Abstract

In Chapter 2 of their book, Craggs and Neate provide the reader with a vivid account of the somewhat blasé and self-assured character of the colonial construction of geography in African universities. The reader is brought front row to view the power of the ‘free to be’ white male geographer (with his wife silent but supportive in the bakground) who moves across spaces uninhibited by class, race, or politics, prevailing whichever direction the campus faces – shaping, forming, and setting the agenda for Geography in its new places. The plight of Geography in African universities is shaped in this account by the whim and celebrated adventurism of this geographer, an attitude that in one instance in the book elevates what would turn out to be a pretender in the form of W.J (Bill) Varley to lead the establishment of Geography at what later became the University of Ghana. In this instance the trust placed by the colonial infrastructure in the white male to go out into the world as a pioneer of intellectualism follows the same playbook that saw settlers, missionaries, and tradesmen governing colonies with no experience in leadership whatsoever but the classic and relied upon motivation to pioneer ‘for King and country’. The authors’ decision to use biographical and archived data to paint this picture brought the developments and characters shared in this book to life in a way no other method possibly could have. The protagonists of geography's colonial formation ‘came alive’ and their motivations, frustrations, and impacts on their world along with them.
Most riveting about this chapter is learning about the inner workings and political reach of the British Higher education system regarding shaping the future of what would be Britain's former colonies. The formation, construction, and staffing of the Asquith universities as a determined styling of some version of Oxbridgeness by way of a ‘special relationship’ with the University College London provides fascinating insight into how the British colonial system structured itself to endure long past the existence of its colonies by establishing perpetual appeal to the ideals of the colonial design. Powerfully positioned at the heart of Empire in Britain, Robert Steel and R.O. Buchanan inserted and entrenched British colonial elitism at Asquith universities by often casually appointing agreeable associates to key positions of university establishment. Oxbridgeness, it would appear, would be transferred by virtue of a murky dance between merit and appointments reminiscent of classic colonial cronyism.
The perspective of the British geographer as a single-minded pioneer is shaped and sustained by the considerable authority wielded by figures such as Steel and Buchanan. In the context of the early development of geography departments within African universities, it is this power that enables British geographers to approach their new environments with a sense of entitlement and self-assuredness. The influence of Steel and Buchanan does not merely facilitate the placement of these men in academic roles; it actively constructs a narrative in which their actions are validated and even celebrated as pioneering. This dynamic fosters an atmosphere where the colonial British geographer's interpretation of his role and relationship to the local context is guided less by sensitivity or collaboration, and more by the legacy and expectations set by the institutional power holders who paved the way for him. And so it happens that even when inspired by dreams of intellectual rigour and freedom with the hopes of liberating their people, Africa's British-educated elites are rewarded by the commencement of an enduring colonial project as the behaviours and movements of British colonialism emerge not to grab physical territory this time, but to grab the terms of current and future intellectual development in their countries.
Craggs and Neate crucially reveal to the reader how the colonial production of geography in place depended on cultural production of class based on racial lines. They provide significant detail in the othering of black bodies in the white male's geographic space, showing in some instances how even social spaces, though not distinctly based on racial access, produced and reinforced norms of separate existence between white and black geographers: class in this instance conferred and reproduced by race and not accomplishment. Without needing to be told, black geographers seemingly knew that even the social spaces created by their white colleagues in their departments were not meant for them. They were merely an extension of the elitist exclusive nature of existence that the white male geographer and his family since arriving in Africa had been afforded by Steel and Buchanan all the way in London. In one example, the silent unspoken lines drawn between the races come to a head when a white male colleague arrives at a departmental dress party wearing Yoruba traditional garments at the University of Ibadan, much to the disapproval of his black Nigerian colleagues. The seeming benevolence of Steel and Buchanan to shape the development of geography and to advance intellectualism in Africa effectively colonised geography as a discipline and set black geographers on a difficult uphill trajectory where besides fighting colonialism proper in the struggle for the liberation of their countries, they would now have to fight to decolonise geography in its formal and social manifestations in place in their departments.
