There are no saviours out there
As COP27 approaches, Africa needs to look within
I work for a non-profit whose mission is to advance clean energy solutions globally. We have a programme to scale productive uses of renewable energy in rural agrarian communities in Nigeria — that’s just a fancy way of saying we’re trying to get farmers to process their crops with machines powered by solar energy, and make more money. ‘Why solar?’, you might ask. The communities we’re working in actually already have electricity available from solar mini-grid systems that were built with government and donor support. The locals aren’t really using much of the electricity though, either because it’s too expensive or their consumption levels are too low. ‘Productive use of energy’ appliances would ideally enable them to use the available energy to improve a previously-inefficient economic activity. For example, rather than have family members spend hours hitting sacks full of corn cobs with sticks to separate the grain, they’d use an electric thresher that does this way faster (a video for the curious). Anyway, I digress…
There is a cluster of rice-farming communities in Niger state where we were hoping to introduce small electric rice mills, so the farmers can sell high-quality processed rice that fetches a higher price at the market. The status quo when such communities don’t have access to mills is to sell rice paddy (unprocessed rice) to aggregators and middlemen that tend to exploit them by underpricing their produce. We’re at the point where the mills are almost ready to be transported, so I contacted our local partner to check on our progress with prepping the community members that are to receive them. The news he shared was demoralising.
“It’s not even a good time to discuss with the farmers. Many of them are in tears and deep pain. Money wasted, debt increased…
We can do all the prep work but will have to defer implementing till things are better”
Nigeria has recently experienced devastating floods across at 33 of its 36 states including Niger, but most notably in its northernmost regions. Weeks of torrential downpour have submerged entire villages, destroyed property and farmlands, and forced inhabitants to flee for their safety. Government and news reports have put the death toll at 372 people with more injured, and over half a million more affected. Many of the devastated villages are agrarian; both their families and local food markets rely on what they grow every year, so the crops that were lost in the floods have made food shortages imminent. With the Russia-Ukraine conflict already disrupting food and fertiliser exports, and raising prices, this disaster will only fuel further food scarcity and inflation. These floods are being labelled as the worst in over half a century, and although the communities are oblivious on why they have suffered so, there is near-consensus from agriculture and environmental experts on who the culprit is… climate change.
Whenever a devastating natural disaster occurs somewhere in the world, a slew of ‘I thought they said climate change isn’t real’ commentary oh-so-briefly overtakes all else on social media platforms. Those who are climate believers fervently tweet about the need for us to take urgent action to save our children’s futures. Ironically, leaders who can actually make a difference tweet too — although it’s a wonder why this rarely translates in the decisions they make. A smaller and, fortunately, shrinking audience of dissenters rebuff their assertions and prefer to focus on the technicalities of whether individual events can be attributed to climate change.
I always find the response from Africa-affiliated individuals curious. In recent years, commentary has pivoted from climate change is a rich man’s problem to Africa isn’t responsible for climate change, why should we pay to address it? I don’t entirely disagree with either of those sentiments, but I can’t help but feel they’re a waste of time given the scale of the challenge we are already facing. Today, we’re seeing climate change impacts in the hectares flooded, tonnes of food lost, property destroyed, and people displaced. The economic consequences are obvious. What is less apparent is the ways these climate change impacts will facilitate societal breakdown, of which there are many.
Reeling from the harvest losses he made this season, the farmer who had begrudgingly agreed to send his daughter to school will now marry her off to ease his household burdens. The future she was going to have and the opportunities it would’ve afforded, now lost. The men that lost their homes and property in storms now face the bleakness of trying to fend for a family without shelter. Perhaps they run away or resort to criminality — either way we now have a family broken or a community less safe. The displaced women — often more vulnerable and less-skilled or educated — unable to fend for themselves to the same extent as displaced men, resort to sexwork. An entire nomadic tribe, faced with shrinking pastureland, venture into other tribal strongholds to graze their animals and clash with locals. Ethnic conflicts intensify and polarise a nation. Droughts force children, especially young girls, to walk increasingly long distances in search of water, leaving them exposed to many perils. Food and water scarcity lead to malnourished mothers, difficult childbirths, and babies that never make it to adulthood.
One may argue that most of the scenarios I have described are hypotheticals. But as a continent, Africa has seen such dire outcomes after extreme weather events through the decades. Bringing it back to my current project in Nigeria, floods have now precluded entire communities from getting access to new agricultural equipment that could’ve brought them increased prosperity and reduced the strain they put their bodies through to process crops. Olam Group, which supplies 25% of Nigeria’s rice needs, announced that it lost $20 million of investment in rice production because of the floods, so price hikes will follow to reflect this supply shortage. The starved in Somalia after the droughts in the Horn; the drowned in the floods in Niger; and the buried in the landslides in Uganda are harbingers of a climate changed. In those instances, the affected didn’t just have their futures changed, but taken away entirely.
As a scientist and climate change researcher, I’ve droned on about the physical and economic impacts of climate change… dollar costs of this and percentages in that… Yes, climate change will destroy property and livelihoods, but those can be rebuilt if the right support is available. However, the futures that are lost before that happens can never be restored. The suffering and trauma endured by communities en masse will stay with them even if they regain the lost wealth. For many, the time that rebuilding will take would foreclose many opportunities. Africa’s young generation has already lived through unprecedented economic and political crises — incompetent leadership, runaway inflation, commodity busts, debt crises... The existential nature of climate change dwarfs them all.
As the UN climate change conference (COP27) approaches, African leaders are again clamouring for rich countries to pay for climate action in developing countries. They are forming a common position to demand financing for necessary fossil fuel infrastructure and other climate interventions. This would be no issue — after all, it is only fair that the polluter pays — if we didn't go through this cycle every year, and if most African countries were actually implementing appropriate mitigation and adaptation strategies alongside their calls for justice. Instead, we continue to wait for miracles.
It goes without saying that in the world of nation states, all nation states are equal, but some are more equal than others. Rich countries that rely on fossil fuels for their energy needs, continue to invest in them and, in the same breath, sign pacts to discourage developing countries from doing the same. However, when they realise they need alternative supplies — as we are seeing now with Europe weaning itself off Russian fossil fuels because of the Ukraine war— they are suddenly willing to support projects in Africa. They scoff at the notion of climate reparations, citing common responsibility for the problem. The self-centeredness, inequity and hypocrisy of the West’s decision-making has long been established. So why would moral arguments move them now? Africa’s strategic relevance, for now, isn’t to the extent that it can demand concessions from foreign powers. It’s time to solve our own problems.
