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Farooq Kperogi: What Trump’s comeback may mean for Africa

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4 weeks ago

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Farooq Kperogi

Farooq Kperogi: What Trump’s comeback may mean for Africa

A few weeks ago, I spoke at a symposium in my university here in Georgia on the implications of the U.S. presidential election for the African diaspora. To the bemusement of my audience (who were a mix of Donald Trump and Kamala Harris supporters), I explained the curious phenomenon of African support for Donald Trump, particularly among Nigerian and Kenyan evangelicals.

I described how a surprising number of African Christians (and, in fact, some Muslims) consider Trump “God’s chosen one,” a valiant defender of conservative religious values whom they imagine will take on global LGBTQ rights with righteous vengeance.

The audience was incredulous and struggled to reconcile Trump’s infamous moral transgressions with his appeal to African conservatives. When I explained that these supporters see Trump as a warrior against the “cultural liberalism” they believe threatens their faith, eyebrows raised.

The eyebrows raised even further when I pointed out that there are Muslims who are so disillusioned with the Biden/Harris administration’s support for Israel that they prayed for a Trump win even when Trump is more manifestly hawkish than Biden/Harris and so disdains Muslims that he enacted a “Muslim ban” (which actually included non-Muslims) within the first few months of his first presidency.

But here’s the crux: Donald Trump is no more interested in religious morality than he is in the theological reveries of his African fan base. He is, in truth, a transactional man, a walking paradox of deals and calculations, utterly bereft of the very spiritual or moral foundation his African supporters so naively project onto him.

Trump’s “faith,” such as it is, is at best a performance, an asset to be deployed for strategic gains among America’s own conservative Christians, whom he has calculatedly courted for votes. To imagine Trump as the champion of conservative religious values is to mistake calculation for conviction and propaganda for principle.

His record speaks louder than his rhetoric. In 2015, for example, at a gathering of conservative Christians in Iowa, he openly admitted he never asks God for forgiveness, a theological anathema for any believer.

Later, on the campaign trail, he betrayed his biblical unfamiliarity, when he clumsily referred to “Two Corinthians” rather than the more common “Second Corinthians.” A slip of the tongue, perhaps, but in a subsequent interview, he tried to salvage his Christian credibility but ended up quoting a verse that doesn’t even exist: “Never bend to envy,” he offered, an adage Christians say is found nowhere in the Bible.

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Even when cornered about his favorite Bible verse, he misfired by citing “an eye for an eye,” a command Jesus explicitly repudiated. These are not the errors of a deeply religious man but the floundering of someone who considers faith a tool, not a calling.

Two Trump biographers sum up his attitude to Christianity and God nicely. Timothy O’Brien, in a 2007 book titled TrumpNation: The Art of Being Donald, wrote: “Donald has never been a spiritually or religiously serious person.”

And in 2001 book titled The Trumps: Three Generations That Built an Empire (which was revised and reissued as The Trumps: Three Generations of Builders and a President), Gwenda Blair wrote: “He’s a transactional guy with humans, and it’s no different with God — it’s all about whatever is to his advantage with regard to his supporters, and referencing God is exactly and only that.”

Yet for all his transparent artifice, Trump has nonetheless cast a beguiling spell on certain parts of Africa and the African diaspora, who see in him a savior of conservative values. They seem unfazed by the fact that his administration’s policies, his rhetoric, and his track record show little regard for Black humanity.

This disdain was palpable during his last tenure, and his recent rallies have done nothing to dispel it. Take, for instance, his unfounded claim during the first and only presidential debate that Black Haitian immigrants in Springfield, Ohio, were eating cats and dogs, a baseless assertion that isn’t just false but revelatory: it reveals a mind committed to degrading Blackness wherever he sees it.

There’s a dark and disheartening history here. Trump’s disdain for Black people isn’t new, nor has it emerged from thin air. His bigotry is old news, woven through an embroidery of disparaging comments, discriminatory practices, and racially motivated policies dating back decades.