A striking feature of this chapter is how it raises a mirror to the modern black African/Caribbean/British experience of geography in the UK as privileged white place. To this geographer, and possibly others elsewhere where British colonialism reached, this chapter will feel like a ‘looking glass into the past explaining the present’, almost helping you understand why being in Geography so often feels so much like you’re ‘not meant to be here’. The weight of the racial history of geography as a discipline as it plays out in the formation of geography departments in Asquith universities feels well-explained and familiar to the corridors of geography at British universities, especially in the roles that Steel and Buchanan play in shaping these departments and how this becomes sometimes unknowingly reproduced and expressed unto Black geographers by white colleagues in these departments. For both these men to be based in the UK and chairing or influencing virtually every known Board of significance in geography, it is no wonder that geography in the UK often feels the way it does for most black geographers, making you constantly want ‘to find your own place’ whichever way possible in the discipline. Following this thread, the chapter lays bare the privilege of white male geographers to be recognised as knowledge producers, something that other genders and races are rarely afforded in the discipline. Craggs and Neate cite the experience of Akin Magobunje accompanying British lecturer Mansell Prothero to Zaria in Nigeria as a Research Assistant on a land-use survey project in the early 1950s as a case in point. On encountering British civil servants with whom Prothero was to have discussions, Magobunje was not welcome to the sitting room where the discussions took place and so walked out. Even as far back as the early 1950s, a black geographer experienced how regardless of his experience and his value as a geographer, Geography was still not his(sic) place and he(sic) would have to struggle to find it, even in his(sic) own country.
And so the historical process of Africanising Geography in decolonialisation begins in Chapter 3 where Craggs and Neate provide a rich account of just how difficult it was to establish a truly African identity of geography in the 1960s. The authors provide details of the rubber-stamping nature of the British Higher Education system regarding the recognition of black African geographers as learned colleagues in the discipline and therefore worthy of leading its growth in their home countries. While British universities provide this recognition of the research abilities of African academics, these academics take it upon themselves to use their British education as a platform towards the decolonisation of geography in a uniquely African way. They do this by retaining their passion for Africa throughout their studies in the UK and staying focused on transferring their new knowledge back to the continent as soon as they complete their degrees. However, the process of truly transforming their home universities encounters the overwhelming power of the larger political liberation movements and nationalists who have a specific interest in the design and practise of academic institutions post-colonialism which do not necessarily align with the way these intellectuals and the African institutions themselves evolve the discipline of geography. In this account the authors show the reader just how nuanced and difficult the process of Africanising Geography in decolonisation was especially due to the lingering power and structure of the colonial design of geography in the departments in the various Asquith universities and its clashes with African nationalism of the 1960s.
While the Africanisation of Geography in decolonisation is shown to have been epistemologically debatable to some, Craggs and Neate point to the importance of effectively ‘shaking the discipline’ and in Ngũgĩ’ Wa Thiongo's terms ‘shifting the centre’ of inquiry of Geography to an Africa-focused way of viewing the world. Achieving this through the staffing of Geography departments with African geographers, through the increase in recruitment of undergraduate and postgraduate students as universities expanded the sizes of departments and courses on offer, and through the reform of subjects of academic material to be Africa-focused, Craggs and Neate show that the ‘Winds of Change’ so often used to describe political developments in Africa during the 1960s–70s were not just limited to the activities of politicians. Universities saw these Winds blow through their corridors too with the formation of new African identities both in form and in ethos. This chapter shows how the decolonial project will not be as smooth as perhaps some may wish it to be. Like all systemic changes, transforming deep-rooted practices and attitudes in decolonising geography will take significant and coordinated efforts across geographies between aligned advocates for change. Africanising Geography in decolonisation is presented as imperfect, painful, but impactful; a descriptive account of what to expect as decolonial activities continue in increasingly unpredictable times. An important takeaway therefore is that progress towards decolonising Geography in university institutions requires inspired leadership by those desirous of this change. Established systems take time to be transformed, but being deliberate and getting started are both incredibly crucial if we hope to see any change.
Footnotes
Funding
The author received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
