Politics
Where are North Africa’s Jews?
5 min read.A fascinating new graphic novel sets out to describe the effects of Nazi and collaborationist policies on the inhabitants of French-controlled colonies and protectorates of World War Two North Africa.

It should come as no surprise that so many historians have taken to presenting their research in graphic novels; to state the obvious, the form is expansive and entertaining, allowing much space for writing that is systematically offset by imagery. For all that graphic novels are now widely considered worthy of academic interest, they rightfully remain an accessible medium, and thus a perfect tool for public-facing scholarship. Two recent examples are Rebecca Hall and Hugo Martinez’s Wake: The Hidden History of Women-Led Slave Revolts, plus Lee Francis IV, Weshoyot Alvitre, and Will Fenton’s Ghost River: The Fall and Rise of the Conestoga.
Undesirables is dedicated to shedding light on dark and ill-known pages of history. Writer Aomar Boum and artist Nadjib Berber set out to describe the effects of Nazi and collaborationist policies on the inhabitants of French-controlled colonies and protectorates of North Africa during World War Two. The book follows Hans Frank—a real-life, Jewish German journalist—from the turmoil of Weimar Germany to the liberation of North Africa.
Escaping to France in the early days of Nazi rule in the 1930s, Frank gets acquainted with the members of the Ligue Internationale contre l’Antisémitisme–LICA (International League Against Antisemitism). Faced with the growth of fascism on the European continent and the spread of its hateful creed on the African continent, LICA was dedicated to promoting inter-communal unity among North African people of all religious and ethnic backgrounds. Coming to realize in the aftermath of the Spanish Civil War that “there was no place to hide anymore,” Frank goes to Algeria to join the French Foreign Legion and fight in World War Two until the French surrender in June 1940.
There begins the second part of the book that focuses on the lesser-known history of the Saharan camps: a network of nearly 70 labor, disciplinary, and internment camps set up by collaborationist Vichy authorities throughout Algeria and Morocco, and where they sent foreigners (most notably veterans of the Spanish Civil War and former members of the Foreign Legion), Jewish people, and political opponents. With Frank, we witness the quotidian brutality of life in the desert camps as he is taken from labor to punishment/disciplinary internment. His ordeal stops not long after he manages to escape and find refuge in Morocco, where the book ends abruptly as he witnesses Operation Torch, the successful Allied invasion of Morocco and Algeria in November 1942.
Resting as it does on Boum’s extensive research (he is Chair of Sephardic Studies at UCLA and the author and co-author of several books on Jewish history in Morocco), Undesirables is chock full of information; pages overflow with text boxes, providing a fascinating look at a region that so often only appears in accounts of World War Two at the very moment where this narrative ends. In popular culture, of course, World War Two Morocco is known almost exclusively as the backdrop to one of the most celebrated films of all time: Michael Curtiz’s 1942 Casablanca, first released mere weeks after the liberation of the eponymous Moroccan city. In Curtiz’s film, Claude Rains’ turn as the friendly corrupt French police chief steered clear of criticizing authorities already in the process of turning their coats. The reality was much drearier: as Morocco filled with spies from all nations and soon appeared as a vital strategic point for the conflict, Vichy authorities focused on enforcing antisemitic legislation in the colonies, notably rescinding the French citizenship of Algerian Jews, guaranteed since the Crémieux decree of 1870.
Hans Frank’s path from 1930s Berlin to wartime Casablanca is an extended if subdued epiphany: for all its horrifying singularity, Nazi antisemitism was tied to a long tradition of European antisemitism, which throughout the 19th century became bound up with exacerbated and increasingly insular nationalism. There’s no small irony in seeing fascist officers of the French army cheering on German Nazis while spewing arguments inherited from the Dreyfus affair, in which the antisemitic right painted a Jewish officer as a pro-German traitor. As interesting is the way Boum and Berber smoothly make clear, through the same sadistic French military officers, how inseparable from colonial rule European fascism is. Frank befriends North African Jews and Muslims, Arabs and blacks alike, connected in their status as targets for the hatred and disdain of French authorities.
In Discourse on Colonialism, Aimé Césaire famously advanced that the:
… very Christian bourgeois of the twentieth century… cannot forgive Hitler for is… the crime against the white man, the humiliation of the white man, and the fact that he applied to Europe colonialist procedures which until then had been reserved exclusively for the Arabs of Algeria, the coolies of India, and the blacks of Africa.