In 1973, the Department of Justice sued Trump for refusing to rent apartments to Black families, citing his blatant violation of the Fair Housing Act. He fought the case before reluctantly signing an agreement to stop his racist practices.

His remarks afterward? He railed that the government was forcing him to rent to “welfare recipients,” the vile code by which he aligned poverty with Blackness. The sentiment was clear: in his mind, Black people didn’t belong, and it was his duty to keep them out.

Such is Trump’s enduring perspective, made all the more alarming by his political ascendance. The implications of his return for Africa are both direct and symbolic. During his previous presidency, Trump cut aid programs that many African countries rely on and dismissed African immigrants as a detriment to American society.

His rhetoric went beyond mere words; his policies made a statement, a policy posture that informed his supporters, shaped the broader narrative around Black immigration, and foreshadowed his now-infamous “shithole countries” comment in 2018.

When Trump disparaged Haiti, Nigeria, and other Black-majority nations in favor of immigration from Norway, it wasn’t just a one-off gaffe; it was a worldview rooted in negrophobic disdain.
In truth, Trump has never reckoned with the humanity of Black people. Even before his “shithole countries” remark, he lambasted a Black accountant in 1991, citing “laziness as a trait in Blacks.”

Years later, during his 2016 campaign, he praised Ann Coulter’s venomously xenophobic book, which decried the arrival of Nigerians in the United States as a criminal invasion.

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His decision to block the appointment of Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala, a Nigerian-American, to lead the World Trade Organization in 2020, was yet another evidence of his disregard for Black excellence—American citizenship or no.

This is not a man whose opinions have been shaped by reasoned disagreement but by ingrained prejudice and an unwavering belief that Black lives, both within and outside of America, are lesser. Such a man at the helm of one of the world’s most powerful nations isn’t just a potential diplomatic nightmare; it’s a moral catastrophe for those who value the dignity of human life.

For Africa, the implications of a Trump resurgence are manifold. His approach to immigration alone could lead to increased restrictions on Africans seeking opportunity or refuge in the United States.

His contempt for Africans doesn’t only taint those who seek to immigrate but extends to those who remain. His willingness to denigrate entire nations with his vile language reinforces a global view of Africa as “the other,” a place he deemed too backward to deserve respect or dignify.

But Trump’s leadership affects more than just immigration. His previous administration gutted health programs that African nations relied on to tackle AIDS, malaria, and other epidemics. His withdrawal from multilateral agreements and climate initiatives destabilized African countries that disproportionately suffer from the effects of global warming and benefit the least from its economic causes.

Africa is neither immune to nor shielded from Trump’s reign. From economic pressures to ideological disrespect, his contempt manifests as policies that undermine progress and sow the seeds of isolationism.

For Africans, Trump’s victory isn’t just a foreign policy issue; it’s a personal affront. It’s a slap in the face to the millions of Africans who know America as a country that historically symbolized freedom, opportunity, and hope.

Africa’s bond with the United States transcends politics; it is the memory of independence movements supported by the promise of democracy, the aspiration for economic opportunity, and the reverence for cultural exchange. Trump’s worldview, with its utter disregard for Black humanity, threatens to erode this bond, leaving in its wake a continent left to question its ties with the West.

The challenge before Africa is to use this moment as an opportunity for unity and self-determination.

Trump’s contempt is an ugly mirror, a stark reminder that Africa cannot rely on foreign validation. Leaders and citizens alike must demand dignity, both in their interactions with the United States and in their own national narratives.

The message should be clear: Africa is neither a pawn nor a supplicant. It is a continent rich in resources, diversity, and human potential, undeserving of the scorn Trump so freely dispenses.

Trump’s victory may symbolize a return to darkness, but it is also an opportunity to galvanize resilience. Africa need not waste energy on a man who cannot see beyond his prejudice; instead, it should look to the future with resolve.

Africa’s destiny lies not in the hands of a foreign leader, and certainly not in one so blind to its humanity. Let his disdain be a rallying cry, not for despair, but for Africa to rise on its own terms.

