Wednesday, September 15, 2021

Top general was so fearful Trump might spark war that he twice secretly called his Chinese counterpart, new book says

Mark Milley, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, promised that the Trump administration wouldn't strike


Author of the article:
Washington Post
Isaac Stanley-Becker
Publishing date:Sep 14, 2021 • 

Army Chief of Staff Gen. Mark Milley in a 2017 photo, told his chiefs of staff in 2020: "I want to assure you that the American government is stable and everything is going to be OK." 
PHOTO BY ANDREW HARNIK /AP


Twice in the final months of the Trump administration, the country’s top military officer was so fearful that the president’s actions might spark a war with China that he moved urgently to avert armed conflict.

In a pair of secret phone calls, Gen. Mark Milley, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, assured his Chinese counterpart, Gen. Li Zuocheng of the People’s Liberation Army, that the United States would not strike, according to a new book by Washington Post associate editor Bob Woodward and national political reporter Robert Costa.

One call took place on Oct. 30, 2020, four days before the election that unseated President Donald Trump, and the other on Jan. 8, 2021, two days after the Capitol siege carried out by his supporters in a quest to cancel the vote.

The first call was prompted by Milley’s review of intelligence suggesting the Chinese believed the U.S. was preparing to attack. That belief, the authors write, was based on tensions over military exercises in the South China Sea, and deepened by Trump’s belligerent rhetoric toward China.

“General Li, I want to assure you that the American government is stable and everything is going to be OK,” Milley told him. “We are not going to attack or conduct any kinetic operations against you.”

In the book’s telling, Milley went so far as to pledge he would alert his counterpart in the event of a U.S. attack, stressing the rapport they’d established through a backchannel. “General Li, you and I have known each other for now five years. If we’re going to attack, I’m going to call you ahead of time. It’s not going to be a surprise.”


If we're going to attack, I'm going to call you ahead of time
MARK MILLEY, CHAIRMAN, JOINT CHIEFS OF STAFF

Li took the chairman at his word, the authors write in the book, Peril, which is set to be released next week.

In the second call, placed to address Chinese fears about the events of Jan. 6, Li wasn’t as easily assuaged, even after Milley promised him, “We are 100 per cent steady. Everything’s fine. But democracy can be sloppy sometimes.”

Li remained rattled, and Milley, who, according to the book, did not relay the conversation to Trump, understood why. The chairman, 62 at the time and chosen by Trump in 2018, believed the president had suffered a mental decline after the election, the authors write, a view he communicated to House Speaker Nancy Pelosi in a phone call on Jan. 8. He agreed with her evaluation that Trump was unstable, according to a call transcript obtained by the authors.

Believing that China could lash out if it felt at risk from an unpredictable and vengeful American president, Milley took action. The same day, he called the admiral overseeing the U.S. Indo-Pacific Command, the military unit responsible for Asia and the Pacific region, and recommended postponing the military exercises, according to the book. The admiral complied.

Milley also summoned senior officers to review the procedures for launching nuclear weapons, saying the president alone could give the order — but, crucially, that he, Milley, also had to be involved. Looking each in the eye, Milley asked the officers to affirm that they had understood, the authors write, in what he considered an “oath.”

The chairman knew that he was “pulling a Schlesinger,” the authors write, resorting to measures resembling the ones taken in August 1974 by James Schlesinger, the secretary of defence at the time. Schlesinger told military officials to check with him and the chairman of the Joint Chiefs before carrying out orders from President Richard Nixon, who was facing impeachment at the time.

Though Milley went furthest in seeking to stave off a national security crisis, his alarm was shared throughout the highest ranks of the administration, the authors reveal. CIA Director Gina Haspel, for instance, reportedly told Milley, “We are on the way to a right-wing coup.”

The book also provides fresh reporting on President Joe Biden’s campaign — waged to unseat a man he told a top adviser “isn’t really an American president” — and his early struggle to govern. During a March 5 phone call to discuss Biden’s $1.9 trillion stimulus plan, his first major legislative undertaking, the president reportedly told Sen. Joe Manchin III, D-W.Va., “if you don’t come along, you’re really f—ing me.” The measure ultimately cleared the Senate through an elaborate sequencing of amendments designed to satisfy the centrist Democrat.

The president’s frustration with Manchin is matched only by his debt to House Majority Whip Rep. James Clyburn of South Carolina, whose endorsement before that state’s primary propelled Biden to the nomination and gave rise to promises about how he would govern.

When Clyburn offered his endorsement in February 2020, it came with conditions, according to the book. One was that Biden would commit to naming a Black woman to the Supreme Court, if given the opportunity. During a debate two days later, Clyburn went backstage during a break to urge Biden to reveal his intentions for the Supreme Court that night. Biden issued the pledge in his final answer, and the congressman endorsed him the next day.

Peril, the authors say, is based on interviews with more than 200 people

Peril, the authors say, is based on interviews with more than 200 people, conducted on the condition they not be named as sources. Exact quotations or conclusions are drawn from the participant in the described event, a colleague with direct knowledge or relevant documents, according to an author’s note. Trump and Biden declined to be interviewed.

On Afghanistan, the book examines how Biden’s experience as vice-president shaped his approach to the withdrawal. Convinced that President Barack Obama had been manipulated by his own commanders, Biden vowed privately in 2009, “The military doesn’t f— around with me.”

It also documents how Biden’s top advisers spent the spring weighing, but ultimately rejecting, alternatives to a full withdrawal. Secretary of State Antony Blinken and Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin returned from a NATO meeting in March envisioning ways to extend the mission, including through a “gated” withdrawal seeking diplomatic leverage. But they came to see that meaningful leverage would require a more expansive commitment, and instead came back around to a full exit.

Milley took a deferential approach to Biden on Afghanistan, in contrast to his earlier efforts to constrain Trump

Milley, for his part, took what the authors describe as a deferential approach to Biden on Afghanistan, in contrast to his earlier efforts to constrain Trump. The book reveals recent remarks the chairman delivered to the Joint Chiefs in which he said, “Here’s a couple of rules of the road here that we’re going to follow. One is you never, ever, ever box in a president of the United States. You always give him decision space.” Referring to Biden, he said, “You’re dealing with a seasoned politician here who has been in Washington, D.C., 50 years, whatever it is.”

His decision just months earlier to place himself between Trump and potential war was triggered by several important events — a phone call, a photo op and a refusal to rule out war with another adversary, Iran.

