodney’s Revolutionary Praxis: An Interview With Devyn Springer

By Derek Ford

Republished from Liberation School.

The following interview, facilitated by Derek Ford, took place via e-mail during June and July in preparation for Black August, when progressive organizers and activists deepen our study of and commitment to the Black struggle in the U.S. and the anti-colonial and anti-imperialist class struggles worldwide. During this time, we wanted to provide a unique and accessible resource on Walter Rodney, the revolutionary Guyanese organizer, theorist, pedagogue, political economist, and what many call a “guerrilla intellectual.” Liberation School recently republished Rodney’s essay on George Jackson here.

About Devyn Springer

Devyn Springer is a cultural worker and community organizer who works with the Walter Rodney Foundation and ASERE, an extension group of the Red Barrial Afrodescendiente. They’re a popular educator who doesn’t just study Rodney but practices his philosophies. Since 2018, they’ve hosted the Groundings podcast, which is named after Rodney’s revolutionary educational praxis. The podcast, which has addressed an impressive array of topics relevant to the struggle, is available on all major streaming platforms. They’ve written timely and important pieces on politics and education in academic and popular outlets, some of which can be found here. They’ve also produced the documentary Parchman Prison: Pain & Protest, and you can support their work and get access to exclusive content by supporting their Patreon.

Derek Ford: Thanks so much for agreeing to this interview, Devyn. I always look forward to working and learning with you and I appreciate your work on revolutionary movements and education. I know you’re involved with the Walter Rodney Foundation, which is not just about preserving his legacy but promoting the revolutionary theories, practices, and models he developed. Can you tell me a bit about the Foundation, your role, and why it’s important for the movement broadly in the U.S.?

Devyn Springer: The Walter Rodney Foundation was formed by the Rodney family in 2006, with the goal of sharing Walter Rodney’s life and works with students, scholars, activists, and communities around the world. Because of the example Walter Rodney left in his own personal life and the principles he established in his work, we see supporting grassroots movements, offering public education, and the praxis of advancing social justice in a number of ways as what it really means to share his life with the world; Walter Rodney was as much a fan of doing as he was speaking, after all. We have a number of annual programs, including many political education classes oriented around themes related to Rodney’s body of work—colonialism, underdevelopment, Pan-African struggle, scholar-activism, assassination, Black history, the Caribbean, etc. We also run ongoing projects like the Legacies Project, which is actively seeking and collecting stories and oral histories around the world about Walter Rodney.

I’ve volunteered with the WRF since around 2013. I currently help coordinate the Foundation’s social media, and offer other types of support as needed.

I feel the Foundation is crucial for the movement broadly for a number of reasons. First, the critical analysis of slavery, colonialism, imperialism, and underdevelopment Rodney gave in works like How Europe Underdeveloped Africa remains relevant, and we need organizations dedicated to distilling this knowledge. Second, because our movement must reckon with the lives, works, histories, struggles, and relevance of the elders past and present who we owe so much to, whether it’s the Claudia Jones School For Political Education, the Paul Robeson House & Museum, Habana’s Centro Martin Luther King Jr., or the Walter Rodney Foundation: there needs to be organizations and groups dedicated to maintaining these legacies and continuing their work.

More than just maintaining legacies, in other words, the WRF also makes sure that Walter Rodney’s critical analyses remain critical, and do not get co-opted. Finally, the foundation is important because it is run by the Rodney family, who themselves have extensive decades of organizing, advocacy, and knowledge which is always beneficial. (And I must clarify, whenever I speak of a ‘movement’ broadly as above, I am speaking about the global Black Liberation Movement foremost, in a Revolutionary Pan-Africanist sense).

Those are precisely the reasons we wanted to do this interview, particularly to expose readers (and ourselves) to the broader range and context of his work, and to learn more about the depth of his praxis and why it’s needed today. To start then, can you give our readers a bit of historical and biographical context for Walter Rodney’s life and work? What was happening at the time, who was he working with, agitating against, etc…?

I will try to be brief here and give some basic biographical information, because there’s so much one could say. Walter Rodney was an activist, intellectual, husband, and father, who lived and visited everywhere from Guyana, Jamaica, the USSR, Cuba, and Tanzania, to Kenya, Uganda, Ghana, London, Spain, Portugal, Italy, the U.S., and Canada. He was born in Georgetown, Guyana in March 1942, where he was raised and resided for much of his life. He graduated from the University of the West Indies (UWI) in Jamaica in 1963, then received his PhD with honors in African History from the School of Oriental and African Studies in London at the age of 24. His thesis, A History of the Upper Guinea Coast, 1545-1800, was completed in 1966 and then published in 1970, and I highly recommend it to readers [1].

Rodney was deeply influenced by a number of revolutionary movements and ideologies which had flourished during his lifetime: the multitude of armed African decolonial struggles across the continent, the Black Power Movement in the U.S., Third World revolutionaries like Che, Mao, and Cabral, and Pan-African/Marxist praxis generally. Walter Rodney taught in Jamaica, working to break the bourgeois academy from its ivory tower, where he delivered a number of groundings across the island to the working class, including the Rastafari and other marginalized communities at the time. While at the 1968 Black Writers’ Conference in Montreal, Canada, the Jamaican government banned him from re-entering on the grounds that his ‘associations’ with Cuban, Soviet, and other communist governments posed a threat to Jamaica’s national security. Massive outbursts now known as the “Rodney Riots” subsequently broke out across Kingston. Rodney spent many months writing in Cuba prior to traveling to the University of Dar es Salaam in revolutionary Tanzania in 1969. 

