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Rebuilding the intellectual community on the continent’-Zubair A Zubair

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4 years ago

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Zubair A Zubair

 

Zubair A Zubair

Neo-liberalism has devastated African universities, turning them from vibrant centres of new thinking and academic comradeship into factories churning out marketable academic products and “saleable” students, according to leading Tanzanian scholar-activist Issa Shivji.

African scholars have become mere data “hunter-gatherers” instead of producers of theory; while the nascent radical intellectual community that emerged on the continent in the wake of independence has been decimated, says Shivji, who occupies the Mwalimu Julius Nyerere Research Chair in Pan-African Studies at the University of Dar es Salaam.

In the meantime, the Global North has retained control over the upper reaches of knowledge production since the 1970s, when higher education on the continent was devalorised and starved of public resources as African governments embraced neo-liberal prescriptions and austerity programmes.

“The very idea of the university was undermined,” says Shivji.

“The World Bank and its associates said that Africa did not need thinkers; rather, it needed only implementers of policies,” he says. “The ‘luxury’ of theorising could be left to the developed North, which would do the thinking, while Africa did the acting.”

Under the “long shadow” of neoliberalism, he says, “the market determined the form, content and depth [of] courses. Theory was eschewed; and action and a skills-oriented approach were privileged.”

“Instead of being centres of thinking and basic research, African universities were turned into sort of factories, with the academics being told to package and brand their products, including the students, to make them ‘saleable’.”

One consequence has been a devaluation of the quest for original knowledge on the continent and, in particular, theory, which Shivji views as the “highest form of knowledge”.

Quality of African scholarship has deteriorated

The trend has been made manifest, he says, in a number of ways: the content of PhDs has become increasingly descriptive rather than theoretical; the academic vocation to produce new knowledge has been undermined by scholars’ increasing dependence on consultancy work; university courses have become vocationalised, with increasing numbers of “executive evening courses” being taught; the younger generation of academics unquestioningly imbibe intellectual fads with little regard for existing scholarship; and the task of mentoring young faculty is undertaken by visiting scholars on a jaunt.

Shivji identifies a lack of seriousness among “today’s neo-liberal generation of young faculty members who neither care about nor have any sense of the traditions of their own alma mater”.

In particular, he notes that young African academics educated “outside”, in the North, tend to return as adherents of new intellectual fashions: “It is as if they want to re-invent the wheel and start all over again.”

Meanwhile, as the quality of the African scholarship on offer has deteriorated, international financial institutions have “jumped on the bandwagon”, providing funding for foreign scholars to come from the North with the goal of upgrading local scholarly standards, according to Shivji.

“These visiting academics … come for a few weeks or a couple of months; rush through a couple of courses; take time off to visit local tourist resorts; and off they go, leaving behind no sense of academic collegiality and camaraderie, which should be the stuff of university life,” he says.

However, “this is not what universities were meant to be”, he argues.

‘A site for thinking’

“Neo-liberalisation, in my view, devastated the fundamental rationale of a university just as it devastated the social fabric in Africa. The very idea of the university was undermined.”

Shivji describes his idea of the university as “rather orthodox”.

“I think a university is a site for thinking, a site for the production of knowledge, and, of course, a site where ideas clash and knowledge is developed.”

“The idea of the university should be of a kind of comradeship which is established among the faculty but also between the students and the whole academic community. The aim is not simply to produce people with certificates but rather to cultivate deep scholarship and, if possible, some societal commitment.”

In pursuit of this goal, Shivji advocates a pan-African approach under which academics across the continent collaborate to rejuvenate the African intellectual community and seek to produce a new breed of ideas.

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He notes the scale of the rejuvenation effort given that “a whole generation of deep, committed scholarship” was lost under the neo-liberalisation of universities from the late 1970s.

“The few faculty members who stuck to their guns found themselves abandoned both by colleagues and students,” he notes. As a result, “the radical and nationalist faculty staff failed to reproduce itself”.

“What remained was not an intellectual community propounding, advocating and debating the idea of the university and its ethos, but only a few individuals,” he says.