While these procedures were applied to Europe they also redoubled in Vichy’s colonies, as Undesirables shows. Appalled at legislation hampering the rights of Jewish people even in Morocco, Sultan Muhammad V reminded the French that as his subjects Moroccan Jews remained under his protection. In its representations of individual encounters, the book also suggests myriad unsung acts of friendship among the colonized and oppressed populations in Vichy’s colonies.
Arguably, this is one area where Undesirables might have done things differently. For all that the book owes to Boum’s work, in the end only a portion of it focuses on North Africa. The first section of the book gives us Frank’s background and an overview of the rise of Nazism in Germany, a terrain so well-trodden it feels almost off-topic here. Similarly, one might puzzle at the choice of Hans Frank as a protagonist: was it necessary to center European experience in a text ostensibly about North Africa? One wishes more space had been given to the history of relations between Jews and Muslims, the impact of French colonization on pre-war Morocco, as well as local developments from the Allied invasion of 1942 to the end of World War Two—a time period during which independentist movements developed in collaboration with and opposition to American and French representatives and authorities along complex and generally ignored lines.
In his early career, the late Algerian artist Nadjib Berber (who died in March 2023) worked as a caricaturist in the North African press, also authoring children’s books. Berber moved to the US from Algeria in 1992 and continued working in graphic art here, notably as a writer on The Barbarossa Brothers, and on a project about the sect of the Hashasheen. Berber’s black and white photorealistic art in Undesirables at times almost verges into photonovel territory, as each panel seems derived from an existing photo somewhere. The effect can be uncanny and even puzzling, as when Frank befriends a Senegalese tirailleur whose face is clearly Omar Sy’s; but it also gives the book a documentary feel well fitted to its topic.
Undesirables is a teachable, well-researched, and fascinating look into a history that deserves to be known better. It is an invitation to go find out more in Aomar Boum’s own scholarship and in the works of the likes of Ariella Azoulay, so as to better understand the varied and complex recent history of Jewish presence (and absence) in North Africa.
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Undesirables: A Holocaust Journey to North Africa (2023) by Aomar Boum and illustrated by Nadjib Berber is available from Stanford University Press.
This post is from a partnership between Africa Is a Country and The Elephant. We will be publishing a series of posts from their site once a week.
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Politics
End Times in Malindi: The Shakahola Forest Tragedy
The Shakahola Forest tragedy was decades in the making and won’t lend itself to easy policy prescriptions.

As the body count of victims from the Shakahola Forest mass graves has ticked up, the Kenyan public has reacted with a mix of revulsion and horror. President William Ruto’s description of Pastor Paul Mackenzie, head of the Good News International Church, as “a terrible criminal” and someone who “did not belong to any religion” captures something of the incredulity that many Kenyans and observers of the church scene in the country feel, particularly following reports that many of the victims most probably starved themselves to death, while others, including children, may have been “strangled, beaten, or suffocated to death”.
While many are puzzled as to why Pastor Mackenzie’s parishioners would agree to starve themselves to death in order to “meet Jesus in heaven,” others are at a loss as to the depth of the hold that a barely educated 50-year-old pastor exercises on the minds of his followers.
As Kenyans search for answers to these questions, it is important not to lose sight of the fact that, beyond Pastor Mackenzie and the specific relationship between him and his congregants, these dilemmas point to broader issues around civic distrust, deepening social precarity, and state-society disarticulation that transcend Kenya as a country. At the same time, far from the irreligious monster that an understandably frustrated President Ruto takes him to be, as a sociological type, Pastor Mackenzie is as a matter of fact a familiar and ubiquitous presence across the African Pentecostal landscape, the beneficiary and driver of profound alterations in the social structure of many African countries. In the epicentres of the Pentecostal resurgence in Africa (Nigeria, Zambia, Ghana, Zimbabwe, and Kenya) “Men of God” like Pastor Nthenge cast a growing shadow over politics, the economy, education, and increasingly, popular culture, raising fundamental questions about the location of authority as the state continues its acknowledged retreat from people’s lives.
Pastor Mackenzie is as a matter of fact a familiar and ubiquitous presence across the African Pentecostal landscape.