In 1974, Walter returned to Guyana to take up an appointment as Professor of History at the University of Guyana, but the government (under the dictates of President Forbes Burnham) rescinded the appointment. Rodney remained in Guyana and helped form the socialist political party, the Working People’s Alliance, alongside activist-intellectuals like Eusi Kwayana and Andaiye. Between 1974 and 1979 he emerged as the leading figure in the resistance movement against the increasingly repressive government led by the People’s National Congress, which can be summarized as publicly espousing Pan-African, anti-aparatheid, and socialist talking points while running a despotic, corrupt Western-backed state operation.

He gave public and private talks all over the country that served to engender a new political consciousness in the country, and he stated in his speeches and writing that he believed a people’s revolution was the only way towards true liberation for the Guyanese people. During this period he developed and advocated the WPA’s politics of “People’s Power” that called on the broad masses of people to take political control instead of a tiny clique, and “multiracial democracy” to address the steep obstacles presented by the racial disunity between Afro-Guyanese and Indo-Guyanese peoples (which is still present today).

On June 13, 1980, shortly after returning from independence celebrations in Zimbabwe, Rodney was assassinated in Georgetown, Guyana by an explosive device hidden in a walkie-talkie, given to him by Gregory Smith, former sergeant in the Guyana Defense Force. Smith was subsequently given new passports and secretly flown out of the country. Donald Rodney, Walter’s younger brother who was in the car with him when the bomb went off, was falsely accused and convicted of being in possession of explosives; he fought to clear his own name for decades until April of this year, when Guyana’s appellate court exonerated him. A few weeks later the Government of Guyana officially recognized Walter’s death as an assassination. This comes after years of struggle on behalf of the Rodney family, particularly Dr. Patricia Rodney and the WRF. Walter was just 38 years old at the time of his assassination, but his legacy is continued by his wife, three children, and the dozens of incredible speeches, essays, interviews, and books he gave and wrote.

Rodney’s best-known work is How Europe Underdeveloped Africa. Why do you think that is? What are his main arguments there, and are they still relevant to understanding Western imperialism and African resistance?

That’s a special type of book that, like few others, can completely change or deeply influence one’s politics. Rodney essentially put forth a historical-materialist argument showing that economically, politically, and socially, Europe was in a dialectical relationship with Africa, wherein the wealth of Europe was dependent upon the underdevelopment of Africa. In other words, Rodney shows with painstaking detail how European capitalism (and eventually the global capitalist system) could not have existed without the systematic precolonial exploitation of Africa, the massive amounts of capital generated through the Maafa, later the expansive economic, political, financial, and social domination under direct colonial rule, and the continuing—or perfecting—of these exploitative processes under the current neo-colonial world order. As Rodney puts it:

“Colonialism was not merely a system of exploitation, but one whose essential purpose was to repatriate the profits to the so-called mother country. From an African viewpoint, that amounted to consistent expatriation of surplus produced by African labor out of African resources. It meant the development of Europe as part of the same dialectical process in which Africa was underdeveloped” [2].

It remains his most recognized work because it remains incredibly relevant, both in the sense that the current world capitalist structure is built on this historical underdevelopment of the South, and because, under imperialism, the North must still exploit and perpetually underdevelop the South. Its publication marked a significant contribution to theories of underdevelopment and dependency. Alongside revolutionary intellectuals like Samir Amin and Osagyefo Kwame Nkrumah, it was groundbreaking in that it applied Marxism to the Third World with great precision and depth. Further, Rodney goes into detail about not just underdevelopment but the history of class society and feudalism in Africa, social violence, fascism, agrarian struggles, racism, enslavement, gender, economics, misleadership and African sellouts, and so much more. In some ways, I like to think of it as a foundational text for revolutionaries in the same way that many consider Marx’s Capital or Marx and Engels’ The Communist Manifesto to be.

One example of its relevancy is in thinking about labor and the workforce as it relates to slavery. Rodney uses data to explain that the social violence of the Maafa had a deep impact on African development because it removed millions of young Africans from the labor force, created technological regression, and directed whatever mass energy aimed at productive or technological innovation towards the trade in human captives.

He says, “The European slave trade was a direct block, in removing millions of youth and young adults who are the human agents from whom inventiveness springs. Those who remained in areas badly hit by slave capturing were preoccupied about their freedom rather than with improvements in production” [3]. I relate this to the crisis of incarceration in the U.S., wherein millions of Africans are removed from the labor force, removed from their families and communities, and in the same way, are removed even from the very opportunity of innovation and production to instead perform hyper-exploited, forced labor at the hands of the settler-capitalist state. Ruth Wilson Gilmore’s work has, to an extent, explained how the capitalist state necessitates this incarceration, and in the same way I’d suggest that European capitalism’s violently expansive nature necessitated the multitude of exploitative interactions with Africa, from slavery to neo-colonialism.

