Mapping the Digital Divide in Africa: A Mediated Analysis 9789048538225

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Mapping the Digital Divide in Africa

Mapping the Digital Divide in Africa A Mediated Analysis

Edited by Bruce Mutsvairo and Massimo Ragnedda

Amsterdam University Press

Cover illustration: Local market on Zanzibar Island © iSTock Cover design: Coördesign, Leiden Lay-out: Crius Group, Hulshout isbn 978 94 6298 685 5 e-isbn 978 90 4853 822 5 doi 10.5117/9789462986855 nur 670 © B. Mutsvairo, M. Ragnedda / Amsterdam University Press B.V., Amsterdam 2019 All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the written permission of both the copyright owner and the author of the book. Every effort has been made to obtain permission to use all copyrighted illustrations reproduced in this book. Nonetheless, whosoever believes to have rights to this material is advised to contact the publisher.



Table of Contents

List of Figures and Tables 6 Acknowledgements 9

Section I  Foundations and Theory 1. Comprehending the Digital Disparities in Africa

13

2. Conceptualising the digital divide

27

3. From Global to Local, Metropolitan to Village

45

4. Technology and the Democratic Space in Africa

65

Bruce Mutsvairo and Massimo Ragnedda

Massimo Ragnedda

A Case for a Definitional and Context-Oriented Approach to Examining the ‘Digital Divide’ Tenford Chitanana

A Re-Examination of the Notion of ‘Digital Divide’ Muhammed Musa

Section II  Social Inclusion and Digital Exclusion 5. The Partially Digital

Internet and South African Youth Toks Oyedemi

6. Online Football Fandomas a Microcosm of the Digital Participation Divide in Zimbabwe Lyton Ncube

91

113

7. The Discourse of Digital Inclusion of Women in Rwanda’s Media 131 A Thematic Analysis of Imvaho Nshya and The New Times Newspapers. Margaret Jjuuko and Joseph Njuguna

Section III  Cultural, Social, and Economic Paradigms 8. The Digital Divide and Film

153

9. Digital Divide or Information Divide

173

10. Exploring How Mobile Phones Mediate Bonding, Bridging and Linking Social Capital in a South African Rural Area

195

11. Bridging the Digital Gap in Sub-Saharan Africa

215

12. Kenya’s ‘Mobile Agriculture’ Discourse

257

Beschara Karam

Interrogating Telecommunication Penetration Measurements in Communal African Societies Chika Anyanwu

Mbalenhle Buthelezi and Lorenzo Dalvit

A Critical Analysis of Illiteracy and Language Divide Steven Sam

Unpacking Notions of Technology, Modernisation, and Development Sara Brouwer

Index 277

List of Figures and Tables Figures Figure 2.1 Figure 9.1 Figure 11.1 Figure 11.2

The three levels of digital divide 35 Communal Social Structure 181 Roger’s innovation-adoption process 221 The interface of Alimamy’s mobile phone showing how he saved and retrieved contacts 232 Figure 11.3 Popular dumbed mobile phones used by the participants 237

Section III  Cultural, Social, and Economic Paradigms 8. The Digital Divide and Film

153

9. Digital Divide or Information Divide

173

10. Exploring How Mobile Phones Mediate Bonding, Bridging and Linking Social Capital in a South African Rural Area

195

11. Bridging the Digital Gap in Sub-Saharan Africa

215

12. Kenya’s ‘Mobile Agriculture’ Discourse

257

Beschara Karam

Interrogating Telecommunication Penetration Measurements in Communal African Societies Chika Anyanwu

Mbalenhle Buthelezi and Lorenzo Dalvit

A Critical Analysis of Illiteracy and Language Divide Steven Sam

Unpacking Notions of Technology, Modernisation, and Development Sara Brouwer

Index 277

List of Figures and Tables Figures Figure 2.1 Figure 9.1 Figure 11.1 Figure 11.2

The three levels of digital divide 35 Communal Social Structure 181 Roger’s innovation-adoption process 221 The interface of Alimamy’s mobile phone showing how he saved and retrieved contacts 232 Figure 11.3 Popular dumbed mobile phones used by the participants 237

Tables Table 4.1 Table 4.2 Table 4.3 Table 4.4 Table 7.1

Internet Users Statistics for Africa 72 Key indicators 76 Social Media Penetration Rankings 76 Mobile Social Media Penetration 77 Selected Sample 138

Acknowledgements We are grateful to the following academics, who made an enormous contribution with their insightful chapter reviews. Prof. Anthea Garman, Rhodes University, South Africa Dr. Tendai Chari, University of Venda, South Africa Prof. Nhamo Mhiripiri, Midlands State University, Zimbabwe Dr. Iginio Gagliardone, University of Witwatersrand, South Africa Dr. Last Moyo, Midlands State University, Zimbabwe Dr. Vanessa Malila, Rhodes University, South Africa Prof. George Angelopulo, University of South Africa Dr. Ian Malcolm Rijsdijk, University of Cape Town, South Africa Prof. Michael Prieler, Hallym University, South Korea Dr. Kelvin Chikonzo, University of Zimbabwe, Zimbabwe Dr. Muhammad Jameel Yusha’u, Independent Researcher

1.