If that is the case, the real question is not about Pastor Mackenzie in specific relation to his enchanted parishioners, though that itself is illuminating, but about the outsize influence of his tribe of Pentecostal pastors in the lives of their congregations and the larger public across various African countries. As “existential micromanagers”, pastors increasingly “play god” in a variety of life situations, from congregants’ choice of spouses and sexual partners to seemingly mundane decisions about what to eat, what to wear, and, in a few eyebrow-raising cases involving female church members, when to undress.
In order to answer the question of pastoral influence successfully, the antecedent question of why religion, particularly Charismatic Christianity, has come to occupy such a prominent role in people’s lives must be discharged. As the extensive literature on the subject has copiously documented, popular desperation for meaning and anchor in the aftermath of the economic crisis of the 1980s precipitated a spiritual turn that simultaneously transformed the social landscape in favour of religious authorities and changed the terms of social engagement in favour of sundry spiritual agents and intermediaries. Put differently, recourse to the authority of the spiritual increased in direct proportion to the decline of the state.
Pentecostalism was particularly primed to take advantage of this emergent formation. Armed with a coherent theory that grounds both private crisis and public underdevelopment in an intangible realm of spirits, it found easy appeal among sections of the underclass who had become frustrated at the protracted failure and hit-and-miss explanations of secular institutions. This is not to say that Pentecostalism is an exclusively underclass phenomenon, though poverty is an undoubted lubricant. Among the educated classes pegged back by the sudden freeze in social mobility, Pentecostalism’s theology of prosperity resonated. Across the class spectrum, its contagious sensuality and theological deregulation furnished opportunities for self-making not otherwise available in the mainline churches.
Pastoring is the centrepiece of this new-fangled space for self-curation and the expected upward mobility. In a majority of cases, and unlike what obtains in the mainline churches, “calling” is the only “certification” needed to become a Pentecostal pastor. For instance, we are not surprised to learn that Mackenzie, after years of a dogged quest for stability, including a stint as a street hawker and taxi driver respectively, eventually found his “calling” as a pastor, following the same path as many young African men caught between peer pestering to “catch up” and “fit in”, and communal pressures to “become someone”. In this regard, the correlation between the crisis of masculinity in Africa and the popularity of pastoring becomes difficult to ignore.
For many young men, the attraction of pastoring is almost irresistible. In a status-conscious African society, it is the quickest route to social eminence and prestige without the rigours and uncertainties of professional certification. At the same time, such is the high regard in which pastors are held that, oftentimes, being a pastor is as good as living in a state of (ecclesiastical) exception.
As pastoring has become socially irresistible, so has the pastorate become a prime target for elite political co-optation. In many African countries, Kenya included, the pastor-politician alliance has become a key component of elite dealmaking. Unsurprisingly, the ongoing battle for political supremacy between President Ruto and opposition leader Raila Odinga has devolved into a battle among Kenya’s clerical elite. In Kenya as elsewhere, the pastor-politician alliance is a model of mutual gratification. While the politician seeks a path to the pastor’s vast following and connections within civil society, the pastor desires the perks and preferments available only through political access. In a continent-wide arms race for political capital and social prestige, the pastor and the politician are joined at the hip.
Following the Shakahola discovery, the Kenyan government has promised to crack down on “fringe religious outfits” in the country. President Ruto has vowed to “get to the root cause and to the bottom of the activities of . . . people who want to use religion to advance weird, unacceptable ideology”. Many church leaders apparently agree with the government. For example, the Coast Christian Clergy, comprising clerics under the auspices of the Evangelical Alliance of Kenya (EAK), thinks it should be mandatory for preachers and churches to “identify with” umbrella bodies with “guides or codes of conduct”. Other religious leaders have urged the government to drop the hammer on “fake pastors” who “use religion as a cover to carry out their illegal activities that harm society”.
In a continent-wide arms race for political capital and social prestige, the pastor and the politician are joined at the hip.
While the outrage is understandable, this may be easier said than done. While “regulation” or “monitoring” is a good idea in the abstract, the devil is, as always, in the detail. For one thing, it is not entirely clear what exactly is to be regulated and how such can be implemented without infringing upon the individual’s rights to freedom of worship, a right guaranteed by the Kenyan constitution. Furthermore, as our analysis in the foregoing has shown, the state itself is hardly an impartial arbiter in these matters. True, the Kenyan political elite may not have any direct links with the Good News International Church. However, and crucially, it is deeply imbricated with the Pentecostal pastorate and the Kenyan Christian elite. Kenya’s first family is a Pentecostal family; both Ruto and his wife, Rachel, are born-again Christians. In September last year, after Ruto’s victory at the polls was upheld by the Kenyan Supreme Court, the new president invited about 40 evangelical pastors led by popular televangelist Mark Kariuki to “purify” the presidential residence in Nairobi “until all the evil forces are driven out”.