What about the influence it’s had, not just academically but in terms of revolutionary struggles?

I get letters, emails, and calls almost on a monthly basis from incarcerated people who are reading not only that book but also The Groundings With My Brothers, an underrated gem of Rodney’s. They’ve formed reading groups and created zines around his work; asked me to further explain concepts he mentions; and even drawn incredible illustrations of Rodney. I find this engagement with Rodney equally valuable (and often more rewarding) as that of academics. Patricia Rodney has told me that over the decades incarcerated people have consistently gravitated towards Rodney’s work and written to her, likely because of the accessible way he’s able to break down complex concepts. I’m actually currently working with the WRF on a project to donate many copies of Walter Rodney’s books to incarcerated people, and hopefully in the coming months we’ll have more info to share on this.

Beyond that, Rodney’s work has globally influenced the left in more ways than I could explain or speculate in this interview. His revolutionary African analysis has corrected Eurocentric views of history and allowed us to better understand the important role decolonization plays in our fight against imperialism. He also offers a great example for young writers, researchers, and organizers on how to write materialist history and analyses. For example, as one reads his work it’s impossible not to note the multitude of ways Rodney directly eviscerates bourgeois historians and apologists.

Please keep us updated on the WRF project, because we’ll definitely want to support it. It seems that Rodney was exemplary at achieving true “praxis,” the merging of theory and practice. One of the ways this shows up most is in his pedagogical work–his theories and practices–which he called “groundings.” It’s not just a pedagogy, but a practice of decolonizing knowledge and empowering oppressed people to organize, at least as I understand it. I know it’s influenced your own work and you’ve written about it, so how would you describe it to someone just joining the struggle, or just learning about imperialism, colonialism, and racism?

Yes, I co-wrote a piece titled “Groundings: A Revolutionary Pan-African Pedagogy for Guerilla Intellectuals” that’s available for free online, and which I plan to re-write/expand soon, and my podcast is named after this pedagogical model as well. Usually, when people refer to Rodney’s “groundings” they are referring to his period as a professor in Jamaica, where he quite literally broke away from the elitist academy and brought his lectures to the people: in the streets, the yards, the slums, wherever workers and others gathered. He gave public lectures on African and Caribbean history, political movements, capitalism, colonialism, Black Power, etc. These groundings were often based on what people expressed interest in learning about, and Rodney found ways to make various topics relevant and important to the lives of those listening. In many regards, Rodney should be placed next to popular educators like Paulo Freire for his contributions and his example of merging theory with practice. The book The Groundings With My Brothers is a collection of speeches, many given at or about these groundings [4].

More than just giving public lectures, groundings entailed democratizing knowledge and the tools of knowledge production, which are traditionally tied up with the capitalist academy. He empowered communities to tap into their own histories, oral and written, to generate knowledge and research amongst themselves based on their interests and needs, to place European history and Eurocentric frameworks as non-normative, and to hold African history as crucially important to the process of African revolution. He brilliantly lays out the importance of African history in Black liberation in “African History in the Service of Black Liberation,” a speech he gave in Montreal, ironically at the conference from which he would not be allowed to return to Jamaica [5].

In the most basic terms, I would explain groundings as the act of coming together in a group, explaining, discussing, and exploring topics relevant to the group’s lives; everyone in the group listens, engages, contributes, reasons, and grounds with one another, and all voices are valued. Groundings can take place inside of jail cells, within classrooms, in parks and workplaces, or anywhere the intentions of Afrocentric group dialogue and learning are maintained.

One of the interesting things about The Groundings With My Brothers is the way it moves from Black Power in the U.S. to Jamaica, to the West Indies, to Africa, and then to groundings. As a final set of questions, can you explain what he meant by Black Power and Blackness, and what they had to do with education?

Well, to understand that book you have to understand a bit about the context in which the book arose. In Groundings we see Rodney’s ability to take seemingly large concepts like neo-colonialism, Black Power, Blackness, etc., and break them down to a level that could engage people. It taught them how to make sense of the fact that the people oppressing them were the same color and nationality as them. In the midst of decolonization and independence movements sweeping the world, there was a crucial Cold War and neo-colonization taking place simultaneously. Facilitating this counter-revolution were several African leaders and activists employed to do the bidding of imperialist powers seeking to regain or retain their power. In Jamaica, this was no different: the Jamaican government in 1968 went so far as to ban any literature printed in the USSR and Cuba, as well as an extensive list of works about Black Power and Black revolution, including those of Black Power activists such as Trinidian-born Kwame Ture (Stokley Carmichael), Malcolm X, and Elijah Muhammad.

Placed in this context, we see that Rodney’s work explaining the U.S. Black Power movement’s importance and relevance for the Caribbean and Africans everywhere was quite important in raising the political consciousness of working-class Africans. A key part of this was educating on the role of “indigenous lackeys” or “local lackeys of imperialism” in maintaining the (neo)colonial status quo. In a speech initially published as a pamphlet titled, Yes to Marxism!, he says:

“When I was in Jamaica in 1960, I would say that already my consciousness of West Indian society was not that we needed to fight the British but that we needed to fight the British, the Americans, and their indigenous lackeys. That I see as an anti-neo-colonial consciousness as distinct from a purely anti-colonial consciousness” [6].

