What is the state of copyright in Africa today, when specialists in the field, notably in the USA, are sounding the alarm? Taking as its starting point a right that emerged in the West in the twilight of the nineteenth century, this article examines the ways in which copyright is discussed, established and experienced in sub-Saharan Africa. It questions the relevance of the vocabulary used and asks how Africa can be made intelligible in the context of a heterogeneous world. Since the 1990s, international organizations have promoted and imposed the economic notion of material goods, inventing a new tradition. The result is a heritage, the commons, that is reduced to a resource divorced from any historical or social context. How can we go beyond these rights, which are a source of a ‘promise economy’ for creators, to promote imprescriptible and inalienable human rights? How can experienced creators resist copyright that takes them back to the Middle Ages?

In studies of violence against women and children during the Covid-19 pandemic, as well as in explanations of men’s increased vulnerability to the disease, the concept of ‘toxic masculinity’ regularly surfaces. However, direct research on men’s perspectives on the pandemic’s impact on them as men remains scarce. Drawing on interview data on urban Nigerian men’s lived experiences and narratives of the epidemic in relation to their identities and roles as men, I explore whether toxic masculinity was emblematic of men’s responses to the Covid-19 socio-economic crisis. While I found little evidence of the men’s reliance on toxic masculine practices to maintain their identities as men during the pandemic, their accounts revealed something quite significant: the reconstitution of masculine success in terms of the ability to adjust to the times by discontinuing practices that, while once essential to their identity as men, now threatened their image as capable providers. These adjustments, which frequently involved resorting to practices that would be considered unmanly, were constituted as part of the routine situational pivots that ‘real’ men must make, in keeping with their role as all-weather providers. I conclude with a reflection on how so-called non-heteronormative male performances might still mask gender inequalities and perpetuate certain aspects of patriarchal power.

When the American political scientist James C. Scott passed away in July 2024, tributes praised him as one of the most influential thinkers of his generation.1 Building on years of ethnographic research in Southeast Asia, his numerous books offered new ways of thinking about subaltern resistance, as well as the mechanisms of state oppression and control. A self-professed anarchist, he organized against the Vietnam War as a junior faculty at the University of Wisconsin in the latter part of the 1960s, and he maintained a forty-six-acre farm for decades while teaching at Yale. While obituaries widely remembered Scott as a figure of integrity, some dissonant voices on social media commented more negatively on his involvement with the CIA as a young man and as a leader in the United States National Student Association (USNSA). The political scientist Karen Puget first brought this episode in Scott’s life to light in a book that carefully exposed the ties of the USNSA with US intelligence (Puget 2015). Puget showed how, in the 1950s and 1960s, what was then the most important student organization in the USA allowed itself to be fully infiltrated by the government. The young liberal-minded students at the helm of the organization worked hand in hand with CIA handlers to curb Soviet influence among their peer organizations in Europe, Asia and Africa. For a few years, after graduating from Williams College and before embarking on his doctoral studies at Yale, Scott occupied a prominent role among these young shadow Cold Warriors, first as the USNSA’s representative in Paris and later as its vice president in charge of international affairs.

I want to say what a privilege it is to be invited to comment on Jeremiah Arowosegbe’s article ‘African universities and the challenge of postcolonial development’. First and foremost, this is because Arowosegbe’s piece is exactly the kind of intervention we need more of: passionately written, politically engaged commentaries on the state of African universities today by scholars based on the continent who are invested in charting the best way forward for their institutions. African universities have been in a kind of Janus-faced state for at least the last decade, if not longer. On the one hand, institutions with records of having been among the world’s most exciting universities of the 1960s and 1970s – Makerere, Ibadan, Dar es Salaam – have had to endure a near total, decades-long collapse driven by austerity programmes imposed by the International Monetary Fund (IMF) and forced on African states from the 1980s. This is a crisis that undoubtably lingers – indeed, Arowosegbe makes it his focus – and these universities have had to struggle not to be entirely defined by this story of lack and of failure. On the other hand, some of these institutions (including those named above) have come through the fire of this collapse and have emerged with new life that cannot be reduced to mere tendrils. On the contrary: the continent’s top dozen or so universities are today producing students who will very likely become the world’s next generation of humanists, social scientists and hard scientists focused on Africa, and beyond too. The pipeline for this present generation of students often now runs from undergraduate and master’s programmes in Africa, to top doctoral programmes in North America and Europe, to these students being the most competitive candidates for the mini-boom (relatively speaking) in tenure-track positions in disciplinary scholarship and pedagogy focused on Africa. Amidst a more general withering of the humanities in globally northern universities, African and Black Studies constitute a partial exception to the dying throes of higher education as we know it and are part of a laudable and long overdue diversification of the field. Adding to the reconfiguration of African Studies’ landscape of labour, the dramatic shortage of viable jobs in North America and the UK is making the job market for graduates of the world’s top PhD programmes a truly global one that includes Africa prominently. Not since the 1960s have we seen the prospect of top African universities being realistically able to attract new scholars trained in the global North to base themselves in Africa – a potential boon to African universities (even if one that remains more in potentia than realized).