Finally, and as experience from other societies has shown, it is not always easy to claw back from the state powers handed over to it in an emergency. If the state is allowed to “regulate” what churches can and cannot do, what about the rest of civil society?
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Reina Patel contributed to the research for this article.
Politics
Smallholder Agriculture and the Challenge of Feeding Ourselves
In the first of a series on smallholder agriculture, Christine Gatwiri discusses the challenges facing small-scale Kenyan farmers.

Most farms, they say up to 70 per cent, that produce our everyday food crops— cabbage, carrots, onions, tomatoes, beans, green grams and peas—are small-scale. The landholding averages 0.2 to 3 acres and is mainly family owned. Crops like maize and wheat are grown on a large scale in some parts of the country. However, overall, most food is produced by smallholders who practice subsistence farming, selling only the surplus.
Some regions specialize in one crop type. For example, rice and legumes such as peas, green grams, beans and chickpeas are grown in mid- and lower-eastern Kenya. Those who specialize also tend to consider land leasing options and take a commercial approach to farming. They consider the costs of their inputs versus the value of the output, compared to the average subsistence farmer who only sells the surplus.
At this scale of operation, mechanization is complex—and most farms utilize human labour for crop production activities like planting, weeding and harvesting. Tractors might be used for initial ploughing and harvesters might be used to harvest crops like rice and wheat. But access to mechanization is limited by scale.
The use of improved seeds depends on the individual farmer. Some might buy certified seeds, while others prefer to use seeds from previous harvests. Overall, a lot is invested in the form of capital, labour and time. However, without the benefit of large economies of scale, smallholder farmers are not able to maximize the returns to get the full value of their investment.
Over-reliance on rain as a source of water
It is said that crops do not need rain; they need water. On small-scale farms, crops are planted to coincide with the rainy seasons. But rains do fail as they have for the last few years, and with that, the crops fail too. Irrigation systems are available in some pockets of the rural areas, particularly where farmers have organized themselves into groups to source and pipe water to their farms. However, this is the exception.
Those in peri-urban areas are more likely to have irrigation infrastructure that guarantees year-round production. They tend to grow vegetables such as onions, tomatoes, cabbages and leafy greens. Peri-urban farmers’ proximity to urban markets where the demand for these types of farm produce is high guarantees better prices and a return on investment. They are therefore more likely to invest in irrigation infrastructure.
The rural-urban divide
Where a farmer is situated, their proximity to the market and the immediate food needs of that market influence the type of crops grown or livestock kept. The majority of peri-urban farmers focus on growing food for urban dwellers. They might focus on livestock such as poultry to provide eggs and meat as well as indigenous vegetables that have a ready market.
In rural areas, food crops serve immediate family needs, and the surplus is sold or stored. However, as most rural farmers tend to grow the same types of crops, the surplus does not always have a ready market. Poultry is kept and vegetables are also grown, but to a lesser extent than on peri-urban farms. In addition, rural smallholders grow other types of food crops—including bananas, potatoes, beans and maize—to a greater extent than do peri-urban farmers.
Aggregators seeking to supply major towns with food often traverse the countryside collecting produce from farmers. This is a major logistical challenge as buyers have to travel long distances, often on poor roads, to fill up their lorry, pay cess fees across counties and take on the risk of transporting perishable commodities. For example, avocados that ripen and spoil during transportation are discarded. The remaining fruits still have to compensate for the cost of transport. All these challenges contribute to increasing the cost of food in urban areas.
This dual nature of smallholder agriculture poses additional challenges such as: What market are you farming for and what control does the farmer have over the market? Peri-urban farmers have a better grip on their markets and consumer needs. But are rural farmers the invisible party whose work is to produce while someone else dictates market prices and conditions? Is this not the same problem we have with our tea and coffee?
Farming as a side hustle
Farming is a side job for most small-scale farmers. The farmers are engaged in other economic activities to support themselves financially. In the rural areas, they might own a business—a small eatery or a hardware store at the shopping centre, for instance. In peri-urban areas, they might own similar businesses or be employed at a government or private firm.