The immediate motivation, according to the book, was the Jan. 8 call from Pelosi, who demanded to know, “What precautions are available to prevent an unstable president from initiating military hostilities or from accessing the launch codes and ordering a nuclear strike?” Milley assured her that there were “a lot of checks in the system.”

Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi said she spoke with Milley about ensuring Donald Trump would not launch a nuclear attack in his final days in office. 
PHOTO BY NICHOLAS KAMM,BRENDAN SMIALOWSKI/AFP

The call transcript obtained by the authors shows Pelosi telling Milley, referring to Trump, “He’s crazy. You know he’s crazy. … He’s crazy and what he did yesterday is further evidence of his craziness.” Milley replied, “I agree with you on everything.”

Milley’s resolve was deepened by the events of June 1, 2020 when he felt Trump had used him as part of a photo op in his walk across Lafayette Square during protests that began after the killing of George Floyd. The chairman came to see his role as ensuring that, “We’re not going to turn our guns on the American people and we’re not going to have a ‘Wag the Dog’ scenario overseas,” the authors quote him saying privately.

Trump’s posture, not just to China but also to Iran, tested that promise. In discussions about Iran’s nuclear program, Trump declined to rule out striking the country, at times even displaying curiosity about the prospect, according to the book. Haspel was so alarmed after a meeting in November that she called Milley to say, “This is a highly dangerous situation. We are going to lash out for his ego?”


Mike, you have no flexibility on this. None. Zero. Forget it. Put it away
DAN QUAYLE TO THEN VICE-PRESIDENT MIKE PENCE ABOUT NOT CERTIFYING THE ELECTION RESULT

Trump’s fragile ego drove many decisions by the nation’s leaders, from lawmakers to the vice-president, according to the book. Sen. Mitch McConnell was so worried that a call from President-elect Biden would send Trump into a fury that the then-Majority Leader used a backchannel to fend off Biden. He asked Sen. John Cornyn of Texas, formerly the No. 2 Senate Republican, to ask Sen. Christopher Coons, the Democrat of Delaware and close Biden ally, to tell Biden not to call him.

So intent was Pence on being Trump’s loyal second-in-command — and potential successor — that he asked confidants if there were ways he could accede to Trump’s demands and avoid certifying the results of the election on Jan. 6. In late December, the authors reveal, Pence called Dan Quayle, a former vice-president and fellow Indiana Republican, for advice.

Quayle was adamant, according to the authors. “Mike, you have no flexibility on this. None. Zero. Forget it. Put it away,” he said.

But Pence pressed him, the authors write, asking if there were any grounds to pause the certification because of ongoing legal challenges. Quayle was unmoved, and Pence ultimately agreed, according to the book.

I don't want to be your friend anymore if you don't do this
THEN-PRESIDENT TRUMP TO MIKE PENCE

When Pence said he planned to certify the results, the president lashed out. In the Oval Office on Jan. 5, the authors write, Pence told Trump he could not thwart the process, that his role was simply to “open the envelopes.”

“I don’t want to be your friend anymore if you don’t do this,” Trump replied, according to the book, later telling his vice-president, “You’ve betrayed us. I made you. You were nothing.”

Within days, Trump was out of office, his governing power reduced to nothing. But if stability had returned to Washington, Milley feared it would be short-lived, the authors write.

The general saw parallels between Jan. 6 and the 1905 Russian Revolution, which set off unrest throughout the Russian Empire and, though it failed, helped create the conditions for the October Revolution of 1917, in which the Bolsheviks executed a successful coup that set up the world’s first communist state. Vladimir Lenin, who led the revolution, called 1905 a “dress rehearsal.”

A similar logic could apply with Jan. 6, Milley thought as he wrestled with the meaning of that day, telling senior staff: “What you might have seen was a precursor to something far worse down the road.

Top general so fearful Donald Trump might spark war that he made secret calls to Chinese counterpart, new book says


QILAI SHEN/BLOOMBERG
US President Donald Trump, and Xi Jinping, China's president, shaking hands during a news conference at the Great Hall of the People in Beijing on November 9, 2017.

Twice in the final months of the Trump administration, the US’ top military officer was so fearful that the president's actions might spark a war with China that he moved urgently to avert armed conflict.

In a pair of secret phone calls, General Mark Milley, the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, assured his Chinese counterpart, General Li Zuocheng of the People's Liberation Army, that the United States would not strike, according to a new book by Washington Post associate editor Bob Woodward and national political reporter Robert Costa.

One call took place on October 30, 2020, four days before the election that unseated President Donald Trump, and the other on January 8, 2021, two days after the Capitol siege carried out by his supporters in a quest to cancel the vote.

The first call was prompted by Milley's review of intelligence suggesting the Chinese believed the United States was preparing to attack. That belief, the authors write, was based on tensions over military exercises in the South China Sea, and deepened by Trump's belligerent rhetoric toward China.

General Mark Milley said accompanying the president for a photo op preceded by a violent crackdown on protesters created the perception "of the military involved in domestic politics". (Published June 2020)

“General Li, I want to assure you that the American government is stable and everything is going to be OK,” Milley told him. “We are not going to attack or conduct any kinetic operations against you.”

In the book's telling, Milley went so far as to pledge he would alert his counterpart in the event of a US attack, stressing the rapport they'd established through a backchannel. “General Li, you and I have known each other for now five years. If we're going to attack, I'm going to call you ahead of time. It's not going to be a surprise.”

Li took the chairman at his word, the authors write in the book, Peril, which is set to be released next week.

In the second call, placed to address Chinese fears about the events of January 6, Li wasn't as easily assuaged, even after Milley promised him, “We are 100 per cent steady. Everything's fine. But democracy can be sloppy sometimes.”

Li remained rattled, and Milley, who did not relay the conversation to Trump, according to the book, understood why.

The chairman, 62 at the time and chosen by Trump in 2018, believed the president had suffered a mental decline after the election, the authors write, a view he communicated to House Speaker Nancy Pelosi in a phone call on January 8. He agreed with her evaluation that Trump was unstable, according to a call transcript obtained by the authors.


SUSAN WALSH/AP
Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff General Mark Milley.

Believing that China could lash out if it felt at risk from an unpredictable and vengeful American president, Milley took action. The same day, he called the admiral overseeing the US Indo-Pacific Command, the military unit responsible for Asia and the Pacific region, and recommended postponing the military exercises, according to the book. The admiral complied.

Milley also summoned senior officers to review the procedures for launching nuclear weapons, saying the president alone could give the order – but, crucially, that he, Milley, also had to be involved. Looking each in the eye, Milley asked the officers to affirm that they had understood, the authors write, in what he considered an “oath”.