Comprehending the Digital Disparities in Africa Bruce Mutsvairo and Massimo Ragnedda

Abstract The digital divide has a significant impact on the ways in which information across Africa is developed, shared, and perceived. This opening chapter seeks to analyse the problems and opportunities associated with the ubiquitous digital revolution, providing a cross-disciplinary examination of digital disparities inhibiting social, political, and economic progress across Africa. It also attempts to conceptualise the digital divide in an African setting. It will introduce some of the main concepts associated with the digital divide and analyse them from an African perspective. The chapter also provides specific examples of how various countries in Africa are dealing with problems associated with the digital exclusion of their citizens. This contribution also provides the justification, aims, and objectives of the book before ending with chapter summaries of the collection. Keywords: Africa, Digital Divide, Challenges, Inequalities, Internet

Introduction This edited collection attempts to understand the dynamics of all things digital in Africa, especially the impact for those excluded from electronic participation. The book’s twelve chapters are not just case studies presenting the challenges of the digital divide across a wide range of African countries including South Africa, Zimbabwe, Rwanda, and Nigeria, but the book provides an alternative methodological and theoretical comprehension of the digital divide in Africa, south of the Sahara. We sought to provide an updated account of the problems posed by the ubiquitous divides among

Mutsvairo, B., M. Ragnedda (eds), Mapping the Digital Divide in Africa. A Mediated Analysis, Amsterdam University Press, 2019. doi: 10.5117/9789462986855_ch01

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Africans following previous attempts to highlight these predicaments by several scholars (see Mutula, 2005, 2005b; Okoli and Mbarika, 2003). This book’s aim is not to showcase the positive strides of the ICT revolution in Africa. If anything, it seeks to demonstrate, regardless of what others may call ‘positives’, the extent to which ICTs have exacerbated inequalities in Africa. Despite well-documented issues associated with the ICTs disparities (see Norris, 2001; van Dijk, 2005; Wilson, 2004; Ragnedda and Muschert, 2013), mobile telephony is growing extortionately in Africa and, better still, the rise of smartphones has given (some) citizens easy access to social networking sites. But the digital divide, a multidimensional phenomenon, which mostly reflects on one’s race, gender, socioeconomic status, or geographical location, stands in the way of progress, be it sociopolitical or economic. While most regions of the world have enjoyed a robust boom in Internet adoption, Africa has plenty of catching up to do according to the statistics provided in this collection. What possibilities are available to tame digital disparities in Africa? How are different societies in Africa handling and responding to digital problems? How do Africans understand the digital divide? What innovative methods are being used to provide citizens with access to critical information which could help improve their lives? Experiences from various locations in several sub-Saharan African countries have been carefully selected in this collection with the aim of providing an updated account on the digital divide and its impact in Africa. While all 54 African nations are said to have Internet connectivity (Jensen, 2002), a paltry ten percent of the continent’s 1.216 billion citizens has access to online activities even though 70 percent of sub-Saharan Africa’s inhabitants are mobile phone subscribers (GSMA, 2017). The number of households with Internet in Africa is pegged at sixteen percent, in comparison to the global average of 51 percent. With the majority of Internet sites available in English or other colonial languages, several Africans are left out of the digital participation, given online activity is limited to those who can read and understand the aforementioned languages. Taking its origins in the mid-1990s (Robinson, DiMaggio, and Hargittai, 2003; Ting, 2014), the digital divide ‒ the unavoidable void between those with access to information and communication technologies (ICTs) and those without ‒ remains a major problem in Africa. Mobile phones are too expensive for many and accessing mobile Internet is even worse. Therefore, unless affordable smartphones are made available to people with low socioeconomic status, the digital divide will persist. While acknowledging the potential of new media technologies to transform businesses and education in Africa and perhaps to influence

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entrepreneurship and economic growth, we are keen to emphasise that social and economic quagmires such as broadband costs, which continue to be beyond the reach of most African citizens, remain rampant. Consequently, as demonstrated by Lopez, Jose, and Rogy (2017), only 64 percent of people living in the Sahelian region of Africa ‒ which includes countries such as the Central African Republic, Chad, Mali, Niger, and Guinea ‒ have a working mobile phone, compared with 71% in the rest of sub-Saharan Africa, and 95% worldwide. Not even the east African nation of Tanzania, which is considered to be home to the cheapest rates of mobile Internet in Africa, with citizens paying 0.89 US dollars for one gig, offers affordable access to the net if one considers the fact that a third of the country’s population earn less than a dollar a day (UNICEF, 2009). Worse still, one gig is priced at 5.26 US dollars in South Africa and Nigeria, while Malawi, one of the world’s poorest nations, asks citizens to pay as much as 5.8 US dollars for one gig. These figures paint a gloomy outlook for Africa. In fact, as argued by Mutsvairo (2016) access to online technologies remains largely for the elite, which explains why few among us, while eager to embrace it, are less keen on celebrating the so-called digital explosion. But the digital divide is one way of understanding the simmering inequalities that exist, not just in African societies, but also in communities across the globe. For example, only 21 percent of South Africa’s 55.9 million citizens have access to the Internet. Data access in the country is more expensive than in Australia, which perhaps explains why, in spite of the overwhelming 3G coverage in most of its urban centres, access to the Internet is still limited. South Africa, along with Botswana and Namibia, remains one of the most unequal societies in the world, according to the World Bank (2017), with factors such as one’s gender and ethnicity or level of education attained explaining one’s social status. Income inequality, according to Orthofer (2016), is one way of explaining South Africa’s social disparities. Orthofer (2016) notes: ‘Ten percent of the South African population earn around 55%–60% of all income, compared to only 20-35% in the advanced economies.’ If you are living in a society that is distinctly unequal, then the presence or potential of the digital divide should be no surprise to anyone. African countries have been warned that if they do not ‘surf the great wave of the information revolution, they will be crushed by it’ (Nulens et al., 2001, 318). Warnings such as this are put to the test in this volume, which collects diverse digital experiences within Africa, contextualising the challenges they face, and how they are dealing with those problems.

