Hello Everybody:
@Ephraim Ben Raphael gave me permission to post this.
Lusotropicalism And A Managed Transition
Lourenco Marques, The Overseas Mandate of Mozambique, Estado Novo, 2019
The first stop on my journey is Salisbury, the capital of the Rhodesian Commonwealth [1]. If not for the African and Indian faces, I would think I would be walking around in an English city, with red phone booths, pubs, teenagers in school uniforms, cricket, and old school British architecture everywhere.
Of course, Rhodesians have not merely emulated their former colonial power.. I also see lots of A-Pop [2], shamans in traditional garbs, and old-fashioned market places where farmers sell their produce. Here in Salisbury, European and Indian tradition walks hand in hand with Indigenous culture, while forming a distinct Rhodesian culture alongside the other three.
At a semi-legal grill restaurant in the Chitungwiza district [3], I meet my host. He insists on some secrecy, fearing that Lisbon's agents might be out to get him.
I go to the back of the restaurant, and shake hands with Mr. Aleixo Savimbi. Clad in sweatpants and a sweatshirt to present an obscure image, he looks at me with a very serious eye, as he prepares me for my trip.
“Do not let them fool you,” Savimbi warns. “These people are masters of propaganda.” His tone indicates he has no pity for the unprepared. After coaching me on what to expect, and who to meet, I ask him personal questions about his time as a member of the "assimilados", the indigenous elite supposedly being groomed to prepare Mozambique for independence. I will explore his answers as I explore the land that he left.
Savimbi is an exiled political dissident from Mozambique. In this world, he is notorious for exposing the grim reality behind what has been portrayed as a compromise between the white minority and indigenous needs in a book called
My Necktie was My Chain.
The plane trip to Mozambique can only be believed by those who have seen it. The advertising is a far more in-your-face then on my original flight to Salisbury, with numerous references to “Beautiful Portugal,” “Cherished Portugal”, and pictures of supposedly content Africans on the plane and on the in flight video. Security here is far more intrusive. Instead of the usual “business and pleasure” question I was asked by the customs official in Salisbury, the Estado Novo customs asked me various personal questions, as well as if I have any plans to overthrow “the great Portuguese society.” I am forced to declare all my personal items, which makes me glad I took Savimbi’s advice to disguise my cameras.
The planes are more luxurious then the Rhodesian Air cabin I took. I also notice the stewardesses, all of them of Portuguese ancestry, are incredibly beautiful. In fact, they are quite scantily clad despite this being a society that promotes "Catholic values."
Also, strangely enough for this multi-racial utopia, there isn’t a single black passenger on this plane.
Africa is always a place full of surprises. In many worlds, Africa has been the chessboard upon which major powers battled for supremacy, due to its distinct geographic and economic disadvantages preventing the formation of large, industrial societies that could resist outside interference. This leaves them with a variety of cultures, languages, and traditions. It also has led to unspeakable acts of horror committed by the so-called "civilized powers".
In many worlds, however, independence often became inevitability, as the colonial elites learned that the natives can easily learn the same subversive political ideas that lead to nationalistic movements in Europe, and they can also learn to pick up rifles and make the suppression of dissent incredibly costly. The choice was either independence by negotiation or independence by bullet for European powers.
In this world, independence for African nations arrived largely by the 1980s. In some cases, independence led to a successful transition, with Rhodesia and Algeria becoming thriving independent, multiethnic societies. For some African nations, however, independence was bloody and tragic. German Mittelafrika, for example, descended into a bloodbath due to decades of exploitation and divide and rule tactics.
Mozambique, is, shall we say, a mixed bag.
“Mozambique, we have avoided the Mittelafrika mistake", says Antonio Nikebaka, my tuxedo wearing tour guide (who I suspect was hired by the government to put a black face on their "transition policy") who greets me at Salazar Airport in Lourenco Marques. “We are managing a proper transition, ensuring the black majority can be prepared for independence.” Though I insisted on my own tour, he strongly suggested I ride with him in his Rolls-Royce, a luxury brand in many of the worlds I have visited.
We tour the wealthy districts of Mozambique, as well as the bustling downtown business district. In both areas, it appears that the future is bright, with skyscrapers going up like crazy, and the streets full of luxury cars and well-to-do people.