The chairman knew that he was “pulling a Schlesinger,” the authors write, resorting to measures resembling the ones taken in August 1974 by James Schlesinger, the secretary of defence at the time. Schlesinger told military officials to check with him and the chairman of the Joint Chiefs before carrying out orders from President Richard Nixon, who was facing impeachment at the time.

Though Milley went furthest in seeking to stave off a national security crisis, his alarm was shared throughout the highest ranks of the administration, the authors reveal. CIA Director Gina Haspel, for instance, reportedly told Milley, “We are on the way to a right-wing coup.”

The book also provides fresh reporting on President Joe Biden's campaign – waged to unseat a man he told a top adviser “isn't really an American president” – and his early struggle to govern.



EVAN VUCCI/AP
The book also provides fresh reporting on President Joe Biden's campaign and his early struggle to govern. (File photo)

During a March 5 phone call to discuss Biden's US$1.9 trillion stimulus plan, his first major legislative undertaking, the president reportedly told Senator Joe Manchin III, “if you don't come along, you're really f...ing me”. The measure ultimately cleared the Senate through an elaborate sequencing of amendments designed to satisfy the centrist Democrat.

The president's frustration with Manchin is matched only by his debt to House Majority Whip Representative James Clyburn of South Carolina, whose endorsement before that state's primary propelled Biden to the nomination and gave rise to promises about how he would govern.

When Clyburn offered his endorsement in February 2020, it came with conditions, according to the book. One was that Biden would commit to naming a Black woman to the Supreme Court, if given the opportunity. During a debate two days later, Clyburn went backstage during a break to urge Biden to reveal his intentions for the Supreme Court that night. Biden issued the pledge in his final answer, and the congressman endorsed him the next day.

Peril, the authors say, is based on interviews with more than 200 people, conducted on the condition they not be named as sources. Exact quotations or conclusions are drawn from the participant in the described event, a colleague with direct knowledge or relevant documents, according to an author's note. Trump and Biden declined to be interviewed.

On Afghanistan, the book examines how Biden's experience as vice president shaped his approach to the withdrawal. Convinced that President Barack Obama had been manipulated by his own commanders, Biden vowed privately in 2009, “The military doesn't f... around with me.”


ALEX WONG/GETTY IMAGES
The book examines how Joe Biden's experience as vice president during the Obama administration shaped his approach to the Afghanistan withdrawal. (File photo)

It also documents how Biden's top advisers spent the spring weighing, but ultimately rejecting, alternatives to a full withdrawal. Secretary of State Antony Blinken and Defence Secretary Lloyd Austin returned from a NATO meeting in March envisioning ways to extend the mission, including through a “gated” withdrawal seeking diplomatic leverage. But they came to see that meaningful leverage would require a more expansive commitment, and instead came back around to a full exit.

Milley, for his part, took what the authors describe as a deferential approach to Biden on Afghanistan, in contrast to his earlier efforts to constrain Trump. The book reveals recent remarks the chairman delivered to the Joint Chiefs in which he said, “Here's a couple of rules of the road here that we're going to follow. One is you never, ever ever box in a president of the United States. You always give him decision space.” Referring to Biden, he said, “You're dealing with a seasoned politician here who has been in Washington, DC, 50 years, whatever it is.”

His decision just months earlier to place himself between Trump and potential war was triggered by several important events – a phone call, a photo op and a refusal to rule out war with another adversary, Iran.

The immediate motivation, according to the book, was the January 8 call from Pelosi, who demanded to know, “What precautions are available to prevent an unstable president from initiating military hostilities or from accessing the launch codes and ordering a nuclear strike?” Milley assured her that there were “a lot of checks in the system”.

The call transcript obtained by the authors shows Pelosi telling Milley, referring to Trump, “He's crazy. You know he's crazy. ... He's crazy and what he did yesterday is further evidence of his craziness.” Milley replied, “I agree with you on everything.”


New Woodward/Costa book:
Trump secret memo ordering withdrawal from Afghanistan blindsided national security team


By Jamie Gangel, Jeremy Herb and Elizabeth Stuart
CNN
Tue September 14, 2021

The story below contains explicit language.

Washington (CNN)Just eight days after the 2020 election, then-President Donald Trump was so determined to end the war in Afghanistan during his presidency that he secretly signed a memo to withdraw all troops by January 15, 2021, according to a new book, "Peril," from journalists Bob Woodward and Robert Costa.

The November 11 memo, according to the authors, had been secretly drafted by two Trump loyalists and never went through the normal process for a military directive -- the secretary of defense, national security adviser and the chairman of the Joint Chiefs had all never seen it. Unpredictable, impulsive, Trump had done an end run around his whole national security team.

In a remarkable scene, the authors write, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs Gen. Mark Milley, newly appointed acting Defense Secretary Chris Miller and his new chief of staff Kash Patel were all blindsided when the memo arrived at the Pentagon.

Woodward and Costa reproduced the memo in "Peril." The directive was titled, "Memorandum for the Acting Secretary of Defense: Withdrawal from Somalia and Afghanistan," and the memo read: "I hereby direct you to withdraw all US forces from the Federal Republic of Somalia no later than 31 December 2020 and from the Islamic Republican of Afghanistan no later than 15 January 2021. Inform all allied and partner forces of the directives. Please confirm receipt of this order."

Milley studied the memo and announced he was heading to the White House to confront Trump.

Woodward book: Worried Trump could 'go rogue,' Milley took top-secret action to protect nuclear weapons

"This is really fucked up and I'm going to see the President. I'm heading over. You guys can come or not," Milley told Miller and Patel, who joined him on the trip across the Potomac, according to the book.
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close dialog

At the White House, the three men paid a surprise visit to national security adviser Robert O'Brien and showed him the signed memo.

"How did this happen?" Milley asked O'Brien, according to the book. "Was there any process here at all? How does a president do this?"

O'Brien looked at the memo and said, "I have no idea," according to the authors.
"What do you mean you have no idea? You're the national security adviser to the President?" Milley responded. "And the secretary of defense didn't know about this? And the chief of staff to the secretary of defense didn't know about this? The chairman didn't know. How the hell does this happen?"

O'Brien took the memo and left. While the officials had briefly debated whether the memo could be a forgery, Trump confirmed to O'Brien that he had signed it.

"Mr. President, you've got to have a meeting with the principals," O'Brien told Trump, according to the book, which Trump agreed to do and the directive was withdrawn.