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Background Predications in the 90s suggested the presence of online technologies would ensure information would be available any place at any time (Knoke, 1996). While in some parts of the world, some may consider the prediction somewhat accurate, that cannot be the same in sub-Saharan Africa, where access to digital information is bluntly constrained. This situation compels us to conclude that the digital divide is still very much present across the continent. The digital divide, which targets certain segments of the population, predominantly in the case of Africa, low-income and rural and sometimes even urban communities, is not only the gap between those with and without access to new forms of information technology, but also the inequalities in using ICTs (Van Dijk, 2006). The digital divide is, indeed, also associated with different skills, motivations, confidence, and support in accessing and using ICTs. Separating the ‘digital’ divide from the ‘knowledge’ or ‘information’ divide (see Mwin and Kritzinger, 2016) is becoming majorly impossible in Africa because of the dual social-economic impact potentially attributable to one’s failure or reluctance, willingly or not, to gain online connectivity. It must be noted, however, that gaining online connections does not provide people with plenty of information. While access to information and knowledge are critical prerequisites for human freedom and development (Benkler, 2003), we cannot expect every ‘connected’ citizen to be empowered. In other words, not everyone who has access to digital connectivity is using it for the purposes of acquiring knowledge. Digital inequalities arise in relation to the use of the ICTs, not only to the access to it. Possessing ICTs and accessing the Internet is a prerequisite to bridge the digital divide, but it is not enough to close digital inequalities, since they depend on different Internet usage. Besides not all initiatives are a success. Many African universities, for example, have established online-based distance curriculums highlighting some of the benefits of the ICT revolution. However, several problems ‒ from the non-availability of digitalised books for students and staff to sporadic Internet lapses (see Aluochu, 2006; Echezona and Ugwuanyi, 2010) ‒ are commonplace, leaving many questioning the real benef its of the ICT revolution. Back in the 1960s, Merton (1968) developed the ‘Matthew Effect’, which acknowledged the benefits of digital accessibility. The advent of ICTs has positively been seen by many authors (Negroponte, 1995), underestimating the social and cultural consequences of its spread. Indeed, not everybody

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can access and use it properly, aggravating inequalities already existing in societies, both at local and international levels (Ragnedda, 2017). A widening gap has emerged, affecting mostly those without access to digital resources. It therefore is nearly impossible, especially in the case of sub-Saharan Africa, to separate ‘economic divide’ from ‘the sociocultural divide’ because there is very little benefit for those excluded from digital participation. Access to ICTs, argues Flor (2001), facilitates economic growth and remains a permanent ingredient towards universal poverty alleviation. There is need to rethink developmental policies if the direction of the global information age is to be transformed, argue Castells and Himanen (2014). While technological innovation has the power to influence the economic direction of a country positively, very few studies have proven the correlation between digital innovative prowess and improved social welfare (Mansell, 2017). Technological innovation that fails to improve one’s social status appears meaningless because it keeps those from low social-economic communities completely excluded from digital involvement. Most of the people in this category do not have the technological know-how to be able to make any meaningful contributions in digital environments, which normally use languages unfamiliar to them. At the government level, African countries may find it too costly to participate in technological innovative projects, which require plenty of time to implement, as shown by Bilbao-Osorio (2013)’s research. Advocates for increased digital participation of African nations normally fail to understand how complex Africa is. Not every African government considers access to digital information a right (La Rue, 2011). Policy-makers keen to see much of the continent digitally connected do not realise or are not willing to accept that Africa is not a country. While governments in the West are likely to come up with an African policy, very few acknowledge the complexities involved in implementing such a policy because, for example, each and every African country maintains sovereignty to its laws, making policy and regulatory engagements a highly complex affair. Botswana, for example, could be willing to accept technological interventions it sees as beneficial to its citizens, while mildly repressive Uganda could decide against that. The digital exclusion of many Africans can therefore only be understood by those willing to acknowledge and historicise ICTs interventions in Africa within the context of the continent’s diverse historical, political, and cultural experiences.