Farooq Kperogi: What Trump’s comeback may mean for Africa

Farooq Kperogi is a renowned Nigerian columnist and United States-based Professor of Media Studies. 

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Farooq Kperogi: Petrol is cheaper in Atlanta than in Nigeria

Published

1 week ago

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November 30, 2024

By

Farooq Kperogi

Farooq Kperogi: Petrol is cheaper in Atlanta than in Nigeria

This week, as I refueled my car, I couldn’t help but be struck by the sharp contrast between petrol prices here in Metro Atlanta and in Nigeria.

In Metro Atlanta, fuel prices hover at $2.70 per gallon, which is equivalent to around 67 cents per liter. (Four liters make up a gallon.) Translating this into naira reveals a stark discrepancy.

At the current exchange rate of 1,647 naira to the dollar, a gallon of petrol in Atlanta equates to approximately 5,200 naira or 1,102 naira per liter. That’s astonishingly cheaper than Nigeria’s prevailing rate of around 1,300 naira per liter.

This disparity grows even more troubling in light of the wildly differential minimum wage standards between Nigeria and the United States. In the United States, the federal minimum wage is $7.25 per hour, which amounts to roughly $1,200 a month. Converted into naira, this comes to nearly 1,974,000 (one million, nine hundred and seventy four thousand) naira.

Note that almost no one earns the minimum wage. Even the lowest remunerated workers here earn above the minimum wage. For example, my 16-year-old daughter who works at an entertainment restaurant chain on weekends earns $13 an hour.

Meanwhile, the federal minimum wage in Nigeria is a piddling 70,000 naira, or around $42.55. In other words, Nigerians with a minimum wage of 70,000 per month pay a higher rate at the pump than Atlantans with a minimum wage of 1.9 million naira per month.

When one presents these figures, defenders of past and present Nigerian regimes— and clueless, stonyhearted neoliberal evangelists— often argue that it’s fruitless to compare Nigeria with the United States, the world’s largest economy.

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Yet, it’s worth noting that the U.S. does not indulge in the luxuries afforded to Nigeria’s ruling political elites. For instance, while American presidents pay for their own meals, including the meals of their guests, Nigeria allocates billions for the upkeep of its first families.

Such contrasts illustrate not merely economic differences but also the broader question of public accountability and fiscal priorities.

In much of the developed world, government subsidies for fuel are deemed vital, particularly where public transport systems are not robust. In the U.S., for example, state governments sometimes provide targeted subsidies to cushion residents from high fuel prices.

The lower fuel prices in America are facilitated by state subsidies aimed at counterbalancing a lack of comprehensive public transit options, as is the case in Western Europe.

For instance, the governor of Georgia, Governor Brian Kemp, recently decided to suspend fuel taxes in Georgia following Hurricane Helene, which temporarily reduced petrol prices to around $2.50 per gallon. This is typical all over the United States.

The Center for Investigative Reporting found that the true cost of petrol in the United States is $15 per gallon, that is, $3.75 per liter. Converted into naira, that would amount to 24,648.90 naira per gallon or 6,162.23 naira per liter. But the average pump price of petrol in the United States is $3.16 per gallon.

(Gas prices can vary greatly within each state, with Texas having the lowest price of $2.669 per gallon and California the highest price at $4.68 per gallon. Note that California’s minimum wage is more than twice the federal minimum wage at $16.00 an hour.)

Americans don’t pay the actual cost of petrol because their state governments spend billions to subsidize their petrol consumption. According to the IMF, which has demonized fuel subsidies in the developing world, compelled governments to remove subsidies, and recruited scorn-worthy traitors to brainwash poor people into accepting that subsidies are bad for them, the United States spent $757 billion in fossil fuel subsidies in 2022 alone.

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Globally, the IMF said, “subsidies surged to a record $7 trillion [in 2022] as governments supported consumers and businesses during the global spike in energy prices caused by Russia’s invasion of Ukraine and the economic recovery from the pandemic.” That represents 7 percent of global GDP.