A need for collective purpose

In this context, Shivji advocates for a restoration of comradeship and a sense of collective purpose among academics in order to help rebuild the intellectual community on the continent.

“Such work can only be a collective effort, not an individual task,” he explains.

“Although individuals may manage to spark debates, they cannot easily sustain them. They soon get demoralised for lack of support; and there is always a limit to how much an individual can withstand in terms of derision and ridicule from an ignorant young faculty and a hostile university administration.”

Shivji also envisages the university’s restoration as a pan-African project although, at the same time, he stresses that national governments “must be persuaded that [higher] education is a priority on the basis that, like health, it is a strategic productive sector rather than just a service sector”.

Shivji’s argument for a continent-wide pan-African approach is based on what he terms “the fragility of the idea of nationalism based on the nation-state” and separate territorial domains; and also on what he views as the strength of regionalism in the African context.

“Unlike in other continents, regionalism in Africa – that is, pan-Africanism – gave birth to territorial nationalism, not the other way around,” he says.

Accordingly, he proposes that the effort to reclaim the idea of the university and build an African intellectual community “should take place as a pan-African endeavour at the continental level”.

Reclaim the ability to theorise

Adopting such an approach, Shivji contends, the present nature of African knowledge production can be transformed and African academia can reclaim its credibility and capacity to theorise.

“I think a new breed of ideas is required, which depends on many discussions, and debates being held at every opportunity … among African intellectuals.

“So, there is a need to engage in a double process: the process of building a pan-African intellectual community; and the process of raising these important questions.”

Shivji cites the collegial nature of the former University of East Africa, which had campuses in Kenya, Tanzania and Uganda, as an example of the kind of pan-African collaboration that could be fostered.

“There were annual meetings bringing together the subject teachers from the different disciplines at the three sister colleges [in Dar es Salaam, Kampala and Nairobi]. Views were exchanged on the content of the courses; on the work being undertaken; on the pedagogy, and so on,” he recalls.

“These discussions were very fruitful, indicating how the task of changing orientation cannot be an individual endeavour; if it is to be effective, it must always be a collective enterprise.”

Shivji contrasts this collaboration with the present academic climate, in which, for example, “few intellectuals in universities in other African countries know about or keep track of the debates taking place in South Africa”, and vice versa.

However, such is the kind of pan-African interaction that he would like to see as “a starting point” for the restoration of African academic endeavour, although he emphasises that this “cannot be left to happen spontaneously”.

“It should be undertaken in a conscious and conscientious way.”

This is imperative, says Shivji, particularly since “the continent cannot continue to depend on the North to revive its universities”.

“The North is not interested and understandably so. Higher education has become a major export for some countries in the North. Why, then, should they invest in reviving African universities?”

From a practical point of view, Shivji advises that South Africa, which became a destination for many academics leaving other African countries as their universities were starved of resources, has the potential to provide the leadership required to rebuild the African intellectual community.

“I would hope that greater energy and thinking in the South African academy may be directed at supporting and building relations with universities in other African countries, not in a predatory fashion but in the spirit of genuine pan-African collegiality,” he says.

“In this regard, the South African academy should plug into African debates, and not be constantly overawed by European debates.”

This article is based on an interview conducted by Professor Crain Soudien for ‘The Imprint of Education’ project, which is being implemented by the Human Sciences Research Council, South Africa, in partnership with the Mastercard Foundation. This project, which includes a series of critical engagements with experienced scholars and thought leaders on their reimaginings of higher education in Africa, investigates current and future challenges facing the sector, including best practices and innovations. Mark Paterson and Thierry M Luescher edited the transcript for focus and length.

Copyright © 2022 Zubair A Zubair and University World News”

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Opinion

Question Over Killings, Kidnappings, and Bandit Attacks: What Exactly Will Homeland Security Change?

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21 minutes ago

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June 19, 2026

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Abraham Victory

 

By Abraham Victory

When more than forty schoolchildren were abducted during coordinated attacks on schools in Borno in May, Nigerians were reminded of one of the country’s darkest security nightmares: the return of large-scale school kidnappings.