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Digital Complexities While many people are concerned with ensuring that the digital gap in Africa is either minimised or eliminated, it is important to note that the main issue at stake is not just limited to accessibility. Indeed, poorer communities in many parts of the continent have limited access to digital technologies due to, as noted, high costs involved or an impoverished infrastructure. But the ´problems´ that these communities face are larger than digital access or participation. In fact, they could well be happier living without access to online technologies, which means the so-called digital barriers are an invention of our own. Do these communities see the value of digital participation? If not, then it is rather a waste of time to try to engage them. Some communities are, if anything, fighting against perceived integration into the so-called modern and civilised world. The government of Botswana, for example, has been haunting the local Bushmen off their ancestral land, taking their right to choose where and how they live, arguing ‘services’ could not be provided in the ´remote´ areas which hosts these indigenous tribespeople. Thus, improving people’s standards, as proven by Marcus, Weinelt, and Goutrobe (2015)’s study in Brazil, does not always guarantee that they will see the need for digital participation. In fact, Thomas (1988) affirms that the availability of existing technological and infrastructural factors is a key ingredient of digital development. The African digital sphere is home to several divides, which can be explained by one’s age, residence (rural-urban), or gender, for example. With some areas historically developed compared with others, the digital divide in Africa can also be seen through a provincial or regional lens. Gender gaps, on the other hand, are continuing to rise across the continent with 28 percent of men accessing the Internet in 2016 compared to just 22 percent female participants. Over 80 percent of Ethiopia’s Internet users are males. Another way of looking at digital divide in Africa remains the politically repressive environments that are still prevalent in some parts of the continent. It is, for instance, very normal for governments to shut down the cyberspace in Africa. In 2017, Togo disrupted Internet communication to suppress anti-government street protests, while Cameroon launched a 93-day Internet blackout in its English-speaking regions, also to stifle protests. Similar shutdowns were reported in the Democratic Republic of Congo and Zimbabwe in 2018 and 2019. While it is still unclear how these measures could have exacerbated the existing digital divide in these countries, research in other parts of the world, including China, has shown that censorship or continued surveillance paralyses potential interest in

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political and social activism (Yang, 2003; Zhou, 2006). The modernisation theory also argues that, in an openly democratic society, competitiveness in key parts of the economy is central to developing information technology (Robinson and Crenshaw, 2002). Thus, a government that strictly controls the Internet could be a hindrance to potential digital participation by citizens, who may lose interest or could guard against potential reprisals. Notably, some studies have argued effective Internet control is impossible to implement (see Hachigian, 2001; Boas, 2004).

Decolonising the Digital The digital divide perpetuates colonial legacies. Before the colonial arrival in the 1870s, Africans used different forms of communication, chief among them rock paintings and talking drums. Upon their arrival, Europeans introduced new, modern communication systems such as the telegraph and telephone. It must be noted, however, that these innovations, just like the current ICT penetration in Africa, were never fully meant to benefit Africans. Instead, their role was to facilitate the colonisation of Africa. They made it easy for colonial demagogues to communicate with one another. For example, it would be absurd to think that, when mining magnate Cecil John Rhodes constructed the railway line linking South Africa and present-day Zimbabwe and Zambia, he did it for the greater good of African citizens living in these countries. As a fervent believer in British imperialism, Rhodes used the new railway line to push for his economic and supremacist agenda. New technological innovations in Africa should also be seen in this light. Just like the colonial legacy controlled the school and university curriculums in Africa, the perceived competence and benefits of ICTs are likely overstated to undermine Afrocentric forms of communication. New scholarly discussions focusing on the decolonial, postcolonial, or anti-colonial approaches to digital cultures are emerging. Indeed, historical and current processes of colonisation, decolonisation, neocolonialism, and recolonisation are present in digital realms and only a multifaceted research intervention will be able to disentangle the ways in which they have and continue to isolate Africa from digital participation. Empirical research is needed to investigate how digital decolonisation can serve as a critical prism that can help us understand the broader implications of transformations ushered in by digital and technological innovations. Decolonisation, in general terms, refers to the dismantlement of historical injustices associated with colonialism. Scholars who have delved into the

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decolonial debacle are aplenty (see, for example, Smith, 1999; Shohat and Stam, 2000; Ndlovu-Gatsheni, 2013; Chasi and Rodny-Gumede, 2018). It is important to examine the ways through which modernisation, which may come in all shapes and sizes, enjoying the blitz of one-sided marketing escapades, actually propagates structural inequalities among Africans. This is important because modernisation should not be forced on people. The belief that the digital sphere is the only place where knowledge should be conceived and comprehended is fatally flawed too. Knowledge can be gained through experience, for example. Africans gained and shared knowledge through rock paintings, postulates Davis (1984), crucially challenging ideas that only Western civilisation can be considered the acceptable source of knowledge. Several other works have questioned the belief that Western knowledge can be applied in all settings of the world, especially Africa or indigenous settings (see Zavala, 2013; Rabaka, 2010; Obeng-Quaidoo, 1985). If rock art provides information or, better still, conceptual knowledge as to how a group of indigenous people feel or communicate, then surely that should not be seen to be inferior because of the perceived lack of digital connotations.

Taming the Divide There is a need to arrest the digital gaps in Africa and several remedies and recommendations have indeed been suggested. Most of these, however, are not in tandem with the realities on the ground. One common recommendation has always been the need to provide adequate infrastructure to enable ICTs development. While this idea is noble, it is important to note that very few digital interventions have involved the local communities to find out what they want. There is danger in suggesting what we feel people want as opposed to what they actually want. It is important to encourage more empirical studies in this area, especially those that are participatory in nature because failure to involve these communities could lead to the implementation of policies that further digitally isolate them. The key to taming the digital divide therefore lies in the ability to improve one’s social and economic status, for poor communities in Africa will not use the little money they have in their pockets on computers and Internet. Once they have jobs or more money to spend, their priorities will also be significantly altered. Education is central to eradicating all forms of digital divides in Africa. As noted, Africa houses diverse cultural and religious beliefs. In some parts of the continent, people are adamant that the Internet is foreign to their cultures. Some consider it to be a platform encouraging what they see as

