Starting on Solid Ground
Regions across the so-called ‘Global South’ are rich in resources, such as oil, minerals, cobalt, gold and fertile agricultural land, that are scarce elsewhere, making them highly attractive to the ‘rest of the world’. Over time, the geographic allocation of these resources evolved into an intense global demand which was soon satisfied by systems of economic exploitation, entrenching structural inequalities long before contemporary multi/transnational corporations emerged. Quijano sharpens this insight in the context of the Americas by emphasizing that in ‘the historical process of the constitution of America, all forms of control and exploitation of labor and production, as well as the control of appropriation and distribution of products, revolved around the capital-salary relation and the world market. These forms of labor control included slavery, serfdom, petty-commodity production, reciprocity, and wages’. A new ‘model of power’ emerged and together with race ‘structurally linked and mutually reinforcing’ the foundation for coloniality was laid. The colonial legacy of exploitation and structural inequality persists today: large infrastructure projects in Africa, such as the East African Crude Oil Pipeline (EACOP) and the Lesotho Highlands Water Project (LHWP), reveal pronounced governance and financial structures that entrench asymmetrical power relations and with that reproduce colonial patterns of control over decision‑making, benefits, and risks between inter- and national actors as well as local communities affected by these projects. The communities often experience human rights violations (chapter 9), including the lack of consultation, loss of livelihoods, forced displacement, destruction of sacred sites and other forms of violations. In broader terms, such projects regularly ‘reinforce unjust, neo-colonial power relations’, which pose a severe threat to the (African) nation state’s economic development and prompt questions about the accountability of multinational corporations (chapter 9) in instances of human rights violations and environmental harm. Furthermore, as these patterns evolve into recurrent conflicts between business activities and the protection of human rights, they also raise pressing concerns – central to this contribution – about the adequacy of the existing human rights frameworks and in the African context their adaptation to regional specificities, particularly in responding to the (ongoing) colonial explorative experiences.
Turning to the African Charter and its Regional Contextualisation
The African business and human rights (BHR) architecture, as such only identified relatively recently, is prominently anchored in articles 21, 22 and 24 of the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights (African Charter), which serve as binding regional standards to the state parties. They have been reinforced and refined by various additional normative and institutional instruments, one of them being the Resolution on Business and Human Rights in Africa – ACHPR/Res.550 (LXXIV) 2023. The African Charter, while largely sharing the characteristics of standard international human rights treaties (and the accompanying epistemological critiques), is at the same time widely recognised for its specific regional contextualisation. In line with scholars, such as Viljoen, I argue that this is rooted in African historical, cultural and philosophical traditions, without fragmenting or relativising the universality of human rights. This distinctive grounding sets it apart from other international human rights frameworks, although the extent of this distinctiveness might be open to discussion. As scholars such as Amin have noted, the Preamble of the African Charter ‘declares states’ consideration of the virtues of African historical tradition and values as sources and reflection of the African human rights concept’. I argue that the mainly normative manifestations of this contextualisation should not have to be defended apologetically but rather embraced as refinements (and improvements) of the standard international frameworks.
This approach to regional contextualisation also meaningfully shapes the African Charter’s approach to the codification of BHR norms: Firstly, article 21 operates as a direct response to the historical legacies of colonial exploitation by affirming that the ‘people shall freely dispose of their wealth and natural resources’. In order to ensure the realisation of this right, the article imposes obligations on states to prevent exploitative or inequitable business practices, particularly by foreign corporations, and underpins demands for fair contracts and equitable resource governance. Further, the provision requires states to ‘individually and collectively exercise the right to free disposal of their wealth and natural resources with a view to strengthening African unity and solidarity’. Secondly, Article 22 focuses on the right of peoples’ to their ‘economic, social and cultural development with due regard to their freedom and identity and in the equal enjoyment of the common heritage of mankind’. The provision thereby emphasizes principles such as equity, non-discrimination, transparency, accountability and effective participation as necessary for the substantive fulfilment of these rights. Extending beyond individual entitlements, the article also imposes on states an obligation, again whether exercised ‘individually or collectively’, to ensure the effective enjoyment of the right to development. Thirdly, article 24 guarantees that ‘all peoples shall have the right to a general satisfactory environment favourable to their development’. This right has direct relevance for BHR questions, as large-scale economic and infrastructure projects, such as mining, oil pipelines, or hydropower developments, can have profound environmental impacts. The provision obliges states to ensure that such projects do not degrade the environment or undermine community well-being, requiring transparency, accountability and meaningful participation of affected populations.