Only weeks later, reports emerged of fresh bandit attacks in Zamfara, where farmers were killed while working on their farmlands. Across parts of Benue and the Middle Belt, communities continued to mourn victims of deadly attacks that left many families displaced and fearful about what tomorrow might bring.

For ordinary Nigerians, these incidents are no longer isolated headlines. They have become symbols of a broader security crisis that has persisted despite the presence of numerous security agencies and repeated government reforms.

It is against this backdrop that President Bola Ahmed Tinubu’s creation of the office of Special Adviser on Homeland Security deserves serious public scrutiny.

The appointment has generated debate among security experts, policymakers, and citizens alike. Supporters argue that Nigeria’s growing internal security challenges require specialised attention. Critics worry that the country may be creating another layer of bureaucracy without addressing the real problem.

The question Nigerians should be asking is straightforward: Would another office have prevented these attacks?

The answer depends on how one understands Nigeria’s security challenge.

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Take the recent school abductions. The issue was not the absence of security institutions. Nigeria already has the military, police, DSS, civil defence, intelligence agencies, and the Office of the National Security Adviser. The challenge was whether intelligence was gathered early enough, shared effectively, and acted upon before the attacks occurred.

The same question applies to the recurring attacks in Benue and the resurgence of bandit activities across the North-West. In many cases, local communities claim warning signs existed before attacks occurred. Yet security responses often arrived after lives had already been lost.

This suggests that Nigeria’s greatest security challenge may not be a shortage of institutions but a shortage of coordination.

The Office of the National Security Adviser was created precisely to address this problem. The NSA coordinates intelligence activities, advises the President on security matters, and facilitates cooperation among agencies. If Homeland Security is established as a parallel structure with overlapping responsibilities, the risk is that coordination problems could become even more complicated rather than less.

Who receives intelligence first? Who coordinates domestic threat responses? Who bears responsibility when security failures occur?

These questions matter because effective security management depends on clear authority and accountability.

None of this means Homeland Security is unnecessary. The recent wave of kidnappings, bandit attacks, and mass killings demonstrates that Nigeria’s internal security challenges require specialised attention. However, specialisation should strengthen coordination, not weaken it.

A Homeland Security structure can add value if it operates under the strategic framework of the National Security Adviser, focusing specifically on domestic threat management, emergency preparedness, critical infrastructure protection, and internal intelligence integration.

What Nigerians need today is not another competition among security institutions. They need a system capable of preventing the next school abduction, stopping the next bandit attack, and protecting the next vulnerable community before tragedy occurs.

The success of Homeland Security will therefore not be measured by the title of the office or the prestige of the appointment.

It will be measured by a far simpler standard: whether fewer children are kidnapped, fewer communities are attacked, and fewer Nigerians lose their lives to insecurity.

That is the question the government must answer, and it is the result Nigerians deserve.

Abraham Victory
Department of Development and Strategic Communication
200 Level
Abuja, NigeriaThe main corrections were punctuation (commas), capitalization, the title, and changing “200level” to “200 Level.”

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Opinion

The Prophet’s Mosque, Al-Rawdah, and the Inner Peace of the Visitor’s Mind

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6 days ago

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June 13, 2026

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By Abubakar Dangambo

Madinah Al-Munawwarah, the radiant city of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him), occupies a unique place in the hearts of Muslims across the world. Located about 450 kilometers from Makkah, it is a city of peace, spirituality, and immense historical significance. For millions of believers, visiting Madinah is not merely a journey; it is the fulfillment of a lifelong dream.

Unlike many great cities of the world that are known for their skyscrapers, industries, or commercial activities, Madinah is known for something far more precious—tranquility. The moment a visitor enters the city, he is greeted by an atmosphere of calmness and serenity that is difficult to describe in words. The city seems to embrace every visitor with a sense of comfort, reminding them that they are walking on land blessed by the presence of the Messenger of Allah (peace be upon him).