His distinct analysis of misleadership and its colonial implications was a searing threat, as Dr. Charisse Burden-Stelly wonderfully explains [7].

Rodney defines power as being kept ‘milky white’ through imperialist forces of violence, exploitation, and discrimination, and that Black Power in contrast may be seen as the antithesis to this imperialist, colonial, racial demarcation that structures capitalist society. The following quote is long, but I want to quote it in full because I find it useful. He says:

“The present Black Power movement in the United States is a rejection of hopelessness and the policy of doing nothing to halt the oppression of blacks by whites. It recognises the absence of Black Power, but is confident of the potential of Black Power on this globe. Marcus Garvey was one of the first advocates of Black Power and is still today the greatest spokesman ever to have been produced by the movement of black consciousness. ‘A race without power and authority is a race without respect,’ wrote Garvey. He spoke to all Africans on the earth, whether they lived in Africa, South America, the West Indies or North America, and he made blacks aware of their strength when united. The USA was his main field of operation, after he had been chased out of Jamaica by the sort of people who today pretend to have made him a hero. All of the black leaders who have advanced the cause in the USA since Garvey’s time have recognised the international nature of the struggle against white power. Malcolm X, our martyred brother, became the greatest threat to white power in the USA because he began to seek a broader basis for his efforts in Africa and Asia, and he was probably the first individual who was prepared to bring the race question in the US up before the UN as an issue of international importance. The Students Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), the important Black Power organisation, developed along the same lines; and at about the same time that the slogan Black Power came into existence a few years ago, SNCC was setting up a foreign affairs department, headed by James Foreman, who afterwards travelled widely in Africa. [Kwame Ture] has held serious discussions in Vietnam, Cuba and the progressive African countries, such as Tanzania and Guinea. These are all steps to tap the vast potential of power among the hundreds of millions of oppressed black peoples” [8].

He defined Black Power in the U.S. context as “when decisions are taken in the normal day-to-day life of the USA, the interests of the blacks must be taken into account out of respect for their power – power that can be used destructively if it is not allowed to express itself constructively. This is what Black Power means in the particular conditions of the USA” [9].

Rodney finds there are three ways in which Black Power applies to the West Indies:

“(1) the break with imperialism which is historically white racist; (2) the assumption of power by the black masses in the islands; (3) the cultural reconstruction of the society in the image of the blacks” [10].

I’m sure this was a much longer answer than anticipated, but I find it incredibly important to understand that Walter Rodney’s conception of Black Power was revolutionary, and was also fundamentally inspired by his Marxist approach which sought to apply these revolutionary ideals to the specific context of the Caribbean and Africans globally. He also explains, in detail, his notion of ‘Blackness’ as being stretched differently to how we conceive of ‘Blackness’ today to include the entirety of the colonized world. He states, “The black people of whom I speak, therefore, are non-whites – the hundreds of millions of people whose homelands are in Asia and Africa, with another few millions in the Americas;” however he clarifies that “further subdivision can be made with reference to all people of African descent, whose position is clearly more acute than that of most nonwhite groups” [11].

He places Blackness as the most crucial element, stating “Black Power is a doctrine about black people, for black people, preached by black people,” and later adds that “once a person is said to be black by the white world, then that is usually the most important thing about him; fat or thin, intelligent or stupid, criminal or sportsman – these things pale into insignificance” [12]. This understanding stands in relevance to Frantz Fanon’s similar move, where he states: “In the colonies the economic infrastructure is also a superstructure. The cause is effect: You are rich because you are white, you are white because you are rich. This is why a Marxist analysis should always be slightly stretched when it comes to addressing the colonial issue” [13].

It wasn’t long but incredibly informative and the context you’ve given has helped me grasp his moves throughout that book. I’ve really appreciated your time and energy, and definitely recommend that our readers check out your podcast and other work. I’m looking forward to our next collaboration!

References

[1] Walter, Rodney A. (1966).A history of the Upper Guinea Coast, 1545-1800, PhD dissertation (University of London). Availablehere.
[2] Rodney, Walter. (1972/1982).How Europe underdeveloped Africa(Cambridge: Harvard University Press), 149.
[3] Ibid., 105.
[4] Rodney, Walter. (1969/2019).The groundings with my brothers, ed. J.J. Benjamin and A.T. Rodney (New York: Verso).
[5] Rodney, Walter. (1968). “African history in the service of Black liberation.” Speech delivered at the Congress of Black Writers, referenced fromHistory is a Weapon, undated, availablehere.
[6] Cited in Burden-Stelly, Charisse. (2019). “Between radicalism and repression: Walter Rodney’s revolutionary praxis,”Black Perspectives, 06 May. Availablehere.
[7] Ibid.
[8] Rodney,The groundings with my brothers, 14-15.
[9] Ibid., 18.
[10] Ibid., 24.
[11] Ibid., 10.
[12] Ibid., 9, 10.
[13] Fanon, Frantz. (1961/2005).The wretched of the earth, trans. R. Philcox (New York: Grove Press), 5.