U.S. state governments spent a significant sum on fuel subsidies, largely as part of measures to alleviate the impact of elevated energy costs. These measures included gas tax holidays, direct consumer grants, and discounts, aiming to shield residents from the global surge in fuel prices following supply disruptions caused by international events like the Ukraine crisis.

These interventions illustrate the fiscal lengths governments are willing to go to stabilize fuel costs for their citizens amid economic challenges.

Countries as diverse as Egypt and Indonesia have similarly leveraged fuel subsidies to maintain price stability, alleviate poverty, and stimulate their economies. These examples illuminate a fundamental principle that subsidies, when properly managed, can serve as powerful tools to bridge income disparities and invigorate economic growth.

But not in Nigeria. Nigerians face relentless economic strain despite residing in an oil-producing nation. It’s a country where, somehow, people have been persuaded by a sophisticated mob of well-compensated spin doctors that exorbitant fuel prices are an unavoidable reality to which they must resign themselves.

For a resource-rich nation, which is also among the poorest globally, this is a bitter, disconcerting irony.

Those who denounce subsidies as inefficacious or detrimental often betray a limited understanding of their societal role, or worse, they may advocate for policies that consolidate wealth at the top.

In societies grappling with inequality, subsidies can mean the difference between bare survival and a modest but dignified life for millions.

To disparage such measures, particularly in a nation with profound economic inequalities, is to endorse a vision of society that is untenably divided—and to invite criticism that should rightly be directed not only toward them but, if you’ll pardon the expression, toward the legacy of those who espouse such values.

It is a grave irony, and a deeply unjust one, that the people of Nigeria — a nation abundantly blessed with oil wealth — must endure petrol prices that surpass those of Atlanta, a city in one of the world’s richest nations. This, while the average Nigerian subsists on a minimum wage of approximately $43 a month, a pittance that could scarcely fill a tank, let alone sustain a family.

The removal of petrol subsidies is not merely an economic policy; it is a sentence handed down to the already struggling, forcing countless Nigerians to choose between transportation, sustenance, and survival. The ripple effects are evident in unchecked inflation spirals, faltering businesses, and tragic loss of lives in the wake of avoidable hardship.

To govern is to protect, to prioritize the well-being of the many over the convenience of the few. To abandon subsidies under the guise of fiscal responsibility while the vulnerable teeter on the edge of despair is neither responsible nor just. It is, instead, an abdication of moral duty.

President Tinubu should restore the subsidies minus the corruption, not as a concession, but as an obligation to the people he is obligated to serve. To do so is not to admit defeat but to affirm humanity, to wield governance as a tool of compassion rather than austerity.

After all, what use is a nation’s wealth if it is not deployed in the service of its citizens? Let Nigeria’s oil be a blessing once more, not a bitter reminder of inequalities entrenched and lives disregarded.

Farooq Kperogi : Petrol is cheaper in Atlanta than in Nigeria

Farooq Kperogi is a renowned columnist and United States-based Professor of Journalism. 

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What NNPCL staff revealed about reported revival of PH Refinery – Farooq Kperogi

Published

1 week ago

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November 29, 2024

By

Farooq Kperogi

What NNPCL staff revealed about reported revival of PH Refinery – Farooq Kperogi

Renowned Nigerian columnist and US-based professor, Farooq Kperogi, has linked the reported revival of the Port Harcourt Refinery and the ill-fated launch of Nigerian Air.

In a social media post on Thursday, Kperogi shared his findings after attempting to fact-check claims that the refinery had resumed operations and was producing petrol.

Seeking clarity, Kperogi said he reached out to a friend with expertise in the oil industry, who in turn consulted a staff member of the Nigerian National Petroleum Company Limited (NNPCL).

“The Port Harcourt Refinery guy responded with a single, devastatingly eloquent gesture: he sent him a picture of Nigerian Air,” Kperogi wrote, leaving readers to interpret the cryptic reply.

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The comparison to Nigerian Air resonates with the controversy surrounding its much-celebrated launch, which was later revealed to be a façade as the aircraft returned to Ethiopian Airlines.