At the heart of Madinah stands the magnificent Prophet’s Mosque (Al-Masjid An-Nabawi), one of the holiest sites in Islam. Within its sacred boundaries lies the house of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him), where he spent much of his life and where he is buried alongside his beloved companions, Abu Bakr As-Siddiq (RA) and Umar ibn Al-Khattab (RA).

The first time I entered Madinah and subsequently stepped into the Prophet’s Mosque to observe the Maghrib and Isha prayers, I was overwhelmed with emotion. Words failed me. My eyes filled with tears of joy and gratitude. For years, I had dreamed of visiting this sacred place, and suddenly I found myself standing within its walls.

As I joined thousands of worshippers in prayer, an indescribable feeling settled over me. My mind became calm, my heart found rest, and my entire body felt a comfort unlike anything I had ever experienced. It was as though every burden and worry had been lifted away. The peaceful atmosphere of the mosque, combined with the spiritual presence of the place, created a feeling that remains unforgettable.

Although we arrived in Madinah late at night from Jeddah, I could hardly wait for dawn. Immediately after the Fajr prayer the following morning, I hurried back to the Prophet’s Mosque to visit the resting place of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) and his noble companions.

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Standing before the sacred chamber was one of the most emotional moments of my life. Tears flowed freely as I thanked Allah Almighty for granting me the opportunity to fulfill a dream I had cherished for many years. I offered my greetings and salutations to the Prophet (peace be upon him), Abu Bakr (RA), and Umar (RA), praying that Allah would count me among those who sincerely love and follow their noble example.

Another unforgettable experience was praying in Al-Rawdah, the blessed area between the Prophet’s pulpit and his house. The Prophet (peace be upon him) described it as a garden from the gardens of Paradise. Every Muslim who enters Al-Rawdah feels a special connection to history, faith, and spirituality. Being in that sacred space filled me with gratitude and humility. I spent those precious moments in prayer, reflection, and remembrance of Allah, thanking Him for His countless blessings.

What makes Madinah even more remarkable is not only its sacred sites but also the character of its people. The residents of Madinah are widely known for their kindness, hospitality, and respect for visitors. Whether in the streets, markets, hotels, or around the mosque, one encounters smiles, warm greetings, and genuine willingness to help.

The hospitality of the people reflects the legacy of the Ansar—the noble residents of Madinah who welcomed the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) and his companions during the Hijrah. That spirit of generosity and care continues to live on in the city today. Visitors from every race, language, and nationality are treated with respect and dignity, making them feel at home despite being far from their own countries.

Walking through the streets of Madinah is itself a memorable experience. The city is remarkably clean, organized, and peaceful. Around the Prophet’s Mosque, worshippers from every corner of the world gather in unity, demonstrating the universal brotherhood of Islam. Despite the diversity of cultures and languages, everyone is united by the same faith and love for Allah and His Messenger.

My stay in Madinah lasted only two days before I departed for Makkah to commence the rites of pilgrimage. Yet those two days remain among the most cherished moments of my life. The joy, comfort, spiritual fulfillment, and inner peace I experienced are memories that can never be erased.

Even now, whenever I reflect on those blessed days, my heart longs to return. Madinah is not simply a city one visits; it is a city that captures the soul. Its beauty lies not only in its buildings or landmarks but in the tranquility it offers, the history it preserves, and the spiritual connection it nurtures.

As I conclude this reflection, I pray that Allah, the Most Merciful, grants me another opportunity to visit Madinah and the Prophet’s Mosque. I also pray that every Muslim who desires to visit the blessed city will one day be granted that privilege.

May Allah continue to shower His peace and blessings upon our beloved Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him), his family, his companions, and all those who follow his guidance until the Day of Judgment.

Ameen.

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Opinion

Persecution of Crimean Tatar Muslims and Russia’s Campaign Against Ukrainian Identity

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1 week ago

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June 11, 2026

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By Alhassan Bala

The annexation of Crimea by Russia in 2014 marked not only a violation of international law but also the beginning of a systematic campaign to undermine the cultural identity of the Crimean Peninsula’s indigenous people.