Black Lives Matter UK Revives the Anti-Imperialist Spirit of British Black Power

[PHOTO CREDIT: GETTY IMAGES]

By Alfie Hancox

The Black Lives Matter (BLM) protests that have erupted in multiple British cities including London, Birmingham, Manchester and Bristol, under the political direction of independent groups such as BLM UK* and BLM LDN, have typically been portrayed in the media as displays of solidarity with the movement in America. Black American movements have certainly always exerted a powerful influence in Britain, as Paul Gilroy’s concept of ‘The Black Atlantic’ has underscored – but British black radical politics should not be narrowly construed as just a US import.

In post-war Britain, Black Power took on a specific trajectory, based on the intertwined legacy of British colonialism in the Caribbean, Africa and Asia. Black radicals in Britain drew inspiration from anti-colonial struggles, and their uncompromising internationalism put them at odds with the parochialism of the left-wing mainstream. The expansive anti-imperialism of British Black Power has strong resonances today, in the way that the BLM protestors have targeted monuments to slavery and colonialism in Britain’s historic port cities, and also in the identification of BLM UK with emergent anti-capitalist and indigenous movements in the Global South. BLM UK has especially revived the intersectional anti-imperialism of the original black women’s movement in Britain.

British Black Power’s internationalist origins

Black radical politics in Britain have a long history extending well before the ‘Windrush moment’ (when the HMT Empire Windrush carrying workers from the Caribbean docked at Tilbury, Essex in 1948). From the eighteenth century, black Jacobins in England like Robert Wedderburn preached slavery abolition and working-class rebellion, and in 1900 the inaugurating conference of Pan-Africanism was held in London. However, British black radicalism entered a new stage in the decades following the Second World War. Due to racist employment and housing discrimination, economic stagnation hit black and Asian immigrant communities particularly hard, and their insecurity was compounded by police harassment and the fascistic terror meted out by National Front thugs.

Most of the Black Power groups established in Britain in the 1960s-70s, including the British Black Panthers and the Black Liberation Front, contained both African Caribbean and Asian members. British Black Power was based on an expansive political black identity, which grew organically out of post-war ‘New Commonwealth’ immigrant resistance in Britain. Trinidad-born communist Claudia Jones, who founded the Notting Hill carnival in 1959, should be recognised as a significant progenitor of political blackness. Jones was inspired by the Bandung Afro-Asian Conference in 1955, and in her essay “The Caribbean Community in Britain” she observed that “the common experience of Afro-Asian-Caribbean peoples in Britain is leading to a growing unison among these communities as they increasingly identify an injury to one as being an injury to all”.[1] Afro-Asian unity in Britain was also partially mediated via Black Power movements in Trinidad and Guyana, both former British colonies, where political solidarities were built up between the descendants of slaves from Africa and indentured servants from India.

Black self-organising came in response to intensifying racism. After Conservative MP Enoch Powell gave his infamous ‘rivers of blood’ speech in Birmingham in 1968, several black political organisations met in a pub in Leamington Spa, Warwickshire to form a radical Black People’s Alliance. Among the attendant groups was the local Indian Workers Association, which had liaised with Malcolm X during his 1965 tour of England. In January 1969, the Alliance led an enormous march of some 5,000 Asian and black people on Downing Street, demanding the repeal of the latest Immigration Act, and condemning white-minority rule in southern Africa. During the march, an effigy was burnt to chants of “Disembowel Enoch Powell”. The day was reported on enthusiastically by Darcus Howe, a prominent member of the British Black Panther movement:

It was a truly beautiful sight to witness some ten thousand MILITANT black people – Africans, Indians, Pakistanis and West Indians – come out on to the streets and place themselves firmly upon the stage of REVOLUTIONARY POLITICAL ACTIVITY here in Britain … The march moved off from Speakers Corner with deafning roars of “WE WANT BLACK POWER”, and as our people became conscious of their numbers and solidarity, the slogan became, “We ARE BLACK POWER” (Black Dimension, February 1969).

The Black People’s Alliance march was also significant for the appearance of open tensions between black radicals and the white-majority socialist groups in attendance. The sixties are often associated with a heightened socialist internationalism, and there is an element of truth to this – the Vietnam Solidarity Campaign was launched by Marxist activists in Britain in 1966. However, this campaign represented a somewhat abstract identification with a movement against US imperialism. Additionally, while the British Anti-Apartheid Movement was critical of the government’s support for white-minority rule, during the 1960s it retained a neo-imperial vision of the Commonwealth as “a multiracial group of equals”, ignoring Britain’s exploitative economic relations with its ex-colonies.[2] Howe recorded the nuisance of what might be called ‘vicarious internationalism’ at the Black People’s Alliance demonstration:

When some white demonstrators attempted to dilute these [Black Power] war cries with such meaningless shouts of “Black and white unite and fight”, they were completely phased out, and the Vietnam contingent who wanted to inject the “Ho Ho Ho Chi Minh” chant, were reminded that the issues involved were right here in England.

There are parallels here with the reductionist framing of BLM protests in Britain as an exclusive response to racist violence in America. This narrative is based on a pervasive idea of British benevolence, stemming from the country’s failure to address the monstrous realities of its empire. Such denialism further subsumes a lengthy history of overt racism within Britain, including the racist pogroms in 1919 and 1958 in which colonial violence was turned inward, and the perpetual terrorising of black communities by the police, often under the pretext of ‘mugging panics’. In fact, as was highlighted by the Lammy Review, there is currently a greater disproportionality in the number of black people imprisoned in England and Wales than in America. As BLM protestors across Britain insist, in spite of prime minister Boris Johnson’s claims to the contrary, “the UK is not innocent”.