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anti-social vices including criminality and pornography. One therefore cannot expect everyone to adopt digital technologies given that they are sometimes viewed with suspicion. While many government departments in Africa have adopted ICTs, not all of them are on social media or use email communication. It is important for these people to first realise that using these technologies is in their interest, if that is the case; otherwise, no or few changes will be realised. If people have communicated for centuries using open, face-to-face communication, why then should they adopt new forms of communication, which they do not understand? Again, some skills such as using a computer are easily taught at schools. Including such skills in primary and secondary school curricula could enhance their digital participation. Again, it should not be forced on them, otherwise they simply will just focus on studying and learning what they want. There is also a need to ‘Africanise’ technology. For example, despite the collapse of Apartheid system in South Africa in 1994, the country’s education systems have not changed (Heleta, 2016). Many African countries have centred their curriculums on models introduced by the colonial master. But if, as Shizha (2013) argues, before the colonial arrivals, Africans were educated using knowledge obtained from indigenous cultural methods and practices, why are many Africans shying away from that identity? In fact, Higgs (2012) proposes that African educational systems should redesign their curricula to reflect the power of indigenous practices and attributes. Unfortunately, not everyone agrees with this approach. Efforts to redesign the colonial curriculum for primary and secondary education in Zimbabwe, for example, have been resisted, as the majority of the country’s citizen believe colonial education is superior. The ex-minister, who was in charge of pushing for curriculum reform became the most hated public official before he was replaced in 2017. Many parents in Zimbabwe choose for their children to sit for exams set in Cambridge, UK at the expense of those run by a local body. While the locally run exams are not without problems, they need popular support. This is, however, not the case, as the majority of the people seem to be stuck in colonial hangover.

Chapter Summaries The main theoretical contribution made by this book pertains largely to its holistic critique of the digital divide, which not only identifies but also attempts to historicise the problems associated with ICT revolution in Africa. Methodologically, several diverse approaches ranging from an inductive

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approach underpinned by a grounded theoretical framework (Corbin and Strauss, 2007) to a constructionist ontological stance (Bryman, 2012) are adopted in this volume. Ethnographic accounts as well as qualitative interviews are also used in this book, whose chapters are divided between theoretical and empirical foundations. This is significant because the digital divide is a huge problem across Africa. Thus, it needs to be analysed using various approaches to avoid one-sided conclusions and interpretations. As a way forward, the enabling liberative capacity of ICTs should be thwarted while any efforts to foil the extending digital demises among Africans should take note of the people’s needs and their technological abilities. International institutions such as the United Nations should adopt country-specific ICT programmes rather than drafting generalised ‘African policy’ documents, which fail to take into consideration the diverse technological disparities among African countries. African governments should also reject attempts to be seen as one country. More importantly, we do not think policies to address the digital divide should be crafted in Brussels or Washington. Instead, we strongly believe there should be a multifaceted involvement of Africans in policy formation. At the end of this opening chapter, Massimo Ragnedda provides a universal conceptualisation of the digital divide, also making particular references to African cases in Chapter 2. Tenford Chitanana turns to theory in Chapter 3 to examine existing digital differences between global conceptualisations of the digital divide and notable local experiences from urban and rural Zimbabwe seeking to make a theoretical contribution to studies in Afrocentric digital inequalities. In Chapter 4, Mohammed Musa concludes the ‘Foundations and Theory’ section by disputing the contribution of the digital divide to democratic movements in Africa, arguing that such notions reject the potential influence of human agency to popular grassroots movements while also thwarting the contributory role of communicative capitalism towards Afrocentric political activism. Next up, in Chapter 5, Toks Oyedemi opens the ‘Social Inclusion and Digital Exclusion’ section by analysing digital cultures in the South African context by assessing the impact of Internet connectivity for the nation’s youths. In Chapter 6, Lyton Ncube evaluates the connections between online divides and sport followers using football-mad Zimbabwe as a case study. In Chapter 7, Margaret Jjuuko and Joseph Njuguna use a thematic framing analysis of Imvaho Nshya and The New Times newspapers to explain a gender-based digital exclusion/inclusion of women in Rwandese media to conclude this section. Beschara Karam opens the ‘Cultural, Social, and Economic Paradigms’ section in Chapter 8 by investigating the link between the digital divide and the film industry

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in Africa, clarifying the impact of limited access to films and cinema. Chika Anyanwu explores the social and economic realities and digital disparities among rural and urban African communities in Chapter 9, arguing that, even though technological advancements are improving economies in Africa, our focus should not be on the perceived lack of access but rather how communities adopt and use these online technologies. In Chapter 10, Mbali Buthelezi and Lorenzo Dalvit seek to find answers to one question: how do mobile phones mediate bonding, bridging, and linking social capital in a South African rural area? In Chapter 11, Steven Sam critically evaluates the contribution of language literacies to the existing digital gaps in sub-Saharan Africa. The volume ends in Chapter 12 with Sara F. Brouwer’s analysis of digital disparities inherent in Kenya’s mobile agriculture.

