I find myself in an increasingly uncomfortable situation at work these days. On one hand, I'm out there trying to convince folks that Africa is a great place to invest in the brilliant talent building potentially great companies that will create wealth for every participant. On the other hand, I've spent more than three decades of my life living and working on the continent, and in that time, I've seen people get poorer, institutions fall into decay, and politicians become more corrupt by the day.
I didn't grow up wealthy; in fact, looking back, saying I grew up in a lower-middle-class household is a stretch. I grew up on the outskirts of Lagos, knowing what it meant to be poor and deprived of basic amenities and not being able to provide them for myself. The military was in power for the most part of my childhood, and there was the sense that if only they could leave, the country would get better. The '93 elections were a big deal where I grew up, and I remember the jingles, posters, and hope like it was yesterday. I also remember my eyes burning from tear gas used to disperse protests after the elections were canceled. The five years between '93 and '98 felt numb. Outside of the '94 World Cup and the '96 Olympics, there was almost nothing to be excited about. But somehow, everyone hoped. Even when Abacha started his propaganda pushing his eventual transition to democracy, my dad collected the materials and read them. I did too. Even as he killed and detained all his perceived enemies, we all just hoped. We went from kerosene stoves to cooking with coal stoves and firewood, yet we still hoped.
Then the man died. I clearly remember the joy on the streets that day and the weeks following. Finally, all that waiting was over. We were now going to be accepted back into the fold of developing nations on an upward trajectory. People didn't have to leave the country anymore. In fact, they could all now come back. We were going to become a rich nation where everyone would have access to the good life!
You know all of that didn't happen. In fact, along with many other countries on the continent, we've descended into levels of poverty so extreme, economists can't wrap their heads around it. We've expanded the tentacles and branches of corruption, privatized it even. Education is nowhere near the levels of the '90s, let alone the '70s. We are currently experiencing a massive brain drain, and in a few years, many of our institutions will barely have people worthy to be called leaders in any sense of the word. In fact, now one reads Chinua Achebe's "No Longer At Ease" and longs for the 'gentle' decay of those days.
I've heard people say, "But we have mobile phones and, most importantly, the internet. Now we have access to opportunities on a global scale!" That's BS! We've never been more unequal than our peers in the West! Now we just have a front-row seat at the gallery of disappointments. Of course, there'll always be outliers. The people who get those remote jobs at that huge tech company, the entrepreneur who sells his business for a respectable amount of money, the young girl who gets a scholarship abroad applying from her mobile phone. That's the problem right there. The fact that these are outliers. These stories are so far from the norm, we've struggled to get your folks to ignore fraud and pursue a career in tech or some other respectable field.
Okay, let me stop ranting. My point here is that until we figure out a way to drag ourselves out of our current mess as a country and continent, there's going to be no bright future for us as a people and all that hope will be worthless. I love backing founders building in these hard conditions. They're mad optimistic and it's very infectious. But it gets harder every day telling them to just keep building and things will work out in the future. For someone like me who sucks at selling, now picture me trying to convince investors that putting money into the continent is the way to go. Of course, I'm hopeful and optimistic; that's why I make these bets. But I'm also painfully realistic about how things are.
I do a lot of reading on national development and nations pulling out of poverty, and to be honest, we are many, many decades away from national prosperity. And the further we decline, the longer it will take to pull us back.
Most of my thinking on this topic revolves around how we can stop the decline even in the face of passive and corrupt governments. It's hard work, and it doesn't involve setting up a utopian crypto settlement for you and your friends. In his book, Gambling on Development, Stefan Dercon puts it aptly, "There is no one, cost-free path to development." Hopefully, I'll have some clear thoughts to share in due time.
I didn't grow up wealthy; in fact, looking back, saying I grew up in a lower-middle-class household is a stretch. I grew up on the outskirts of Lagos, knowing what it meant to be poor and deprived of basic amenities and not being able to provide them for myself. The military was in power for the most part of my childhood, and there was the sense that if only they could leave, the country would get better. The '93 elections were a big deal where I grew up, and I remember the jingles, posters, and hope like it was yesterday. I also remember my eyes burning from tear gas used to disperse protests after the elections were canceled. The five years between '93 and '98 felt numb. Outside of the '94 World Cup and the '96 Olympics, there was almost nothing to be excited about. But somehow, everyone hoped. Even when Abacha started his propaganda pushing his eventual transition to democracy, my dad collected the materials and read them. I did too. Even as he killed and detained all his perceived enemies, we all just hoped. We went from kerosene stoves to cooking with coal stoves and firewood, yet we still hoped.
Then the man died. I clearly remember the joy on the streets that day and the weeks following. Finally, all that waiting was over. We were now going to be accepted back into the fold of developing nations on an upward trajectory. People didn't have to leave the country anymore. In fact, they could all now come back. We were going to become a rich nation where everyone would have access to the good life!
You know all of that didn't happen. In fact, along with many other countries on the continent, we've descended into levels of poverty so extreme, economists can't wrap their heads around it. We've expanded the tentacles and branches of corruption, privatized it even. Education is nowhere near the levels of the '90s, let alone the '70s. We are currently experiencing a massive brain drain, and in a few years, many of our institutions will barely have people worthy to be called leaders in any sense of the word. In fact, now one reads Chinua Achebe's "No Longer At Ease" and longs for the 'gentle' decay of those days.
I've heard people say, "But we have mobile phones and, most importantly, the internet. Now we have access to opportunities on a global scale!" That's BS! We've never been more unequal than our peers in the West! Now we just have a front-row seat at the gallery of disappointments. Of course, there'll always be outliers. The people who get those remote jobs at that huge tech company, the entrepreneur who sells his business for a respectable amount of money, the young girl who gets a scholarship abroad applying from her mobile phone. That's the problem right there. The fact that these are outliers. These stories are so far from the norm, we've struggled to get your folks to ignore fraud and pursue a career in tech or some other respectable field.
Okay, let me stop ranting. My point here is that until we figure out a way to drag ourselves out of our current mess as a country and continent, there's going to be no bright future for us as a people and all that hope will be worthless. I love backing founders building in these hard conditions. They're mad optimistic and it's very infectious. But it gets harder every day telling them to just keep building and things will work out in the future. For someone like me who sucks at selling, now picture me trying to convince investors that putting money into the continent is the way to go. Of course, I'm hopeful and optimistic; that's why I make these bets. But I'm also painfully realistic about how things are.
I do a lot of reading on national development and nations pulling out of poverty, and to be honest, we are many, many decades away from national prosperity. And the further we decline, the longer it will take to pull us back.
Most of my thinking on this topic revolves around how we can stop the decline even in the face of passive and corrupt governments. It's hard work, and it doesn't involve setting up a utopian crypto settlement for you and your friends. In his book, Gambling on Development, Stefan Dercon puts it aptly, "There is no one, cost-free path to development." Hopefully, I'll have some clear thoughts to share in due time.