Reflecting on the situation, Kperogi remarked, “Reader, I think we both know the translation: dreams may take flight, but some never leave the runway.”

He concluded on a somber note, suggesting that continued optimism about Nigeria’s progress may require an extraordinary tolerance for disappointment: “At this rate, to not give up on Nigeria is to be a masochist with a superabundant love for perpetual emotional self-flagellation.”

The post has sparked a wave of reactions, with many questioning the authenticity of the refinery’s reported revival.

 

What NNPCL staff revealed about reported revival of PH Refinery – Farooq Kperogi

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Farooq Kperogi: One president, many spokesmen, and mixed messages amid misery

Published

2 weeks ago

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November 23, 2024

By

Farooq Kperogi

Farooq Kperogi: One president, many spokesmen, and mixed messages amid misery

President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s unparalleled appointment of three official, cabinet-level spokesmen—in addition to 9 other senior media aides— symptomizes an insidious governmental malaise. It shows a government that is obsessed with public relations at the expense of public welfare, propaganda at the expense of progress, and mind management at the expense of meaningful management.

On November 14, Daniel Bwala, the former mouthpiece for PDP’s Atiku Abubakar during the last presidential campaign, was inaugurated as Tinubu’s Special Adviser on Media and Public Communication. This move added him to a line-up that already included Bayo Onanuga, Special Adviser on Information and Strategy, who had been informally recognized as the senior spokesperson after Ajuri Ngelale’s dramatic exit, and Sunday Dare, Special Adviser to the President on Public Communication and National Orientation.

Yet, on his very first day, October 18, Bwala brazenly declared himself “the spokesman for the president” to State House correspondents, proclaiming that he was the direct successor to Ngelale. His Twitter declaration further cemented his self-anointment: “Resumed officially as the Special Adviser, Media and Public Communications/Spokesperson (State House).”

Since Onanuga had effectively functioned as the spokesman for the president after Ngelale was forced out of the Presidential Villa, it seemed like Tinubu had no confidence in Onanuga and chose to upstage him by bringing in Bwala.

That puzzled me. I wondered what reputational, symbolic, or political capital Bwala had to earn such an edge. Here’s a man who is deeply resented by Tinubu supporters for his erstwhile caustic attacks on the president and APC during the last election, who is reviled by the opposition for his perceived treachery and mercenariness, and who is disdained by people who couldn’t care less about both Tinubu and the opposition. Such a person is more of a reputational liability than an asset for persuasion.

So it came as no surprise when I read a swift news release from Bayo Onanuga disclaiming Bwala’s self-description as “the spokesperson” for the president. TheCable of November 19 reported that Tinubu was “furious on learning of Bwala’s manoeuvre and immediately instructed Onanuga to issue a clarification.”

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The “clarification” says Bwala is now Special Adviser Policy Communication and Sunday Dare is now Special Adviser, Media and Public Communications. “These appointments, along with the existing role of Special Adviser, Information and Strategy, underscore that there is no single individual spokesperson for the Presidency. Instead, all the three Special Advisers will collectively serve as spokespersons for the government,” the statement said.

Tinubu has by far the largest media team in Nigeria’s history—just like he has the largest cabinet in Nigeria’s history. Yet his government has inflicted the most hardship on Nigeria and demands the greatest sacrifice from Nigerians whom he has already stripped of basic welfare and dignity.

Despite this elaborate roster of media professionals, Tinubu’s government stands as a paradox: the most expansive communication team in Nigerian history, yet the most tone-deaf administration in addressing the agonies of ordinary Nigerians. Like his record-breaking cabinet size, his communication machinery seems less about functionality and more about optics—a poorly orchestrated façade against the backdrop of deepening national suffering.

Historically, Nigerian presidents have managed with far leaner communication teams. President Olusegun Obasanjo had a relatively modest media and communications team. His first spokesperson was Doyin Okupe, who was designated as Special Assistant on Media and Publicity from 1999 to 2000.