President Donald J. Trump talks with others in the Oval Office at the White House on Friday, November 13, 2020.

It was "effectively a rogue memo and had no standing," Woodward and Costa write. "All right," O'Brien said when he returned to his office. "We've already taken care of this. It was a mistake. The memo was nullified."

But the signed rogue memo undercuts the argument that Trump and some of his allies, including Miller, have recently made that Trump never really planned to get out or would have planned the withdrawal better than President Joe Biden.

"If I were now President, the world would find that our withdrawal from Afghanistan would be a conditions-based withdrawal," Trump said in a statement last month as the Taliban closed in on Kabul. "I personally had discussions with top Taliban leaders whereby they understood what they are doing now would not have been acceptable."


Exclusive: Title, cover and details of new Trump book from Bob Woodward and Robert Costa revealed

Axios' Jonathan Swan and Zachary Basu reported in May that the memo had been drafted by two Trump loyalists who should not have been involved in the process -- Johnny McEntee, the former body man who Trump had named head of White House personnel, and controversial retired Lt. Col. Douglas Macgregor, who had just been appointed as an adviser to Miller.

Woodward and Costa write in "Peril" that the memo was also one of the reasons Milley was concerned Trump could go rogue after the November election, and prompted Milley after the January 6 insurrection to take steps to try to limit Trump from launching military strikes or nuclear weapons unless he was consulted.

Eventually, Milley, Miller and Patel left the White House. They never saw the President that day, but after the January 6 assault on the Capitol, Woodward and Costa write that Milley "felt no absolute certainty that the military could control or trust Trump." Milley "believed it was his job as the senior military officer to think the unthinkable, take any and all necessary precautions."

Poverty got worse in 2020 as many low-wage workers took the brunt of the economic blows
















About 1 in 9 Americans live below the poverty level. 
AP Photo/Lynne Sladky

September 14, 2021 

Poverty in the U.S. increased in 2020 as the coronavirus pandemic hammered the economy and unemployment soared. Those at the bottom of the economic ladder were hit hardest, new figures confirm, suggesting that the recession may have widened the gap between the rich and the poor.

The share of Americans living below the poverty line – pegged at US$26,695 for a family of four – increased by about 1 percentage point to 11.4% from 10.5% a year earlier, the U.S. Census Bureau announced on Sept. 14, 2021.

This metric includes wages and other sources of income, such as Social Security payments and, quite significantly in 2020, unemployment benefits. Without the massive boost in unemployment benefits that flowed to millions of jobless Americans for more than a year, the poverty rate would surely have climbed much higher.

As a social scientist who researches poverty, I’m concerned about the severe income loss some Americans experienced and signs that the nation’s extreme income inequality only got worse in 2020.

Low-income workers hit hardest


Those at the bottom of the economic scale, hit much harder by the coronavirus recession, are finding it harder to bounce back, according to additional data the Census Bureau released. It’s what has been termed a K-shaped recovery.

Consider what happened with typical household income, which decreased by 2.9% in inflation-adjusted terms to $67,521 in 2020, from $69,560 in 2019.

At the same time, full-time year-round workers saw their real median earnings increase 6.9% from 2019 levels – indicating that losses were borne primarily by part-time workers and people who aren’t employed throughout the whole year.

What’s more, the share of aggregate income – the sum of all incomes generated in the whole country – for the lowest-income households declined by 3.4%, while it increased by 0.7% among the highest-income households.

In another sign that low-income workers were hit the hardest in 2020, 53% of all jobs lost were held by workers earning less than $34,000 per year.

It’s unclear whether these inequality-exacerbating trends are continuing in 2021 or will be sustained in the years to come. But in June 2021, employment for low-wage workers had fallen by 21% from January 2020 levels, while employment for high-income workers had gained 9.6%.

Some success for stimulus and relief measures


The impact of the stimulus and supports is much more apparent in the Supplemental Poverty Measure rate, which takes into account additional sources of income, such as tax credits and other government benefits.

Without the series of relief and stimulus packages implemented between March 2020 and the end of the year, the supplemental poverty rate would have reached 12.7%, the Census said. Instead it stood at only 9.1%, 2.6 percentile points lower than what it otherwise would have been.


Author
Elena Delavega
Associate Professor of Social Work, University of Memphis


University of Memphis provides funding as a member of The Conversation US.


A Tale of Two Gandhis: Make Black History of India Matter

BY SHOBANA SHANKAR
SEPTEMBER 1, 2021

Debating Ideas is a new section that aims to reflect the values and editorial ethos of the African Arguments book series, publishing engaged, often radical, scholarship, original and activist writing from within the African continent and beyond. It will offer debates and engagements, contexts and controversies, and reviews and responses flowing from the African Arguments books.



On the University of Ghana, Legon, campus, in December 2018, a Gandhi statue unveiled in June 2016 was removed after many months of controversy. A petition for its removal, citing Gandhi’s racism towards blacks during his time in South Africa, gained more than 2000 signatures. “Give us a statue of Ambedkar, not Gandhi,” demanded Obádélé Kambon, research fellow at the Institute of African Studies, in an interview with the online Indian magazine Caravan. Gandhi “was always fighting for Indo-Aryans—to use his own term—not Black people.”

These events were part of a crescendo of African-Indian tensions, as Indian mobs attacked African students two years earlier and protests against Gandhi statues around the African continent. Now, since the murder of George Floyd on May 25 and the swell of political demonstrations and activism around the world in the name of the Black Lives Matter movement and others, statues of the Mahatma have been under attack again, particularly in the UK, where his likeness in Parliament Square was boarded up for protection, along with those of Churchill and Mandela.

While these protests have unleashed a spirited and necessary debate about the Mahatma’s career in South Africa and civil rights more broadly, relatively less notice has been given to the solidarity expressed by Ghanaian intellectuals and other Africans with the movement to end Dalit oppression and Aryan supremacy. African-Indian relations, particularly racial and cultural relations, are complicated and not reducible to the career of a single man.