The impact of neoliberalism on the world university system has been widely debated. Trends in the global North today show not only the tighter managerialism that comes with cuts to university funding and commercialization, but also competition for fee-paying ‘student customers’ and casualization of academic staff in an era of increased international student mobility. There are louder calls for quality enhancement and more inclusive learning environments regulated and indexed by global rankings. In the global South and in Africa in particular, the same factors also drive institutional and infrastructural decadence amidst other postcolonial factors that have brought wider confrontation between the state and university staff and student bodies, which constitute the subject of this discussion.

In his latest article, ‘African universities and the challenge of postcolonial development’, Jeremiah O. Arowosegbe argues convincingly that public universities in Africa are in crisis, and that this crisis reflects the failure of postcolonial states to build the societies promised by anti-colonial liberation. He is certainly correct that the political economy of higher education (HE) in postcolonial Africa is a much-neglected topic, and his article is even more welcome for that reason. As a scholar with an extensive career in Nigerian public universities, Arowosegbe has also undertaken research fellowships in Germany, Netherlands, Sweden, Switzerland, South Africa and the USA. Now he finds himself at the University of Leeds in the UK. He has experienced much from within and reflected deeply from afar on the state of universities in Nigeria and across the continent. His article is a serious work of reflection and scholarship, crafted and refined over years of engagement. Therefore, his serious charges on the state of the universities in Africa cannot be dismissed lightly.

Jeremiah O. Arowosegbe’s essay ‘African universities and the challenge of postcolonial development’ sheds significant light on political and economic influences, freedom within academia, and the role of these institutions within wider socio-political contexts. I want to endorse some of his proposals and make additional suggestions to comprehend the complexities and potential directions of African universities.

Arowosegbe’s (2023) treatise on the crisis of higher education across the African continent raises many issues about the failures of Africa’s postcolonial states and the situations of the continent’s public universities. His courage in bringing to the fore the predicaments of Africa’s public universities is commendable. Two issues in particular attract my attention. First, while he underscores the strained relations between the state and the academy and recognizes the existence of some divergent ideological underpinnings therein, his account neglects the impacts of ideological contradictions on society’s political stability and socio-economic development. Second, his account omits the quandaries of private universities in Africa, an aspect of higher education across the continent that should not be overlooked if one is to holistically appreciate the predicaments of Africa’s universities within the context of the role of the postcolonial state.

In his article ‘African universities and the challenge of postcolonial development’, Jeremiah Arowosegbe discusses the trajectory of universities in postcolonial Africa, drawing particularly on the experiences of public universities in Nigeria. Arowosegbe accounts for the state of the institutions against the backdrop of ‘hostile material conditions and uncongenial political control’, which continue to ‘undermine institutional autonomy and the integrity of scholarship’. This think piece reflects on the particular case of the state of humanities scholarship in Nigeria in the face of persistent onslaught on academia.

He may have died tragically young, but Binyavanga Wainaina’s brilliance lives on. His caustic skewering of white journalism – ‘How to write about Africa’ – was first published in Granta in 2005 (Wainaina 2005). It remains a vital anti-guide to sweeping generalizations and cheap condescension. By comparison, writing about African universities should be easy. After all, aren’t most of us already insiders within, if not institutionalized by, higher education? There lies the rub. Academography, to use Eli Thorkelson’s pithy neologism, is much harder than it looks.

I am grateful to all the authors who contributed thoughtful reflections on my 2016 and 2023 articles; and to the editors of Africa for calling on me to have the last word and write back in a compelling conversation on knowledge production and the crisis of public universities in Africa. It is time to pull the strings together. As I seek to do this, my aim is less to answer – collectively or individually – the authors and their contributions to my articles. Rather, I endeavour to put on record further thoughts on issues about which I have been silent in earlier publications. In pursuit of a longstanding interest in (1) how knowledge is produced on non-metropolitan societies, (2) the future directions of postcolonial universities, and (3) the relations of knowledge and power in Africa, I ask further questions and examine new archives and bodies of evidence. I appreciate the difficulty of ignoring the economic determinants of Africa’s material base – built as it is on dependent and disarticulated capitalist economies. In recounting my lived experience as an eyewitness to university life in Africa, and in shedding more light on the historical problems that I grapple with, I acknowledge change and continuity in historical explanations and the historiographies of my universe. In the present as in the past, the sense of sight shapes experience. I admit, with Ludmilla Jordanova (2012: 3), that vision has a history and that objects necessarily play a central role within it.1 As Peter Burke (2008) has shown, looking at alternative evidence and records enables one to examine historical problems and subjects in a different and hopefully renewed way. Historians therefore ask different and new questions. Such questions are informed by the changing nature of the environments and universes of analysis, historiography and historical scholarship. These activities demand continuous examination of existing arguments and conclusions against the backdrop of changing evidence and facts. Understood as the best intellectual imagery of modern society, I turn to the postcolonial universities in Africa. Ultimately, this effort, together with my other works, should illuminate what one might safely conjecture about the future of the universities in Africa.