The Crimean Tatars, who had already endured one of history’s most devastating forced deportations under Joseph Stalin, now face a renewed threat as Russia continues efforts that many observers say are aimed at eroding their language, culture, and religious freedoms.

According to discussions with representatives of the Crimean Tatar community, the current situation goes beyond cultural suppression. It is, they argue, a gradual process of cultural extinction.

The Crimean Tatars have survived persecution before. In 1944, Stalin ordered the mass deportation of the entire Crimean Tatar population from their homeland to Central Asia. Packed into cattle cars and transported under inhumane conditions, nearly half of the deportees died during the journey or in the early years of exile.

It took decades for survivors and their descendants to return to Crimea and rebuild their communities following the collapse of the Soviet Union.

I recently met several Crimean Tatars, and hearing their accounts of how their grandparents endured displacement, hardship, and persecution was deeply moving.

Their stories are a reminder of the resilience of a people determined to preserve their identity despite repeated attempts to erase it.

Today, more than seventy years after Stalin’s deportations, history appears to be repeating itself in a different form. Rather than relying on mass expulsions, Russia is accused of employing more subtle methods, including institutional discrimination, restrictions on religious practice, and the gradual erosion of linguistic and cultural identity.

Language is central to the survival of any people, and critics say Russian authorities understand this well. Since the annexation, Crimean Tatar-language education has reportedly been significantly reduced.

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Schools that once provided instruction in the Crimean Tatar language have been encouraged or compelled to switch to Russian. Crimean Tatar textbooks have become increasingly scarce, while educators who seek to preserve indigenous-language instruction face growing challenges.

The Ukrainian language has faced a similar decline. Prior to 2014, Ukrainian was widely taught and spoken throughout Crimea.

Today, opportunities to study both Crimean Tatar and Ukrainian have reportedly been reduced dramatically. In many cases, Crimean Tatar language instruction is limited to only a few hours per week, while Ukrainian-language education has largely disappeared from public institutions.

Critics describe this as a form of linguistic colonialism. By restricting access to education in native languages, they argue, future generations become increasingly disconnected from their cultural heritage.

Over time, languages that once flourished in Crimea risk becoming marginalized in the very homeland where they originated.

For the predominantly Muslim Crimean Tatar community, concerns extend beyond language to the practice of their faith.

Human rights organizations have documented reports of mosque raids, arrests of religious leaders, and restrictions on religious education.

The Mejlis, the representative body of the Crimean Tatar people, was banned by Russian authorities as an “extremist organization,” a move widely condemned by international observers.

Young Crimean Tatar men have faced particular scrutiny. Many have been detained and prosecuted under allegations of affiliation with Hizb ut-Tahrir, an organization that is legal in Ukraine but prohibited in Russia.

Human rights advocates have questioned the fairness of some of these prosecutions, citing concerns over evidence and due process.

Reports also indicate that religious literature has been confiscated and that Islamic educational activities have been subjected to increased restrictions.

For many Crimean Tatars, these measures reinforce a perception that maintaining their distinct religious and cultural identity has become increasingly difficult under Russian rule.

Crimean Tatar citizen journalists who document human rights abuses face heavily militarized show trials. Many are sentenced to decades in Russian penal colonies. Journalists face forced disappearances, physical violence, and raids on their homes. For example, Iryna Danylovych, a freelance reporter, was abducted by the FSB and transferred to a Russian prison.

The international community must continue to pay attention to the situation in Crimea. The Crimean Tatars survived Stalin’s attempt to destroy their nation and identity.

They rebuilt their communities from the ashes of exile and deserve the opportunity to preserve what they have fought so hard to reclaim—their language, their faith, their culture, and their homeland.

In this regard, the efforts of the Crimea Platform, an international initiative established to keep global attention focused on Crimea and the challenges faced by its people, remain important.

Through dialogue, advocacy, and international engagement, the platform continues to highlight the plight of Crimeans and the need for a peaceful and just resolution.

Alhassan Bala writes from Abuja, Nigeria.

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