The farm is not always perceived as a commercial enterprise with considerations about business expenses and revenues. Splitting time between the farm and other economic activities means the farmer is not able to devote much time to it or even expect much from it. They employ farm managers and labourers to manage it, often leading to “telephone farming”, with its share of mismanagement and misappropriation of resources.
The farm is not always perceived as a commercial enterprise with considerations about business expenses and revenues.
Without taking the farm as a serious commercial activity worth of dedicated time and investment, it is no wonder resources are poured in without matching outputs to show for it. But can farmers live on income from a small-scale enterprise only? Probably not.
Transportation and agricultural logistics: The middleman
As mentioned above, transportation is a challenge for most small-scale farmers. Access to an almost-free-to use van/lorry/pickup is a prerequisite as the means of transport factors in two ways. First, taking your farm produce to market yourself can mean a difference in the profit made. Without transport, middlemen or brokers come in; they swarm at individual farmers’ farms dictating quantities and prices. Without alternatives, and staring at already spoiling produce, farmers sell their produce at giveaway prices. Hiring farm transport as an alternative can be expensive, especially with the high cost of fuel. It increases the cost of operations, eating up the already marginal profits.
While taking the produce to the market is not always a viable option—remember farmers have other things to do—it is still an option when you have transport. Peri-urban farmers have found a way around this—loading up produce in their personal cars and selling from their car boots in the evenings.
At a small scale, it is imperative to consider the costs of operations as they can rack up fast, turning losses every year. This has discouraged many, and despair and hopelessness are common among farmers today. For how long can you put in the effort daily but still have failed crops and losses every year? Without a say in the transport and marketing of their produce, farmers will always be at the mercy of brokers.
The agrovet model of farmer education
When rural or peri-urban small-scale farmers need information about a particular crop or livestock pest they approach the local agrovet who advises them on which product to buy and apply. In this context the agrovet is king, supplying products and providing vital information regarding pest and disease control and crop and livestock management and productivity.
With the breakdown of public-funded extension services, farmers adopt a product-first approach to addressing pest or disease problems. This is not only expensive but also potentially harmful to the farmer, the produce, the environment and the end consumer. With profit incentives in mind, the agrovet may not always guide the farmer appropriately in the use of pesticides. They might recommend their own products even where a more conservative approach would be sufficient.
With the breakdown of public-funded extension services, farmers adopt a product-first approach to addressing pest or disease problems.
Without proper guidance on use, safe handling and disposal, the result is farm produce with higher than recommended levels of pesticide residues, chemical-damaged soils and toxicity to beneficial insects and other members of the farm ecosystem.
Traceability and food safety monitoring
As described above, small-scale farming is too fragmented and this has consequences for food safety. It is almost impossible to monitor the produce from each farm—the levels of pesticide residues, and the storage and post-harvest processes that affect food quality and safety.
When government agencies monitor food safety, they do so at the market level, after it has been aggregated and sold to retailers. It is therefore difficult to trace produce back to the farm from which it originated. The alternative, self-regulation by individual farmers, would be too high an expectation.
For the consumer, trying “to eat healthy” can cause more harm than good. You try to add more leafy greens but they are contaminated with factory/sewage waste. Add more fruits? They have high pesticide residues. More nuts and grains? There’s probably aflatoxin waiting for you.
When government agencies monitor food safety, they do so at the market level, after it has been aggregated and sold to retailers.
Large retailers are able to bypass the fragmented nature of small-scale agriculture and source produce directly from farmers. This way, they have better control over quality and safety, albeit at a premium price.
Inequalities such as these can cause harm because you not only have to buy the food, but you also have to pay extra for its safety/quality.
Is there a way out?
Small-scale agriculture as it is practiced today is too impractical to be profitable. The costs of production are high and a lot of the production aspects are still outside the farmer’s control. Huge investments are made in terms of labour, money and time without outputs to show for it. Unless a farmer is growing food for their own personal use, more deliberate efforts should be made to enhance production, minimize costs and ensure the safety of the produce. Is there a way to apply to small-scale farming the methods used in large-scale operations? Small-scale agriculture may be difficult to reform but creating farming zones could simulate large-scale operations in small-scale settings.
Politics
God Tax the King
The British royal family has tried to shake off its colonial past. But its long reign over these wrongs was succeeded by a new form of plunder, exacted today by Britain’s tax haven empire.

