A Nigerian oil company gave away free copies of Duncan Clarke’s book Crude Continent at a conference in Cape Town earlier this month. The conference, organised by Clarke’s company — Global Pacific & Partners — was a big industry schmooze fest for anybody interested in Africa’s oil industry.
Crude Continent is part sales pitch, part history book. It’s a combination of personal perceptions of Africa and dry facts about the oil industry, written by a man who could be referred to as the archival memory of Africa’s oil business.
But it is definitely not for everybody. Working one’s way through its 600 pages requires an open mind and the necessity to abandon political correctness. Clarke, who grew up in Zimbabwe, does not pull any punches as he looks at the role oil could play, does play and is perceived to play in Africa.
Referring to the current oil rush as a new “scramble for Africa”, Clarke reviews every country on the continent in his quest to convince the reader that there’s potential to share in the oil and gas bonanza. He argues that Africa’s governance troubles have always existed and will continue to do so, whether or not oil is in the equation. Clarke argues that a big part of the continent’s problem is what he calls “the passive acceptance of authority”.
To some extent, Crude Continent is two books in one. The middle section is a rather dry read — statistics on industry projects, partnerships and deals written in a sort of insider style familiar to readers of Africa Confidential. This part provides probably the most comprehensive snapshot of the oil business in Africa.
The beginning and end sections of Crude Continent are different beasts. They are also the parts I found most interesting, as Clarke wears the historian’s cap to trace Africa’s development, using oil as the thread. He sees oil as the great moderniser, lifting the continent out from what he repeatedly refers to as Africa’s ongoing “medieval” phase.
It’s a phrase that’s likely to jar, but he goes to great lengths to justify it. Clarke accuses African leaders of hiding overwhelming poverty behind statistics of rapid economic growth. Although the growth statistics are correct, he uses his own to argue that most Africans continue to live in miserable conditions, ignored by the very same leaders.
South African content is loosely scattered through most chapters because of the country’s large role in the energy business. Clarke looks at South Africa as a consumer, as an innovator — especially through Sasol — and as a player elsewhere on the continent.
Much of the book is devoted to Zimbabwe — a country with no known oil reserves. He spills some of the worst-kept secrets in the business, notably the alleged oil-for-land-deal negotiated between Libya’s Colonel Muammar Gaddaffi and Zimbabwe’s Robert Mugabe and Mugabe’s alleged extradition of mercenary Simon Mann to Equatorial Guinea in exchange for oil.
Although government press officers in Harare, Tripoli and Malabo are unlikely to confirm such allegations, Clarke views these alleged barter deals as one of the few means Mugabe has at his disposal to keep his country lubricated despite severe shortages of foreign currency.
Africa watchers will find the chapter on the Horn of Africa particularly interesting.
Crude Continent is a book of harsh realities, which will almost certainly spark lively debate around any dinner table.