Indeed, Ghanaians’ deep understanding of India goes back years earlier. Another older Gandhi likeness is in Accra, unnoticed, not too far away from the Legon campus at the Hindu Monastery of Africa in Odorkor. This milky, shiny Mahatma, adorned with a dhoti and walking stick, perches outside the resting place of Swami Ghananand Saraswati, the first Hindu African monk, whose black stone face has carefully applied sacred ash and fresh flower garlands, the respects paid to a guru beloved by both Africans and Indians. Before Swami Ghanananda’s death in 2016, Indians often sought his blessings and permission to perform pujas (worship). One ceremony was to honour the syncretistic deity Ayyappa, a sexually ambiguous celibate god, born of two males (Shiva and Vishnu in female form, Mohini), whose worshippers included Indians from Kerala, Tamil Nadu, and other parts of “non Aryan” South India, including Hindus, Muslims, and Buddhists, and now Ghanaians. The irony is that, while the worship of Ayyappa at the Sabarimala Temple in Kerala excluded women between the ages of 10 and 50 until a landmark 2018 Indian Supreme Court case, in Ghana, the blessings of a black Swami had given the Indian diaspora religious freedom and gender equality even before.

African-Indian diasporic entanglements have long involved struggles for rights and freedom from oppression, but how utopian visions have been articulated have not always been the same in every time and place. In Ghana, unlike the Indian Ocean regions of Africa, few Indian labourers and merchants migrated until after Partition, with the influx of Sindhi refugees from Pakistan and, from the 1960s, more South Asian teachers. Indeed, the largest diaspora likely went the other way, as contingents of Gold Coast soldiers, along with Nigerians, went to the battlefields in India with the British Army. Returning solders, getting no recognition and little material support after helping Britain defeat the Axis powers, were key leaders in anti-colonial protests in Gold Coast. They also probably sowed the roots of Ghanaian Hinduism. In the decade after the war, a traditional healer named Kwesi Essel formed a Hindu study group, which sponsored his study at the Divine Life Society in Rishikesh, on the banks of the Ganges, in 1969. He became Swami Ghanananda upon his return to Ghana and the spiritual leader of a multiracial spiritual community.

Ghana’s history with India—with its multidirectional diasporic flows and its intellectual and spiritual sides—is not the same to be found in other parts of the African continent. And the specific circumstances of history help explain the lesson the Indian government learned with the precipitous unveiling of the Gandhi statue at the University of Ghana, where the preference for Ambedkar reveals more than a deep knowledge of Indian history. The opposition was a demonstration of commitment to the cause of caste reform in India and social reform more broadly. The petitioners noted questions about Gandhi’s legacy in South Africa, referring to a recent book by South African scholars Ashwin Desai and Goolam Vahed. This revisionist history has been dismissed by historians like Ramachandra Guha in India for judging the Mahatma harshly for his racism towards Africans and “lower” Indians and kowtowing to the British colonizers as part of his early formational period in his life, before Gandhi’s “maturation” into a non-racialist and anti-colonial fighter. While Desai and Vahed have continue to disagree with Guha on his misunderstanding of South African history, Jon Soske’s recent book has noted the fierce South African-led opposition to white domination in the early 1900s that Gandhi would have had to all but cover his head in the sand to miss when making claims that Africans were not civilized enough for self-government. Gandhi’s chief underestimation appears to have been to oversimplify black politics; the Indian government’s cheap symbolism with the Gandhi statue could be seen as another symptom of this. It would be an additional mistake to miss what Ghanaian scholars are saying about Ambedkar by focusing on apparent anti-Gandhianism, as historian Dilip Menon does: “Gandhi is a metaphor for the Indian presence in Africa and histories of both Indian racism as well as commercial wealth … while Gandhi becomes increasingly sidelined in the maelstrom of Indian politics, in Africa he has come to stand in for the Indian presence.”[1] This view does not, unfortunately, acknowledge diversity of African thought and experience.

Africans’ positions on Gandhi, Ambedkar, or any other historical figure should not be divorced from the politics of knowledge and reduced to a crude general naivety. These protests are debates over representations and realities in history. It makes sense, too, that more African-Indian contentions are in the realm of knowledge-production, as African students today account for the largest contingent of foreign students in Indian universities. It should be remembered that African students have been among the victims of Indian mobs, a class and racial dynamic that has largely gone unremarked.

What and how postcolonial students learn is no apolitical issue but one that occupied the minds of Afrocentric leaders like Ghana’s Kwame Nkrumah and Senegalese President Léopold Senghor. Senghor, in 1974, undertook a unique African-Indian collaboration to explore race from non-Western and non-white perspectives. The Indo-African Studies Department he established, the Institut Fondamental d’Afrique Noir in Dakar, focused on the study of the deep past, the possible linguistic, cultural, and social affinities between black Africa and Dravidian India. His interest in bringing India into the black world, during a high point of Afrocentrism, even if it was not sustained with financial and political commitment by his successors, foreshadowed alternative veins of today’s Afro-Indian thought. South Indian scholars and activists have since engaged in Afro-Indian cultural questioning. The Dravidian Movement and Black Movement, by Dr K. Ponmudy, outlines a different approach, suggesting a comparative framework rather than a common root of African-American and Tamil nationalisms. The author drew inspiration from his personal witness to the 1960s liberation movements. Besides drawing from the requisite secular social theory derived from Western thinkers, Ponmudy notes the impossibility of ignoring white and Brahmin supremacy in religious-ethical as well as political arenas.

Today’s African-Indian knowledge engagements may not focus as much on humanistic and cultural inquiry, but it is the religio-spiritual ethicism, or non-material humanitarian interest, of Afro-Indian thought that Ponmudy, Kambon, and others bring back to the fore—the postcolonial world should not lose sight of the moral and ethical possibilities it envisioned in struggles for independence.

Independence today does not merely mean from the West but also critiquing power within the Global South. This power is material—in putting up statues in the service of a tired nationalism—as much as it is non-material—in thinking about who gets to think and be respected for their thought and action. Afro-Indian politics is about intellectualism, in which religion is a vast field, inseparable from other forms of knowledge as in Western enlightenment ideas. Hence, the Hindu Monastery of Africa has been a place to think for some of Ghana’s greatest minds, like late physicist G. K. Tetteh. African-Indian relations could bring greater freedom of thought, not less.

Old and new diasporic movements between Africa and South Asia have brought new forms of freedom and pluralism—like in Ghana’s popular gender-creative worship of Ayyappa. These forms may not fit into the familiar paradigms of neo-colonialism that the West relies on in doomsday predictions about “Asia’s scramble for Africa”(Obama advised African leaders in 2015: get “a good deal for Africa,” “like the kind of partnership America offers”). Cultural and intellectual knowledge produced in African-Indian diasporic entanglements is potent, especially when we confront reductionism and defensiveness that prevent critical reflection on multiple perspectives that have been erased for the sake of nationalism.