Bringing the Third World into the British metropole

Black Power developed in a global context of international political projects committed to Third World unity. The term ‘Third World’ was first used in the 1950s to designate countries outside either Cold War camp, but its meaning was soon transformed into a progressive organising principle, culminating in the New International Economic Order demanded by ‘developing’ nations at the UN in the mid-1970s.

The British Black Power movement argued that the imperialist strangulation of the Third World survived the demise of formal colonialism, through processes of capitalist unequal exchange – enforced by neo-colonial militarism, such as Britain’s post-war counterinsurgency in Malaya (initially overseen by a Labour government) – that ensured permanent underdevelopment for the ex-colonies.[3] Black radicals used the anti-imperialist concept of a global ‘core’ and ‘periphery’ to highlight a material reality of neo-colonial exploitation, but they did not perceive this as a mechanical geographical divide. In an editorial in Howe’s journal Race Today, the Third World was shown to have leaked into the metropolitan British core: “Handsworth, Notting Hill, Brixton, Southall are colonies and the struggles which emerge from within these enclaves are clearly anti-colonial in content” (Race Today, February 1976). Black Power activists thus denaturalised global economic polarisation as a political division – one that needed to be dismantled.

Internationalist connections were sometimes direct. Some Third World revolutionaries, including Walter Rodney, studied in London during the 1960s, while a number of British black radicals travelled to revolutionary nodal centres like Havana, Algiers and Dar es Salaam. After its revolutionary pilgrimage in 1978, the London-based Black Liberation Front celebrated Cuba as an example of socialism working to erode racism: “One of the most impressive sights of Havana is the people: they are composed of Afrikans, Latins, Indians, Chinese and those of mixed races. They all combine and live together as one united Cuba, without the fear of racial animosity” (Grassroots, September/October 1978). Some black radicals even interpreted Irish Republicanism as a neighbouring struggle against British imperialism.

For British Black Power militants, identification with the black and Asian working-class struggle in Britain was inseparable from their identification with developments in Third World socialist and anti-colonial movements, be they in Africa, Latin America, Asia or Australasia. As the Sri Lanka-born black radical theorist Ambalavaner Sivanandan emphasised, “the heart is where the battle is”.

Challenging nativist social democracy

Much of the appeal of Black Power in Britain stemmed from disillusionment with the Labour Party, which on taking power in 1964 enforced the Tories’ Commonwealth Immigrants Act, targeting primary immigration from Britain’s former empire. Labour’s capitulation to racist sentiments became even more apparent in March 1968 (one month before Powell’s speech in Birmingham), with its rushed updated immigration bill barring free entry to Britain’s Asian citizens in Kenya trying to flee the ‘Africanization’ campaign. Harold Wilson’s 1974 Labour government again gifted official legitimacy to anti-immigrant attitudes, enforcing the 1971 Immigration Act despite its initial opposition, and overseeing a steady increase in deportations.[4]

Gilroy’s influential critique of the mainstream left’s implicitly-racialised nationalism in There Ain't No Black in the Union Jack was prefigured in the black radical movement, which pinpointed the British labour movement’s historical imbrication in colonialism. The Fabians, for instance, who provided the intellectual underpinning of the Labour Party, were staunch imperialists. In the 1970s the Asian Youth Movement, which took up the symbolism and rhetoric of Black Power, coined the slogan “Labour, Tory both the same, both play the racist game!”[5] As sociologist John Narayan explains, British Black Power groups identified “how race and racism had infected the British labour movement and its confusion of social democracy for socialism … Britain’s (white) working class had been bound to the neo-imperial social democratic state and its outward racism and hostility to the non-white members of the British working class served as a denial of the multi-racial nature of the global working class”.[6]

This black radical critique can be extended to the contemporary phenomenon of Corbynism, which never managed to shake off the rationale of ‘nativist social democracy’. Under Corbyn’s leadership, the Labour Party continued to support hard border controls, while its 2019 Manifesto upheld the ‘national security’ framing that associates migrants with criminality. As Narayan argues, the Corbyn project tacitly repeated “the racialized and methodological nationalist idea of justice that underpinned previous forms of social democracy through a neutral [i.e. ‘race’-blind] focus on British class injustice”.[7]

As British black radicals recognised, left-wing patriotism (recently reformulated as ‘progressive patriotism’) is predicated on the whitewashing of the country’s working-class history, perhaps most notably the post-war construction of the National Health Service. While the NHS partly represented a working-class gain – or, more accurately, a ruling-class concession to stem the rising tide of trade union militancy – this is just one side of the story. To service the NHS, the Colonial Office recruited hospital staff from West Africa, the Caribbean and Southeast Asia. Immigrant workers were funnelled into the lowest-grade qualifications, and often held at permanent risk of deportation. Indeed, as the Windrush scandal recently exposed, that risk never went away. There was for instance the case of Gretel Gocan, an 81-year-old Windrush-generation nurse kept out of Britain, and separated from her children for nine years, after taking a holiday to Jamaica. Meanwhile racist abuse, often compounded by sexism, continues to be routinely hurled at NHS staff. The whitewashing of the NHS further entails the erasure of a sustained history of radical resistance by women of colour workers, including nurses from the Caribbean, to gendered-racist discrimination. Women in the Race Today Collective suggested that black and Asian healthcare workers “brought the tradition of rebellion and resistance they had fashioned in the womb of colonial society” (Race Today, May 1975).