The world’s biggest tax haven empire has a new king. King Charles III will be anointed, blessed, and consecrated on May 6. He is sovereign over Great Britain, the Crown Dependencies, and the British Overseas Territories, which collectively inflict nearly 40 percent of the tax revenue losses around the world.
Britain was starting to spin its web of tax havens around the time Charles was born in the late 1940s. Britain allowed and often encouraged this insidious second empire as many nations were breaking from the shackles of European and British colonialism. Currently, British tax havens aid and abet multinational corporations shifting profits out of the countries where most of the real business happens. Wealthy and powerful individuals are also able to hide money and assets behind the secretive laws of the spider’s web.
The Tax Justice Network—a coalition of activists, and scholars campaigning against tax avoidance—sent an open letter to King Charles urging the monarch to address the economic and human cost imposed by the British tax havens over which he is sovereign. The letter details the organization’s latest research which estimates that British tax havens mete out a total tax loss of more than US$189 billion per year on the world. The total tax losses are more than three times the humanitarian aid budget the UN needs this year to help 230 million people living on the brink after multiple disasters.
While Britain’s overseas aid has dwindled in recent years, unwinding the web of tax havens instead would help many governments fulfill the rights of their citizens. If we were to reverse the tax revenue losses caused by the UK spider’s web, there would be 36 million more people with access to basic sanitation, 18 million more people with access to basic drinking water, and almost seven million children could attend school for an extra year, according to the Universities of St. Andrews and Leicester modeling tool GRADE.
Yet, the British political establishment doesn’t look ready to reform. Successive Conservative prime ministers and their families have been fingered in leaks and investigations, including the Panama and Pandora Papers. The wife of current British Prime Minister Rishi Sunak also played the tax game, avoiding an estimated £2.1 million per year in taxes from foreign income.
The British government has also undermined efforts to transform international tax law. For the last 60 years, the UK—along with the exclusive club of the richest nations at the Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD)—has set rules to their benefit. African states, in an act of defiance, presented a resolution at the United Nations in November 2022 that paves the way for negotiations on an international tax cooperation framework at the UN instead. The UK and its OECD friends unsuccessfully pulled out all the stops to prevent a vote, and spoke out against the resolution, but ultimately joined in its unanimous adoption. They will likely throw many hurdles in the way to stop negotiations from getting off the ground at the UN General Assembly later this year, as their initial input to the Secretary-General’s Tax Report makes clear.
In his speech to the Commonwealth Heads of Government in Rwanda last year, King Charles, then Prince of Wales, expressed his sorrow over Britain’s “most painful period of history.” “To unlock the power of our common future,” he said, “we must also acknowledge the wrongs which have shaped our past.”
The British royalty’s long reign over these wrongs was succeeded by a new form of plunder, exacted today by Britain’s tax haven empire. King Charles has an opportunity to stop the clock running on this plunder. As the inheritor of the British Crown and its legacy, King Charles could use his unique position to encourage dialogue on UN leadership over international tax rules—a move that could pivot the course and legacies of history—and support the right of African countries to exercise sovereignty over their taxing rights at the UN General Assembly.
At home, the King might rightly argue that he has no business interfering in the UK government’s policies. It may be His Majesty’s Government, but it’s a democratically elected government of its people. We should not expect Charles to outline his positions on the need for the UK finally to meet its commitments to end anonymous companies that make it too easy for criminals and would-be tax evaders to hide assets and illicit money, or to introduce public country-by-country reporting so that multinational companies’ tax abuse remains largely out of sight. In the UK, the reporting would have increased corporate income tax by £2.5 billion per year.
What we can hope for, however, is that the new King will set the tone for the end of his tax haven empire. By acknowledging publicly Britain’s leading global role in tax abuse, and the human costs this imposes all around the world, Charles could make a necessary break from the history of imperial and royal denial. He could point the way to reparative funding for territories that make up the tax haven empire, as well as to those countries in Africa and elsewhere where the empire’s most violent extraction took place.
Extensive slavery routes and sanctioned colonial pillaging all added jewels to the crown over centuries, some of which make appearances at coronations. King Charles himself also has some questionable wealth and tax practices. Without changes in its tax havens and the global tax rules, Britain will continue to rack up its bill of reparations to former colonies.
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This post is from a partnership between Africa Is a Country and The Elephant. We will be publishing a series of posts from their site once a week.
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