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Orthofer A. (2016, October 7). ‘South Africa needs to f ix its dangerously wide wealth gap’. The Conversation. Retrieved 8 December 2017 from https://theconversation.com/south-africa-needs-to-fix-its-dangerously-wide-wealth-gap-66355 Rabaka, R. (2010). Against Epistemic Apartheid: W.E.B. Du Bois and the Disciplinary Decadence of Sociology. New York: Lexington Books. Ragnedda, M. and Muschert G.W. (2013). The Digital Divide: The internet and social inequality in international perspective. London: Routledge. Ragnedda, M. (2017). The third Digital Divide: a Weberian approach to digital inequalities. Oxford: Routledge. Robinson, J. P., DiMaggio, P., and Hargittai, E. (2003). ‘New Social Survey Perspectives on the Digital Divide’. IT & Society, 1(5), 1-22. Robinson, K.K. and Crenshaw, E.M. (2002). ‘Post-industrial transformations and cyberspace: A cross-national analysis of Internet development’. Social Science Research, 31(3), 334-363. Shohat, E. and Stam, R. (Eds.) (2000). Unthinking Eurocentricism: Causes, Manifestations, and Solutions. London: Routledge. Smith, L.T. (1999). Decolonizing Methodologies: Research and Indigenous Peoples. London and New York: Zed Books. Ting, C. (2016). ‘The role of awareness in Internet non-use: experiences from rural China’. Information Development, 32(3), 327-337. Thomas, F. (1988). ‘The Politics of growth: The German telephone system’. In M. Renate and T.P. Hughes (Eds.), The development of large technical systems (179-213). Boulder, CO: Westview Press. UNICEF (2009). Childhood Poverty in Tanzania: Deprivations and Disparities in Child Well-Being. Retrieved 7 December 2017 from https://www.unicef.org/ socialpolicy/files/Tanzania_FinalChildPovertyStudy.pdf van Dijk, J.A. (2005). The deepening divide. Inequality in the information society. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. van Dijk, J.A. (2006). ‘Digital divide research, achievements and shortcomings’. Poetics, 34(4-5), 221-235. Wilson III, E.J. (2004). The information revolution and developing countries. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Yang, G. (2003). ‘The Internet and civil society in China: A preliminary assessment’. Journal of Contemporary China, 12(36), 453-475. Zavala, M. (2013). ‘What do we mean by decolonizing research strategies? Lessons from decolonizing, indigenous research projects in New Zealand and Latin America’. Decolonization: Indigeneity, Education & Society, 2(1), 55-71. Zhou, Y. (2006). Historicizing online politics: Telegraphy, the Internet, and Political Participation in China. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press.

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About the authors Bruce Mutsvairo is an Associate Professor in Journalism Innovation at the University of Technology Sydney. He earned his PhD at Leiden University, The Netherlands. Massimo Ragnedda is a senior lecturer in Mass Communications at Northumbria University, UK. Prior to joining Northumbria University, he worked at the University of Sassari from 2006 to 2012. During this time, he worked as a lecturer and supervisor of research, published widely and delivered presentations in several countries across the world. He earned his PhD from the University of Sassari.

2.

Conceptualising the digital divide Massimo Ragnedda Abstract The aim of this chapter is to discuss the change of perspectives in understanding and attempting to bridge the digital divide, and to reconceptualise this concept by offering a nuanced theoretical approach to analyse the rise and persistence of digital inequalities. The chapter will focus on the development of the digital divide, explaining how it is not the simple access to the Internet itself (first level of digital divide) that determines digital inequalities, but rather the motivations, skills, and purpose of use (second level of digital divide) that influence online inequalities. The chapter goes beyond the binary approach of ‘have’ and ‘have not’, by introducing and discussing the third level of digital divide, seen as the social and cultural benefits deriving from accessing and using the Internet, stressing how social and digital inequalities are intertwined. The third level of digital divide focuses on the social consequences of Internet usage and it moves away the focus from the digital arena, by addressing it as a social issue. Keywords: Digital Divide, Inequalities, Gaps, ICTs, Africa, Online

Introduction The term ‘digital divide’ emerged in the 1990s to define inequalities in access to the Information Communication Technologies (ICTs), framing it as a matter of having or not having access to ICTs (Compaine, 2001). The first empirical researches have shown how some specific socio-demographic variables, such as employment status, income, education level, geographic location, ethnicity, age, gender, and family structure, influenced the access to the ICTs, creating a digital gap or divide among citizens (domestic digital divide) or countries (global digital divide). Such inequalities have widened

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during the years, despite the fact that the World Summit on the Information Society, held in Geneva (2003) and Tunis (2005) has stressed the idea that no one should be left out from the benefits offered by the information society. In some continents (such as Africa), the disparities in terms of access and use of ICTs is wider than in others (such as Europe). The importance of the Internet as a prerequisite for economic and social development, has been further stressed by the United Nations in 2015 when the Internet was included among its goals for resolving the most persistent social and economic challenges of our time (UN, 2015, 15). Indeed, in a digitally enabled society, part of the human activities depends on how we access, generate, and process information. It is then worth asking how the phenomenon of digital divide and digital inequalities has been approached and analyzed both by scholars and policy-makers and how such approaches have changed over the years. Hence, the aim of this chapter is to discuss the change of perspectives in analyzing and attempting to bridge the digital divide, and to reconceptualise this concept by offering a nuanced theoretical approach to analyse the rise and persistence of digital inequalities. In order to shed light on this issue, I shall draw on some of the most important researches that have been carried out on this topic in the last two decades, exploring the rise of the digital divide as a matter of public concern. The chapter will start by defining the digital divide, taking into account its multidimensionality, and stressing how the apparently simple matter of ‘accessibility’ is a sophisticated phenomenon. The chapter will underline the development of the digital divide by focusing on the shift from the first to the second level of digital divide, discussing how researchers have moved their focus from inequalities in access to inequalities in use, going beyond the black-and-white approach of ‘have’ and ‘have not’. The chapter will then introduce and discuss the third level of digital divide, seen as the social and cultural benefits deriving from accessing and using the Internet, stressing how social and digital inequalities are intertwined. Finally, conclusions will be drawn and some recommendations and further direction for future work will be also made.