He was succeeded by Tunji Oseni whose designation was changed to Senior Special Assistant on Media and Publicity and served in that role from 2000 to 2003. He was replaced by Remi Oyo from 2003 until 2007.

Apart from these official spokespeople, Obasanjo appointed Dr. Stanley Macebuh as Senior Special Assistant on Public Communications. After firing him, he replaced him with Emmanuel Arinze.

He also appointed Femi Fani-Kayode as Special Assistant on Public Affairs and replaced him with Uba Sani after elevating him to a minister. In other words, Obasanjo never had more than three media/communications people at any one time, and he always had just one official spokesperson.

Umaru Musa Yar’Adua’s had Olusegun Adeniyi as his one and only media person/spokesperson. He is also on record as the first president to elevate the position to a cabinet-level position by redesignating as a “Special Adviser” position.

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Goodluck Jonathan sustained this tradition. When Ima Niboro was his Special Adviser on Media and Publicity from 2010 to 2011, he had no other media/communications person. And when Reuben Abati took over from Niboro from 2011 to 2015, he was the only spokesperson and media/communications person for the president.

The slide into a propagandocracy began with Muhammadu Buhari, who doubled down on PR appointments. While Femi Adesina served as his Special Adviser on Media and Publicity, Garba Shehu operated as Senior Special Assistant on Media and Publicity. Buhari’s entourage also included social media mavens, photographers, and digital content creators—an unprecedented escalation in spin management.

There was Tolu Ogunlesi (Special Assistant, Digital & New Media); Lauretta Onochie (Personal Assistant, Social Media); Bashir Ahmad (Personal Assistant, New media); Sha’aban Sharada (Personal Assistant, Broadcast Media); Naziru Muhammed (Personal Assistant, TV Documentary); Sunday Aghaeze (Personal Assistant, Photography); and Bayo Omoboriowo (Personal Assistant/ President’s Photographer).

But Tinubu has taken this expansion to absurd heights. Apart from three cabinet-level official spokespersons, you also have Tunde Rahman (Senior Special Assistant to the President — Media); Abdulaziz Abdulaziz (Senior Special Assistant to the President — Print Media); O’tega Ogra (Senior Special Assistant (Digital/New Media); Tope Ajayi – Senior Special Assistant (Media & Public Affairs); Segun Dada (Special Assistant — Social Media); Nosa Asemota – Special Assistant (Visual Communication); Mr Fredrick Nwabufo (Senior Special Assistant to the President — Public Engagement); Mrs Linda Nwabuwa Akhigbe (Senior Special Assistant to the President — Strategic Communications); and Mr Aliyu Audu (Special Assistant to the President — Public Affairs).

Such bloated extravagance sends a disconcerting message about the administration’s priorities during a time of profound economic hardship.

In a March 4, 2017 column titled “Propagandocracy and the Buhari Media Center,” I pointed out that the size of a government’s propaganda apparatus is often inversely proportional to its confidence in its own legitimacy. Tinubu’s indulgence in this over-the-top PR operation signals two troubling realities: insecurity and incoherence.

The insecurity stems from an acute awareness of its own fragility—an administration desperate to control the narrative because it knows it has failed to deliver on substantive governance. The incoherence arises from the cacophony of voices in this unwieldy structure, breeding contradictions, turf wars, and conflicting messages. How can a government unable to synchronize its internal communication hope to connect with its citizens?

At its core, Tinubu’s sprawling PR machine is emblematic of an administration focused on perception management rather than problem-solving. This gluttonous obsession with propaganda, in the midst of soaring inflation, subsidy removals, and austerity measures, is an affront to struggling Nigerians.

Leadership demands more than just the appearance of competence; it demands action. Until Tinubu shifts his focus from multiplying spokespersons to delivering substantive governance, his legacy risks being that of a leader who built a fortress of spin while the people languished outside its gates.

Farooq Kperogi : One president, many spokesmen, and mixed messages amid misery

 

Farooq Kperogi is a renowned Nigerian columnist and United States-based Professor of Journalism. 

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