Author’s book in the African Arguments series published with Hurst
End Note


[1]Dilip Menon, “Was Mohandas Gandhi a Racist?”, Africa is a Country, March 10, 2017; https://africasacountry.com/2017/03/was-mohandas-gandhi-a-racist
How Class Colours Race – South Africa’s White Workers in Global Context

BY DANELLE VAN ZYL-HERMANN
AUGUST 18, 2021


How does one write the history of people thought not to exist? In apartheid South Africa, the obsession to maintain political and economic power for the white minority at the expense and exploitation of the black majority spawned a society in which skin colour determined every aspect of life. Top jobs and educational opportunities were reserved for whites; Africans’ freedom of movement was restricted, they were barred from owning land, organizing in the workplace or mobilizing politically. Other “racial groups” – so-called coloureds and those of Indian descent – suffered fewer restrictions but were similarly consigned to second-class citizenship.

Despite the ubiquity of race, these groups were not as monolithic as they appear. Historians have long recognized this – except when it comes to the main beneficiaries of apartheid. Popular understandings of colonialism and apartheid imagine whites as homogenously wealthy and powerful, perpetually waited on by scores of black servants. While historians recognize that many whites (an average of 40%) remained in blue-collar jobs throughout the apartheid era, they nevertheless argue that this did not make them workers, but rather labour aristocrats aligned with the ruling bourgeoisie in benefiting from the exploitation of the black majority. Meanwhile, the apartheid state’s ethnic and race-based politics by definition pushed an image of whites as classless. All of these views have led to an absence of attention to class in the white population, and the impression that white workers did not exist.

My book Privileged Precariat: White Workers and South Africa’s long transition to majority rule challenges this view. It focuses on the experience of the white industrial workforce and their unique social position in apartheid-era South Africa. Through race-based discriminatory legislation, lower-skilled white workers were shielded from black labour competition and received inflated wages in exchange for their political support for the regime. Thus, their class-based vulnerability was effectively concealed by their race-based status.



Autor’s book from IAI


I was particularly interested in how these workers responded when the labour legislation which protected their privileged position was dismantled. This occurred long before the formal end of apartheid in 1994. Starting from the 1970s, I show how labour reforms saw the apartheid state withdraw its support for working-class whiteness. This sent white workers searching for new ways to safeguard their interests in a rapidly changing world. Focusing on the blue-collar Mineworkers’ Union (MWU), my book tracks how this organization expanded its membership to represent blue-collar whites across a range of industries and aligned with right-wing groups to resist democratization. However, South Africa’s transition to majority rule in 1994 proved the futility of this strategy. The MWU then changed tack again, shedding its working-class identity to reposition as a civil society organization. By the new millennium, it had become the Solidarity Movement, a social movement appealing to cultural nationalism and expressing state-like ambitions.

In contemporary South Africa, the Movement and its subsidiary organizations – most prominently, AfriForum – is increasing its prominence and appeal. It claims to represent the interests of minorities in the context of “black majority domination”, and to speak for white Afrikaans-speakers in particular. While mobilizing outside formal party politics, it is a vocal critic of the black majority-ruled state and pursues the creation of institutional, community and even virtual spaces for “self-determination”. Once more, South African society is being cast in terms of racial and ethnic groups, and Afrikaners are presented as a culturally and politically united people – a classless volk.

My analysis places the long transition experienced by white workers since the 1970s, and how this has shaped contemporary South African politics, in the global context of the ascendance of neoliberalism and identity politics. I ask how the recent articulations and strategies of the Solidarity Movement reflect and inflect the national populism, anti-multiculturalism and anti-globalization politics which have, in recent years, trained attention on white working-class voters in the Global North. While in that context workers are part of a racial majority, they are said to have been “left behind” politically, economically and culturally since the 1970s, and political shifts to the right are understood as a “working-class backlash”.

My book demonstrates how in South Africa, white workers didn’t only exist but remain a political force – albeit in a different form than during much of the twentieth century. Class divisions clearly played an enduring role in shaping white society and politics. Moreover, by bringing together local and global dimensions, this research breaks away from the parochialism which often characterizes scholarship on South Africa. Offering insights from the Global South and the strategies of the white minority, it contributes to an understanding of how class shapes racial identity and politics in the era of neoliberalism.


Race-based workplace segregation

 

“We need to stick together”: Meet the family made up of Ongwen’s ex-wives

After escaping the LRA, the former “wives” of the convicted war criminal were shunned by their families. So they decided to be their own.

ongwen wives uganda LRA

Dilis Abang, Evelyn Aromorach, Agnes Aber and Scovia Achan were all forced to be notorious Lord’s Resistance Army commander Dominic Ongwen’s “wives”. Credit: John Okot.

When Dilis Abang escaped from the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) in 2014, she was initially overcome with relief. After being held captive for ten years by the notorious rebel group, she found her way home in northern Uganda. When she hugged her mother for the first time in a decade, the tears flowed freely. “I felt safe in her hands for the first time”, she remembers.

Abang had just escaped untold trauma. As an LRA abductee, she had been forced to “marry” a rebel soldier called Dominic Ongwen. She had three children by the now infamous commander who was recently sentenced to 25 years for war crimes and crimes against humanity by the International Criminal Court (ICC).

Abang was overjoyed to be free, but the feeling did not last long. One night as she slept alongside her children, she woke to the sound of heavy footsteps. Locals had surrounded her grass-thatched hut. They set fire to it and shouted expletives.

“At first I thought I was dreaming,” says Abang. “I began choking because the house was full of smoke. I opened the door very fast to save my children and ran away”.

Eveyln’s story

Ten years earlier, Evelyn Aromorach had lived through a very similar set of events. She was abducted in 1996 by Ongwen himself. She was just 13 years old and was in the northern town of Patiko when the LRA fighter grabbed her arm.

“I told Ongwen that I was going to inform my uncle that there was a sick person at our home, but he ordered that ‘you won’t go anywhere…from now on you will be part of us’”, she recalls.

Ongwen raped her and made Aromorach his “wife”. She was an LRA captive for the next nine years until, one day, government soldiers ambushed the rebels in Pabwo village. In the attack, she was separated from her baby by a bomb blast. Amazingly, a few days later, she heard on the radio that an LRA escapee had identified the child who was then returned to Aromorach’s mother. After pleading with Ongwen, who contacted LRA leader Joseph Kony by walkie-talkie, Aromorach was released.