The Origin and the Evolution of the Digital Divide Although the digital divide is a relatively new phenomenon, research on the digital divide has ‘created its own literature and [has] gained the reputation as a legitimate academic field’ (Wang, McLee, and Kuo, 2011, 323). However, not only is there not a clear and commonly accepted definition (Epstein et

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al., 2011; Stevenson, 2009), but it is impossible to identify with any certainty the person (scholar or policy-maker) who coined or used the term ‘digital divide’ for the first time. The term has been used in different ways with different meanings. In 1995, Moore used this term to distinguish attitudes of pessimism or euphoria in the use of technology, while in 1996, Gore used it to indicate the different chances for students to access and use personal computers at school. This concept started to be used in relation to the gap in accessing the ICTs by the US Department of Commerce’s National Telecommunications and Information Administration (NTIA), in a series of ‘Current Population Surveys’ in 1995, 1998, 1999, 2000, 2002, and 2004. The issue of digital divide has, therefore, gained importance as a policy issue. These reports mainly refer to the socioeconomic gap between communities with access to computers and the Internet and those without, tracing the most important intergroup differences related to the spread of access. These studies show that low-income people, adults, women, and racial minorities had the lowest rate of computer ownership and Internet access, thus creating a digital gap or divide across population. While these studies were focused on the USA, their insights may be applied everywhere in the world, from Europe to Africa. These studies, indeed, show how the most advantaged citizens are the first to enjoy the benefits offered by the advent of the Internet. In order to bridge the gap in accessing the ICTs, earlier researchers and policy-makers have adopted what we can define as the ‘telephone approach’, which mainly focuses on the cost and diffusion of technologies, thus reflecting the influence of traditional public policies on the universal spread of the telephone. In such a perspective, however, gaps and inequalities essentially referred to the difficulties encountered by certain social categories or entire countries or continents such as Africa to access and use technologies. The phenomenon of digital divide was reduced to a simple technological and economic issue, underestimating the social consequences associated with the rise of the digital divide (Compaine, 1988). In this vein, several researches and policy-makers thought that the initial differences in access to ICTs would gradually disappear as a result of socioeconomic processes: the levelling of access would be possible thanks to the reduction of costs and simplification of interfaces. In this vein, as recognised by the Affordability Report 2017 released by the Alliance for Affordable Internet (A4AI), some African governments are pushing for affordable access and wider Internet penetration for lower income groups. This approach, also known as standardisation, stresses the idea that citizens have different time of technology’s adoption and the current gap will be overcome gradually as the technology adapts itself to the market (Thierer, 2000). Lower price

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and much simpler interfaces will eradicate the problems surrounding the digital divide (Compaine, 1988, 2001). Framing the digital divide as a technological problem and as a matter of adoption, however, ignores other variables such as the overall sociocultural, educational, and political background. Describing the digital divide as the simple difference between those who have a personal computer and a connection to the Internet, and those who do not and who remain cut off from its possibilities, is what we can define as the first level of digital divide. This approach has characterised the early stage of the development of the digital divide (Hoffman and Novak, 1998; Katz and Aspden, 1997). Presenting the digital divide as a form of inequality in access to ICTs (Besser, 2004) and as a matter of absolute inequality in black-and-white terms, is problematic (DiMaggio et al., 2001; Selwyn, 2004) and fails to understand the multidimensional nature of the digital divide (Warschauer, 2002) and the necessity to include other factors and variables (Brandtzæg et al., 2011). In some geographical areas, such as Africa, however, the dichotomous division between those who access and those who are excluded from digital opportunities is more than evident (Mutsvairo and Ragnedda, 2017). Indeed, despite many African countries seeing the fastest growth rates in Internet penetration (We Are Social, 2018), thus moving towards the closure of the first level of digital divide, the number of citizens still locked out from the digital arena is massive. In 2018, according to Internet Users Statistic (IUS, 2018), in countries such as Eritrea (1.4%), Niger (4.3%), Congo Democratic Republic (6.1%), and Madagascar (7.2%), the first level of digital divide is still a huge issue. Indeed, in these countries, more than 9 out of 10 citizens do not have Internet access, and this widens the socioeconomic disparities between the socioeconomically privileged and the less privileged. However, access to the Internet alone can determine neither how much value users gain from the Internet, nor what users do online (Devaraj and Kohli, 2003; Zhu and Kraemer, 2005). This dichotomous approach, obsolete in advanced countries characterised by extensive use of the Internet (Tondeur et al., 2011), may be useful to describe the adoption and diffusion of ICTs in developing countries such as some African countries. In some advanced countries (European nations and the US, for instance), this dichotomous approach is useless in analysing the social, cultural, political, and economic inequalities at the base of the differences in accessing and using the Internet, and fails in understanding how the unequal access and usage of ICTs may exacerbate already existing social inequalities. Thus, what is missing in the earlier researches is not only a nuanced theoretical approach (Ragnedda and Muschert, 2017), but also any attempt to analyse digital inequalities and their social implications.