Looking across all three provisions, a clear emphasis emerges on: (a) the notion of ‘peoples’, which is prominent across the whole African Charter, and as Zundel and Debele argue ‘closely connected to the objectives of Negritude, which is cultivating the dignity of black people through reclaiming African cultural traditions and civilisations as an anti-colonial project as propounded by Leopold Sedar Senghor and his contemporaries’; (b) the state parties’ obligations to be exercised ‘individually or collectively’ to strengthen African unity and solidarity, arguably grounded in a pan-African critique of colonial-era borders and the recognition that the African nation state, both at the time of independence and today, does not necessarily correspond to the collective identities and belonging of peoples; (c) a general delineation from colonial structures, including economic exploitation, grounded in the historical experiences of the continent coupled with a reaffirmation of cultural and philosophical roots, one of the most prominent examples being a communal focus that (seems to) stand in contrast to individualistic (‘Western’) notions of societal structures and understandings of community. In essence, the foundational provisions of the African BHR infrastructure demonstrate the influence of Pan-African thinkers, who emphasized continental solidarity, the pursuit of independence, and the empowerment of African peoples.
Revisiting the Concept of Ujamaa
One of these Pan-African thinkers is Julius Nyerere, whose concept of Ujamaa I want to revisit here as an exemplary African philosophy to further (re)think how the normative foundations of the African BHR framework can (and are actually intended to) inform human rights violations linked to business activities. In this regard, I examine Ujamaa as an illustrative, though non-exhaustive, example, which has influenced and helped shape articles 21 and 22 of the African Charter.
The following description of Ujamaa has been previously developed in the context of queer communities and the African Charter in my doctoral thesis. It will also appear in the associated monograph, I Zundel Claiming SOGIESC rights through the African human rights system (forthcoming) as well as in Zundel and Debele: Julius Nyerere, the first President of the Tanzanian Republic and a Pan-Africanist, coined Ujamaa, an African socialist philosophy. Nyerere defines Ujamaa in various ways: as an attitude of the mind, a sense of familyhood, care for the well-being of others, shared responsibilities and communal duty. It forms the basis of African socialism, which aims to reduce the dominance of capitalism by ‘organising society whose possibility is sought outside of class war’. Nyerere draws upon the egalitarian values and structures inherent in ‘traditional African societies’, arguing that ‘the true socialist may not exploit his fellows’. He reminds his compatriots that ‘individuals or the families within a tribe were “rich” or “poor” according to whether the whole tribe was rich or poor’.
For Nyerere, a crucial element of this familyhood and societal organisation is to ‘care for each other’s welfare’ as a moral and ethical responsibility shared by all. Integral to his advocacy within Ujamaa is the belief in the humanity of all, which underscores the notion that everyone deserves, and society is obligated to realise the well-being of others. He highlights the conception of life as a practice of care that members of a community owe each other: ‘We were individuals within a community. We took care of the community, and the community took care of us. We neither needed nor wished to exploit our fellow men’.
Through this philosophy, Nyerere teaches that well-being and care for others are essential for the whole community, and that hierarchy, exploitation and individual accumulation of wealth undermine this collective good. The realisation of such an understanding lies in the responsibility of the community, society and ultimately the state. In this very sense, article 21(V) of the African Charter (alongside the other articles mentioned above) obliges states ‘to eliminate all forms of foreign economic exploitation, particularly that practiced by international monopolies, so as to enable their peoples to fully benefit from the advantages derived from their national resources.’By grounding state obligation in the collective well-being of the population, the African Charter echoes Ujamaa’s principle that economic activity and resource distribution must serve the community rather than individual or (international) corporate interests.
This implies that states are legally obliged to ensure that business operations do not exploit communities but instead contribute to the shared welfare of all members of society. While the interpretive move from Ujamaa’s philosophical understandings in communities to concrete state obligations is one I have previously developed in the context of the human rights of queer communities (see above), it is equally significant here, as the African Charter has explicitly embedded these communal responsibilities in the BHR context, thereby clearly responding to (and rejecting) the colonial structures of accumulation historically imposed on, and practised at the expense of, African peoples.
Concluding Remarks
Despite these regionally contextualised legal standards, which are deeply embedded in Africa’s historical, cultural and philosophical contexts, a significant disconnect, as exemplified by EACOP and the LHWP, and well-known from around the world, persists between the (often international) promotion and expansion of business activities and the local protection of human rights around the business activities today. This raises the question of how to realise the shared welfare envisioned in the African Charter for the people it is meant to serve. Amin makes a similar observation and argues that ‘engaging African philosophy [such as Ujamaa] in the interpretative process [of the African Charter] will guarantee everyone’s enjoyment of socio-economic rights to Africa’s people as understood in the African context’ but that ‘the supervisory organs of the African Charter have not effectively applied this significant interpretative tool in their socio-economic rights jurisprudence’. This analysis invites us to critically examine the institutional and procedural mechanisms for translating these normative commitments into practice further, to strengthen accountability, and to explore innovative strategies for ensuring that business development aligns with the human rights and socio-economic well-being of African communities. It is important that such efforts must be undertaken with full awareness of, and grounded in, the philosophical origins that underpin the normative anchoring of the African BHR architecture.