Her family were delighted to see her. But like Abang, her welcome did not last long. A few days later, she was given an ultimatum. “My relatives said I had two weeks to look for place to stay because our family land was not enough for ‘bush people’”, she says.

Almost a decade after the first time, Aromorach left her home against her will for a second time, this time with her three children in tow.

Meeting the family

In the course of the LRA’s two-decade insurgency in northern Uganda, the rebel group is estimated to have abducted around 30,000 children. They have typically been used as child soldiers or sex slaves. Ongwen himself was first captured when he was just nine years old.

Many of these abductees eventually escaped or were released but, like Abang and Aromorach, have been revictimised by their communities. Former LRA captives have faced a wide array of mental health problems as well as economic difficulties after leaving the rebel group.

This was Aromorach’s experience after fleeing her home for the second time. For years, she did odd jobs to survive, feeling abandoned and alone. Then, in 2019, she heard that a local NGO in Gulu city was training former LRA abductees in vocational skills. She enrolled.

That’s where she met Abang. For the first time, Ongwen’s two former “wives” could share their experiences of abduction, trauma and rejection by their own families with someone who understood exactly. “It was like meeting your little sister,” says Aromorach.

They soon became friends and began looking for others they had known in captivity. They found Agnes Aber, 32, who had held by the LRA from 2000 to 2010 and had three children by Ongwen. She too had been driven out by her community after finding her way back.

“When I returned home, I found out that my father had passed away,” recalls Aber. “His co-wives were bitter with me when they heard that my half-sister died in captivity. Then they began accusing me of killing her.”

Next, the women discovered Scovia Achan, 30. She had been an LRA captive from 2002 to 2015 and also had three children with Ongwen.

The four former “wives” of the LRA commander got to know each other well and helped each other through their difficulties. They found such comfort in each other that they decided to live together and began renting a tin-roofed house on the outskirts of Gulu. Having felt shunned and misunderstood for so long, including by the communities they expected to welcome them back with open arms, the women were finally part of a supportive family.

“These days I don’t worry much,” says Achan. “My mind is settled and I now have people who understand me well because they went through the same experience that I did.”

“Now I am happy,” adds Aber. “If one of us has a problem, we deal with it collectively as a family.”

Getting by

As students, the women receive a small allowance of 50,000 Ugandan shillings ($14) per month. They sew and wash clothes and do gardening work for others to earn some extra income.

With this they just about get by, but they are also appealing to the ICC to compensate them as war victims. Yet despite their clearly traumatic experiences, the process is not necessarily straightforward.

The ICC’s Trust Funds for Victims (TFV) has said it will pay reparations to those who suffered under Ongwen’s command between 2002 and 2005 in four locations: Lukodi, Pajule, Odek and Abok. Yet only one of Ongwen’s ex-wives – Aber from Pajule – is from one of these locations.

An ICC spokesperson, however, told journalists in April that the location limits will not apply to certain atrocities such as sexual crimes. And Maria Kamara Mabinty, Outreach Coordinator for Kenya and Uganda, explained that the ICC “has issued a seven-page document indicating how reparation may take place – mapping and engaging the victims on what they [should] expect from their outcome from the Appeals Chambers”.

This, however, is all assuming Ongwen’s guilty verdict isn’t overturned. The former LRA commander’s lead defence lawyer, Krispus Ayena, recently told African Arguments that his team has filed an appeal. “There are so many grey areas on why the High Court should look at the evidence afresh. If we could manage those technical legal matters which we think we are washed away, perhaps the case could collapse all together,” he said.

“This is our life now”

After decades of trauma, Ongwen’s four “ex-wives” are looking for compensation and institutional recognition in what can be a complex and difficult to navigate system.

No amount of organisational support, however, will replicate the immense emotional support they can provide each other. Having long felt deeply alone and rejected, they have found solace in each other’s company. They still face significant economic and social challenges, but for the first time in years, they are beginning to look to the future.

“This is our life now,” says Aromorach. “Once we save enough we want to buy land where we can stay with our children…We need to stick together and look out for each other as one big family”.

 

South Africa unrest: We are not a failed state, but a failed global system

South Africa encapsulates global inequalities – and the kinds of tumult we’ll see more and more of worldwide – inside national borders.

South Africa unrest failed system. A township in Johannesburg, South Africa. Credit: Patrik M. Loeff.

A township in Johannesburg, South Africa. Credit: Patrik M. Loeff.

South Africa is in a tough spot at the moment and it’s frightening to see a system that already feels so fragile begin to implode. Over the past week, we’ve witnessed plunder and the destruction of property on a scale not experienced before. These actions were supposedly triggered by protests following the imprisonment of former president Jacob Zuma, but there remain many unanswered questions as to what was at play to ignite the fuse.

This is the reality of living in a country that encapsulates global inequalities inside national borders. What we see here has relevance and resonance far beyond our own shores.

Inequality in South Africa is amongst the highest in the world. So is unemployment, especially for those under 25. This is the same generation of people who see through their cellphones everything they cannot have and will likely never have but has been promised of the post-apartheid world. But of course we are not post-apartheid in a global sense, and even locally it is far more complicated.

South Africa is reeling from COVID-19. In the middle of a very cold winter, we are also in our third wave. Almost all of us have lost friends and loved ones to the virus, while many jobs have been temporarily or permanently removed from the employment ecosystem. Millions of our citizens fed their families on social security grants. Initially a special Covid-19 grant was provided that gave R350/month ($24) to all those with no other income. Stretched over a month, that is well below the international poverty line and on the absolute brink of physical survival, and the support was not extended after April, just when the third wave began to hit.

Wealthier countries have managed to vaccinate, but we are only just beginning in earnest, so many people are sick, frightened, hungry, and despairing, and rightly so because from here the future does look very bleak. On a collapsing planet, what is our place? Faced with the advances of technology and ever-shortening global supply chains which are rapidly transforming production systems, how will we ever create the necessary jobs? How will we sustain lives and livelihoods at scale and in a way that recognises the unique right of each person to self-determination?

We are at a breaking point across the board, and though the acts of looting and wanton destruction we have seen are utterly horrifying, it does not take too great a leap of imagination and compassion to understand them. More and more, as a planet, this is what we will be facing in the coming years.

Most readers outside South Africa will see the videos of looting and violence and the military coming in to respond. You will see the mob at its worst and the country on its knees, and you will grieve Mandela’s dream. What I ask you to remember is that all stories are nuanced, and here too, there are many sides to the narrative. All around the country, people have come together to protect what they value, and they will do so more and more in the coming days in remarkable deference to democracy and the public good.