Intersectional anti-imperialism

Anti-imperialism was also the organisational pivot of the original black women’s movement in Britain, formed in opposition to the Eurocentrism of the white feminist mainstream, which posited patriarchy as a universal and monolithic system of oppression, ignoring how, for example, the history of colonialism and slavery meant that the black family was frequently a source of refuge for black women. The formation in 1978 of the national black and Asian women’s umbrella group, the Organisation of Women of African and Asian Descent (OWAAD), was inspired by the self-organising of women in African national liberation movements, some of which had representatives in Britain. OWAAD’s founding statement, currently held in the Black Cultural Archives in Brixton, paid homage to how “the increased scale and higher level of the women’s participation in the anti-imperialist struggle have been achieved through the successes in combatting the reaction of male domination be it in Namibia, Eritrea, Zimbabwe, Mozambique etc.” The organisation also explained how political blackness “provides us with a distinct, united identity based on our relationship to Imperialism, a system which uses the ideology of racism to rationalise its continued exploitation of our people both here and abroad” (“Afro-Asian Unity – Rhetoric or Reality?”, undated).

OWAAD members underlined how, on a global scale, capitalist-imperialism simultaneously mobilises sexism and racism within a global hierarchy of wages – including the unpaid domestic labour of especially Third World women – to capture imperialist ‘superprofits’. They also emphasised how the post-Keynesian, neo-imperialist strategy of outsourcing production to take advantage of cheap female labour in the Third World was accompanied by renewed racially-gendered discourses to naturalise the subordination of this new workforce, as in this widely-circulated Malaysian government advert: “The manual dexterity of the oriental female is famous world over. Her hands are small and she works fast with extreme care; who, therefore, could be better qualified by nature and inheritance to contribute to the efficiency of a bench-assembly production line than the oriental girl”.[8]

Several British black women’s groups sent delegations to the UN World Conferences on Women in Nairobi (1985) and Beijing (1995), joining international calls for the recognition of Third World women’s unremunerated labour.[9] Their intersectional understanding of how class exploitation is heavily shaped by race and gender has sustained relevance today, as the enormous profits accrued by Global North-based multinational corporations are often predicated on the hyper-exploitation of women of colour workers in factories and sweatshops located in places like Bangladesh, Mexico and the Philippines.

The new return to black radicalism in Britain

Immediately, the Black Lives Matter movement developed as a response to anti-black police violence in the US, and direct parallels were drawn by BLM UK to the institutional police racism and black deaths in custody in Britain. But BLM has also articulated a broader transnational political project, drawing connections with global anti-capitalist revolts over the last year including in Chile, Lebanon, Kenya and Haiti, particularly directed against the economic austerity caused by neo-colonial ‘structural adjustment programmes’ imposed by the International Monetary Fund and the World Bank.

A return to political blackness in its original form in Britain is unlikely, especially as it has come under retrospective criticism for flattening cultural differences, but the same process of constructing political coalitions against racism and imperialism, while simultaneously asserting specific national or ethnic positionalities, which took place in the 1960s-70s continues today. In the context of continued core-periphery polarisation, for emerging anti-imperialist forces internationally, including BLM, the ‘Global South’ has become a political term that harkens back to Black Power-era Third Worldism. BLM UK has resurrected the discerning anti-imperialist consciousness that relates local injustices to global structural inequality. Although Britain’s protracted imperial decline has not relented, British capitalism still plays a directly neo-colonial role, which was luridly underscored when, in 2017, Whitehall officials described a post-Brexit project for trade expansion with former colonies as “Empire 2.0”. A 2016 report by War on Want revealed that “101 companies listed on the London Stock Exchange — most of them British — have mining operations in 37 sub-Saharan African countries. They collectively control over one trillion dollars’ worth of Africa’s most valuable resources.” Black activists have pinpointed how Britain’s imperialism abroad, and the oppression facing migrants and communities of colour under the domestic ‘hostile environment’, are two facets of the same centralising logic of racial capitalism.

This (re)articulation of British black radicalism was seen in a speech by the 2016 NUS National Black Students’ Officer, Malia Bouattia, during Black History Month: “With many Black communities in Britain formed of recent migrants, and against the backdrop of widespread anticolonial movements in the Global South, there was also a strong, vocal support for movements for the liberation of Black people worldwide, from what for many was the heartland of empire: ‘Great Britain’.” The identification with the political Global South is reminiscent of black radicals’ dynamic conception of the core-periphery relationship, which had entailed an empowering seeping of the Third World into the British metropole. As Leah Cowan explains, “BLM UK made important connections between Britain’s colonial history and its capitalist present, in which profits are prioritised over black lives.” This new return to expansive anti-imperialist solidarities among racialised minorities thoroughly undermines the essentialising ethnic absolutism that accompanied state-driven ‘multiculturalism’ under New Labour.

