Nuclear weapons— proliferating nonsense (2)

THE amazing thing though, is that Black African policy makers and political leaders do not perceive the danger of being unarmed on a planet where predation and competition for resources govern relations between all living organisms—without exception.

     They have no strategic awareness. Black leaders and policy makers behave as if the world beyond their borders is ruled by members of their nuclear family—as if the seats of industrial and military power are occupied by their favorite aunts and uncles!

     “Humanity is one big happy family,” they apparently believe. “Why should we learn to solve our own problems? When our “relations” are out there? We can just sign an MOU (memorandum of understanding). No need to manufacture weapons. When trouble comes, we’ll buy guns and bombs”.

     The logic of this facile “best case scenario,” is apparently what informed the signing of the Pelindaba and Nuclear Non Proliferation Treaties. “They were patriotic Nigerians” Boroffice allows, “with the best of intentions. But they simply pulled up lame analytically”.

     The Senator has an inbred sense of humility. Though a newcomer to politics, he has, within a very short time, also cultivated considerable acumen and tact—all of which kicked in at this point, inhibiting any urge he may have had to elaborate.

     He didn’t need to. When all the elements are assembled… When lines are drawn to connect all the dots… a picture crystallizes, that portrays Nigeria’s predicament with greater clarity than Boroffice ever could: Black Africa is the most highly coveted piece of real state on Earth. And it is undefended!

    Two experiences, from my university days in the U.S.A. come to mind. I was listening to a lecture on radio, in which a Navy Commodore was addressing the prestigious and highly influential Commonwealth Club.

     A member of the audience asked the speaker, if the U.S. Military were going to be involved in Africa. His answer was terse and to the point. “There are lots of things in Africa we like,” he advised, dryly. And that, for the most part, was that. The audience understood.

     Africa contains more valuable minerals than any other continent. Also, sub-Saharan Africa is critically under-populated, with lots of living space and some of the world’s best farmland. Overpopulated China (and India) is filling the vacuum, thanks to the very foolish immigration policies of gullible African states.

     Nigeria, on its part, is a potentially powerful state, situated in a region bearing lots of strategic minerals and along a very busy shipping lane—a region where the U.S.A and France, in particular, have vital interests that would be seriously threatened if a large industrialized state were to emerged.

     I’ve written about the second incident before. It occurred during my first term at Citrus College, a small two-year institution in Glendora, California (a wealthy white fruit-growing community, near Los Angeles).

     This was in the mid-1960s, when only a handful of Blacks, from either side of the Atlantic, attended Citrus. I had trouble finding my “International Relations” class, and arrived late. I could hear uproarious laughter, as I approached the room.

     On the chalk board inside, were two drawings. One was a figure with jagged, widely-spaced teeth, bulging eyes and huge lips. The white lecturer had scribbled “Juju” across its chest and “Africa” above. Facing the Juju was a rocket, with its nosecone labeled “nuclear warhead”. The caption said “The White Man”.

     The ‘60s was a period of great racial and political ferment, both in Africa and the U.S.A. The lecturer was satirizing Blacks as “weak,” with nothing to back up their anger. We were pitting Juju and raw emotion, he mocked, against the white man’s nuclear weapons and advanced military technology.    

     I got my only failing grade (“F”) in International Relations—because I punished the lecturer for the remainder of the course. Any time he mentioned “Africa,” I pounced! Still, his point was not lost. From the time I walked into that classroom, I became an avid exponent of nuclear arms.         

     Africa is, alas, a “nuclear free zone”: Partly because none who are now policy makers were in that classroom with me or in one like it, elsewhere. They did not see the chalkboard drawings or the contemptuous scowl on the white man’s face or hear the derisive laughter of the students, as he spoke.

     To be continued.