The taxi industry, which is often at the heart of social unrest, has stood on the side of public protection and explicitly called for the protection of both lives and livelihoods. Businesses, government, civil society and community organisations are working together closely and will work together more. Thousands of people have already cleaned up the destruction that others have wrought.

In some communities, looters have been made to return the goods by local leadership. In others, food has been kept but everything else taken back. In every household, decisions are being made: to join in, to respond with rage and fear, or to find the best of ourselves and to act with the humanity that also defines this nation.

We have seen the worst of who we are, but in the coming weeks, we will also see the best. Kindness does not lend itself to viral videos and international headlines, but if it weren’t for that care and the million micro-kindnesses that are also being enacted, we would suffer so much more. We hope our political leadership rises to the challenge and guides us through – we trust that they will, but they might not, and we could become a little more broken than we already are.

Living in a suburb of Cape Town gives one a particularly curious perspective on South Africa. It is both the same and very different to living abroad: the same because the level of privilege and personal bodily comfort is roughly equivalent, and different because unlike those who have national borders between them, there are only a few blocks between those who have full fridges and those who have no fridges at all.

But this is how capitalism works in the world, and until we come up with new systems of distribution at a global scale it is what we must live through with frankness and a recognition of what is at stake. The lenses go in all directions: everyone can see both ways, and poor countries cannot accept rich countries’ behaviour any more than poor South Africans can accept a system that benefits some at the expense of the many. COVID-19 has simply thrown this into stark relief.

Can we overcome the crisis of imagination that has meant most of us accept what is, or can we use this as an opportunity to think freshly about what the world should actually be? We in South Africa have been through these moments before. As before, we will get through. My hope is that those far away at least try to see the nuance in the narrative: we are not a failed state, but a failed global system – South Africa just clarifies what is actually going on.

 

What does it mean to decolonise BDSM? 


“It’s not about race, it’s about slavery”

Credit: Warm Orange / Unsplash

One afternoon in 2018, while standing with my forehead against the wall of my bedroom in Johannesburg, arms above my head, legs sprawled apart, and wearing only a pair of black panties. With my consent, Sunga Konji, an exquisite Zimbabwean rope practitioner, flogged my back. 

I expected to feel the pleasure of pain. But instead, I suddenly felt like we were playing out a scene in a movie where I was a cotton-picking slave and he was my owner. It did not feel good. I stayed quiet in the moment, confused by why I felt this way and why notions of coloniality had risen even though we are both Black.

Konji and I discussed it in our after-care session, but several years later, I have noticed that similar conversations are rarely had more widely. There have been recent efforts to increase Black representation in kink – pushing back against notions that it is “ungodly” or the preserve of white people – but few discussions of coloniality despite its prominence in the scene through ideas of “masters” and “slaves”, shackles and chains.

To begin having these conversations, I spoke again to Konji and with Black feminist sexual wellness practitioner Mamello Sejake. 

Being kinky without a power system

Konji has been living in Cape Town for over a decade. Over the years, in South Africa’s predominantly white kink space, he has often observed Blackness being fetishised in uncomfortable or offensive ways. He once attended an event that featured a “slave auction” in which submissives were sold to the highest bidders. He was told that the performance was “not about race, it’s just about slavery”. 

Konji says that he works hard to propel a pro-African stance, making him intolerant to “weird racial things”. With his white clients, if need be, conversations on racial dynamics are had. Further engagement is discontinued if he deems their behaviour unacceptable. However, he believes that to decolonise the scene in South Africa requires diversity- in representation as well as conversation. An example of this has been a more recent practice of replacing the master/slave and dominant/submissive frameworks with new ones. Konji believes that these typically used concepts, in which one person owns or controls another, are focused on power systems and are not necessary in kink.

In his work, he instead presents himself as someone who facilitates needs and desires. 

“You can be kinky and still enjoy a good time without needing a power system to exist,” he told African Arguments. 

“Kink supersedes race and geography”

When I spoke to Sejake about coloniality in kink, she saw matters quite differently. She too has frequently come across the master/slave trope and the use of implements often associated with slavery. She shared a story of not enjoying engaging in play with a Black womxn that involved a stockade. However, that was not because it triggered notions of coloniality. To her, it was merely a moment in play that was intriguing but ended up not being as pleasurable as she had initially imagined. Sejake does not see the frameworks and toys typically used in kink as inherently problematic. 

“We play with chains and whips, right? Some of the toys that we play with have been used in very violent ways,” Sejake said. “[But] everything is given power and meaning if we give it. Within kink you get to play around with that power. You get to diffuse it.”  

For her, a bigger problem in kink is that it is often narrowly understood in Eurocentric and heteronormative ways as opposed to a more nuanced understanding of kink as centred around human yearning and enjoyment. She argues that the scene should be making more room for African traditions and customs. Sejake offers the example of labia stretching, which is particularly prevalent in Rwanda and Uganda but practised in several eastern and southern African countries. The custom increases sexual pleasure and facilitates orgasms and female ejaculation, but is sometimes referred to as “mutilation” in the West. Sejake believes our understanding of kink should be expanded to include African practices such as these. 

“Kink supersedes race and geography. It comes with human nature to explore, desire and play. The only difference is in the ‘how’,” she said. 

“Benefit to working with someone who is white”

My conversations with Konji and Sejake demonstrated how differently people understand kink and the role of coloniality in it. These differences highlighted even more clearly both practitioners’ emphasis on the importance of communication and empathy.

Sejake referred to kink as “care work” that involves “compassion and understanding and not just sensation work”. Konji even went as far as to suggest that the space created by kink can be the perfect forum to wider difficult interracial dynamics. “If you are someone who is tired of having to deal with this racial shit every single day in South Africa, I would see the benefit to working with someone who is white,” he said.

Early last year, I did just that. I began a kink relationship with a white man in which we openly discussed class, race, and power. In doing so, we decided to discard the dominant/submissive label after an innocent reference to ownership by him made me cringe. I identified as a “switch leaning towards submission who enjoyed being pleasured”, while he identified as a “submissive who enjoyed pleasuring”. He facilitated my needs, desires, and pleasures by tying me with rope, handcuffing and blindfolding me, and spanking me. 

I cannot say that this relationship has helped me navigate racial dynamics outside of the space we created, but the way in which we both practiced empathy – which is rare, especially among heterosexual white men, no matter how “woke” they are – has helped me develop an even deeper and more nuanced conception of the complexities of what kink can be.