“Lourenco Marques has been rated as a number one in African business in many magazines”, Antonio says to me with a smile, as I stare out the window.
But one thing you notice as you drive through this bustling city is that almost all the people living in these well-to-do districts are white. The few black faces I've seen in these upscale areas seem to be manual laborers.
After 30 minutes of seeing flashy buildings and hearing endless pro-Portuguese bromides, we arrive at his house in a modest middle-class neighborhood a few blocks from the downtown. We get out of the Rolls Royce his chauffeur gives him a greeting with a smile that is unusually robotic.
Antonio enjoys a good bit of luxury, with a pool and some servants, who also behave in the same robotic matter then the chauffeur does. We chat over a lunch of caldo verde [4] , where I ask him my questions after I politely respond to his questions about how "great" Mozambique is.
Here in Mozambique and the rest of Portuguese Africa, old-school colonialism reigns over the land under a different name and the hooks of power still strongly rest in the metropole of Portugal.
Portugal in this world is a mess of contradictions: it is technically a republic, but it is in fact a one-party republic, and far less democratic than Hohenzollern Germany[5]. It has secularism in its constitution, but it is very theocratic and clerical, even to the very staunchly pro-Vatican Irish. The Estado Novo government speaks of modernism, but the rural areas are so poor, that a Portuguese farmer from the early 20th century wouldn't feel out of place.
The reigning ideology of Portugal dates back to the 1930s, when Antonio de Oliveira Salazar became the reigning autocrat in all but name, and his reactionary ideology and image dominate Portuguese politics to the present.
“Salazar was a good man who knew that God’s word needed to be spread,” Antonio says with unusual conviction.
One aspect of Salazar's ideology is luso-tropicalism. While most colonial powers saw their presence in Africa as a civilizing mission, Salazar argued that colonies were a crucial part of the Portuguese national identity, and that it was the destiny of the Portuguese to maintain their colonies.
As most nations prepared their colonies for independence or gave up futile colonial wars, the Estado Novo regime stepped up colonization, offering land-grants and other benefits to Portuguese and other Catholic people. By 1990, 35% of Mozambicans were white, which meant there was a large colonial population that had little interest in letting go of their privilege.
When the African wave hit, Portugal fought back hard. By the 1990s, however, Portugal realized it couldn't keep the African wave down without either revolt by young Portuguese or stepping up the atrocities that would bring international scrutiny. In 1999, the Lisbon regime instead promised what has been dubbed " a managed transition", whereby they would prepare the colony for independence by created "assimilados" or a class of natives who could rule the country. This quieted domestic dissent and made the international community far less critical, especially those nations who wanted to enjoy their investments in Portuguese Africa without shame.
Under the assimilado system, supposedly, indigenous Mozambicans could gain voting rights, once they had adopted "Portuguese values" and could be trusted with independence.
“You learn to accept God, family, and the Portuguese language,” Antonio says with simplicity, “and you can get voting rights.” As he says this, one of Antonio’s indigenous servants come in, pouring more caldo verde into his bowl. The woman, dressed in a maid's outfit smiles and nods in a way that seems almost sycophantic, due to the strained smile on her face.
"Mittelafrika was because the Kaiser didn't prepare a nation to declare itself independent," Antonio said. "The natives should be thankful to the Portuguese trying to prevent this calamity."
Mittelafrika was indeed a massive disaster. The large territory, united under German rule, broke down amidst the sudden withdrawal of German forces, the eruption of tribal rivalries, and the withdrawal of German advisers. Mittelafrika has long been the propaganda tool used by colonial elites to maintain control over Africa.
I bring up some of Ronaldo’s claims, which contradict the idea that Portugal is doing much to help out the natives.
“What do you say to those people who say the system is just Portugal’s excuse to prolong colonialism?” I ask and he immediately gives me a smile, while giving me a hard look.
“The Portuguese are our friends,” he says in a way that makes it seem like he is reading a script. “They only want to be sure that we are ready.”
“Well,” I stated, “it has been about 20 years-,”
“And you think Brazil was ready in that time,” Antonio says, his voice replaced with anger. “All our delays are the result of godless nationalists who want to unleash Mittelafrika.”