The tearing down of colonial monuments by BLM protestors, continuing in the tradition of the transnational Rhodes Must Fall movement, is inherently political: directing attention towards how neo-colonial and anti-black violence remains ever present in the metropole. The well-worn criticism that colonial-era statues should instead be moved to museums has little bearing given that, as historian Louis Allday explains, the state-sponsored heritage sector often “shamelessly celebrates Britain’s imperial violence and provides little or no historical context to it”. The real outrage should be that the British government has purposefully destroyed the records of its colonial crimes. The protesters are directly confronting the colonial legacy, not only through symbolic de-colonialism – for instance, by casting the figure of slaver Edward Colston into the depths of the same Bristolian river that was once used to transport slaves – but also by forcing a much-needed conversation about racism in Britain today. The indignation expressed by liberal and conservative pundits alike when some black activists set their crosshairs on statues of Winston Churchill (the admirer of Mussolini who was responsible for a genocidal famine in India) shows just how far the country still has to go to come to terms with the inglorious underside of Britishness.

BLM has also built on the strategic intersectionalism of post-war black radicalism – the BLM movement itself was initiated by queer black feminists. BLM UK argues that “until trans, working-class, disabled, sex-worker, queer (and more) black people are free, we will all be unfree.” The foregrounding of these linkages is particularly commensurate to the political challenges posed by the intersections of homophobia and neo-imperialism. For instance, a report released in September 2019 found that, from 2016-2018, the UK Home Office refused at least 3,100 LGBT+ asylum seekers from countries where ‘same-sex acts’ are criminalised. Many of those countries had homophobic legislation imposed under British colonial rule, and some still have significant economic ties with Britain.[10]

BLM UK has made an additional crucial connection between racial-imperialism and environmental destruction. While rich nations like Britain are the main polluters, those worst impacted by climate change live in the ‘developing’ world. In 2016, during its protest to stop flights at London City airport, BLM UK pointed out how air pollution in Britain disproportionately affects working-class black communities, while again relating this local situation to a global imperialist reality:

The inequalities that turn an extreme weather event into a disaster or human catastrophe mirror the inequalities that cause the disproportionate loss of black and poor life globally – and the exact systems that Black Lives Matter fights against. … [And] due to rising global inequality – that remains part of the legacy of imperialism and colonialism, and part of the present reality of globalisation and capitalism – we also know that the resources required to respond to climate change’s impact are often not placed in the hands of the people who need them most.

The revived anti-imperialism of BLM UK poses a vital corrective to the narrow nationalism of the British left-wing mainstream. As black radicals themselves pointed out in the sixties and seventies, the parochialism of the British labour movement came at a price. While white workers immediately benefit from relative privileges vis-à-vis workers of colour (and have often been complicit in reproducing structural racism), they are still exploited, and have been negatively impacted by the diversion of intensifying class-based grievances into the imperial nostalgia that suffused the Brexit referendum. There is a particular need for the left to champion the incisive politics of intersectional anti-imperialism, pioneered by the black women’s movement, in order to understand how global capital circuits overdetermine the racially-gendered contours of anti-blackness, Islamophobia and ‘xenoracism’ in Britain today.

* While BLM UK itself did not call for protests due to the context of the COVID-19 viral pandemic, it has stated that it stands in solidarity with them, and is working to help BLM demonstrators “to protest in a way that is safe for them, as well as for our communities”.

Alfie Hancox writes about socialist and anti-imperialist movements. This article is based on his MA(Res) thesis on British Black Power.

Endnotes

[1] Claudia Jones, “The Caribbean Community in Britain”, in Carole Boyce Davies (ed.), Claudia Jones: Beyond Containment: Autobiographical Reflections, Essays and Poems (Banbury, Oxfordshire: Ayebia Clarke Publishing Ltd, 2011): 175.

[2] Jodi Burkett, Constructing Post-Imperial Britain: Britishness, ‘Race’ and the Radical Left in the 1960s (Basingstoke, Hampshire: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013): 70.

[3] Walter Rodney, How Europe Underdeveloped Africa (London: Verso, 2018).

[4] Ambalavaner Sivanandan, A Different Hunger: Writings on Black Resistance (London: Pluto Press, 1991): 39-40.

[5] Anandi Ramamurthy, Black Star: Britain’s Asian Youth Movements (London: Pluto Press, 2013): 103.

[6] John Narayan, “British Black Power: The Anti-Imperialism of Political Blackness and the Problem of Nativist Socialism”, The Sociological Review 67, no. 5 (September 2019): 956.

[7] Ibid.: 961.

[8] Quoted in Hazel Carby, “White Woman Listen! Black Feminism and the Boundaries of Sisterhood”, in Centre for Contemporary Cultural Studies, The Empire Strikes Back: Race and Racism in 70’s Britain (London: Routledge, 1994): 219-20.

[9] Julia Sudbury, ‘Other Kinds of Dreams’: Black Women’s Organisations and the Politics of Transformation (London: Routledge, 1998): 79.

[10] Douglas E. Sanders, “377 And the Unnatural Afterlife of British Colonialism in Asia”, Asian Journal of Comparative Law 4 (2009): 1–49.