I almost want to point out that Brazil gained independence after three centuries, while Mozambique has been part of Portugal for about five centuries, but this display by my host prevents me from asking uncomfortable questions.
After some small talk, I graciously leave Antonio's house. I go on a special tour of my own that the authorities don't know about.
I arrive in the Mengeke district, one not shown on my tour, for a good reason. While business magazines and pro-government papers do boast about Mozambique’s “economic competitiveness”, the benefits are not seen here.
This district, which is largely indigenous, looks like a slum, with narrow, filthy streets, poor lighting, bad sanitation, and tired people. Many of the workers are migrants from rural areas, who have been denied promises wages.
"I left the North to come looking for work," yells one man, "and when I arrive, I only get half of what I was promised! Lisbon is a bunch of bandits."
I arrive in specific shack, and after a special knock, I arrive and meet Aleixo again.
“Economic competitiveness,” Aleixo repeats with contempt. “Economic competitiveness means that people should be poor so that the rich can have nicer balances on their accounting reports.”
In Mozambique, the trade-off for managed transition falls on indigenous workers. Many of them work long hours with little pay. With no voting or collective bargaining power they have little legal recourse.
For Aleixo, his experience as an assimilado shielded him from this squalor.
“Assimilado meant becoming a slavedriver while living inside of a golden prison,” Ronald says with disgust and shame.
Aleixo, being the son of an assimilado, avoided the poverty and hardship that a lot of Mozambican natives faced. However, when he had to take the test himself, he soon realized how hypocritical it was.
The tests themselves cost about $3000 to take, which precludes the vast majority of native Mozambicans from taking it. Not to mention that many wealthy foreigners can simply buy citizenship and “assimilado status” without even jumping thorough hurdles, with the only requirement being that have to profess a vague belief in Roman Catholicism. Only about 3% percent of black Mozambicans qualify as assimilados, yet 90% of non-Portuguese expatriates do.
On paper, the assimilado exam seems almost like a citizenship test: one just has to answer specific questions. However, there are quite a bit of asterisks involved.
“The test is itself pointless,” Aleixo says. “The grader can arbitrarily decide if you past or not. The real test is seeing whether or not you kiss his feet, or how much you praised Family and God. He can fail you for not wearing the right shoes, or for even showing up early.”
Aleixo says these actions have a sinister motive: training him into kowtowing to authority.
“I am basically taught to see any white man as lord. The examiner isn’t there to teach me anything, except to heed my place.”
Even when Aleixo did gain assimilado status, he still found himself under the microscope of what he calls an “assimaldo officer,” well into his thirties.
“This man basically reports on anything I do,” Aleixo said. “Any action that I do that is seen as abnormal-not going to church, not eating the right thing-he can report me, and take my status away.”
His first job as an assimilado is what prompted his defection. He was told to be a police officer in these very slums, which he hadn’t noticed until his first assignment.
“Here I learned that the Portuguese didn’t provide for the people of Mozambique,” Aleixo said with anger. “here I learned the lie about how the Lisbon pigs push for Christian compassion.”
After being accosted by an angry slum dweller, Aleixo was forced to confront the unequal system he lived under. He snuck his way out of the country and ended up Rhodesia, where he has lobbied against international support of the Lisbon government and pushed for the end of Portuguese colonialism.
“The world needs to stop putting people above profit, and realize the assimilado program is just colonial exploitation under a different name.”
As I drive to the airport, once again accompanied by Antonio, I bring up Aleixo's name without having mentioned visited him the night before. His face immediately turns sour, showing that Ronaldo’s name is indeed infamous.
“Aleixo is just ungrateful,” Antonio says with bile, “he was shown the glory of God and Family, and he spat on that because he believed he desired more, the man is nothing but an atheist liar.” His repeats the same spurious accusations that other Portuguese officials have spat at him, as they demand his extradition for treason.
[1] OTL Zimbabwe, Zambia, and Malawi.
[2] African Pop. I figure a richer African nation ITTL might have a middle class that can create its own pop.
[3] OTL, one of the Harare slums that was destroyed by Mugabe's slum clearance.
[4] A Portuguese soup.
[5] Germany won World War I in this TL. The Hohenzollern eventually became constitutional.