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Beyond the Dichotomous Approach: the Second Level of Digital Divide With the spread of the Internet, the theoretical panorama has expanded and the phenomenon of digital divide has been reformulated in different ways (Sparks, 2013; van Dijk, 2006). Scholars and researches went beyond the black-and-white divide between two dichotomous groups that can be clearly determined, by including other variables and aspects (Hargittai, 2000; Norris, 2001; DiMaggio et al., 2001; Castells, 2004; Rogers, 2003). The digital divide, as a complex and sophisticated phenomenon (Hsieh et al., 2008; Okazaki, 2006), cannot be analysed only from one point of view (access), reducing it merely to technological and economic factors. In this vein, researchers have moved from the first level of digital divide to a more sophisticated and multidimensional second level, mainly based on the disparities in computer and Internet usage (Attewell, 2001; Dewan and Riggins, 2005). This new level focuses not only on the material access to the Internet, but also on the different uses of it. In fact, while the gap in access to the Internet has progressively declined (reducing the first level of digital divide), the technological usage results in an increasing divide between users (Hilbert et al., 2010), since the benefits derived are not commonly experienced by everybody (Howard, Busch, and Sheets, 2010; Ono and Zavodny, 2008). This new path in analysing the digital divide focuses on the instrumental and creative skills and communication abilities (Correa, 2010; Hargittai and Walejko, 2008; van Dijk, 2006) that gives Internet users different experiences. The digital divide has thus started to be analysed in relation to the capacities and digital skills of citizens with different socioeconomic backgrounds (Hargittai, 2002; van Deursen and van Dijk, 2009), the quality of usage (Benkler, 2006), and the different ways in which ICTs are used (Hargittai and Hsieh, 2010). Researches have disaggregated several aspects of online access and uses (DiMaggio et al., 2004; Selwyn, 2004; van Dijk, 2005; Witte and Mannon, 2010), underlining that the digital divide is a multidimensional and multifaceted problem, and that a polarised vision cannot encompass the different gradation of e-inclusion and use of ICTs (van Dijk, 2005). In advanced countries, where the Internet penetration is really high, inequalities at the base of the social structures, such as education and gender, do not influence the access to ICTs. It may, however, influence the skills, motivation, and support needed in confidently using the Internet. In some developing countries, such as African countries, the gender digital divide is still an issue. According to the International Telecommunications Union (ITU, 2016), the gap in access to ICTs between gender was largest

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in Africa (23%) and smallest in the Americas (2%). This means that, not only is there a global digital divide, but also a global gender digital divide, since women in developing countries are more likely to be excluded from the digital realm, further reinforcing already existing social inequalities (Gender Gap Audit, 2016). In other words, several African women remain on the lower level of ICTs access and use, despite the promise of inclusion offered by the advent of the Internet. Going beyond the dichotomous division means, above all, to tie digital inequalities to social inequalities (DiMaggio et al., 2004; Sparks, 2013) and to analyse digital inequalities in terms of political participation, healthcare, education, and in relation to pre-existing social inequalities (Bimber, 2000; Cavanaugh, 2000; Fox, 2001; Guillén, and Suárez, 2001; Warschauer, 2004). Over the years, the digital divide, therefore, has become a social problem rather than a merely technological one (Ragnedda and Muschert, 2013). To appreciate the complexity of digital divide fully, scholars and policy-makers must understand its social consequences by looking at society’s inequalities. Although scholars are now taking into consideration the multidimensionality of the digital divide (van Dijk, 2005; DiMaggio et al., 2001; Lenhart and Horrigan, 2003; de Haan, 2003), policy-makers have often continued to look at it in terms of lack of access or infrastructure (although some things have changed over the years, specifically in more advanced societies). In other words, policy-makers have focused mainly on the first level of digital divide in the past, not acknowledging the different skills, abilities, and purpose of use of ICTs in an effective way. As already noted, the concept of the digital divide does not relate to a single type of ‘divide’, but instead is intertwined with a series of economic, cultural, political, personal, and social issues, and is linked to the growth of computer technology and the Internet. Capacities, motivations, skills, and support in accessing, using, and managing information and knowledge disseminated by such technology may generate significant cultural, economic, social, personal, and political advantages. The digital divide is, therefore, a multifaceted phenomenon, interwoven with existing processes of social differentiation, as the diffusion in Africa of such technologies shows. The diffusion and penetration of ICTs occurs according to the traditional models of technology spread. ICTs reaches more and more citizens that tend to embed them into their daily routine. However, this spread does not ‘necessarily’ reduce digital inequalities; rather, it suggests a reconfiguration of social stratification, that in some ways may accentuate existing inequalities. Indeed, users who find themselves in a position of relative social advantage tend to consolidate these privileges to the detriment of social categories

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slower to adopt and properly use new technology (Ragnedda and Muschert, 2016). This is in line with what Hsieh and Rai (2008) have shown in their research, when they underlined how socioeconomic strata have not only different access to ICTs, but that they also experience a completely different use of such technologies. Thus, while the divide in access to the digital realm might be at some point bridged, in the meantime, other divides in terms of motivation, skills, support, and capacity to gain advantages from the Internet will continue. It is, then, erroneous to expect that a relatively widespread and well-distributed use of ICTs among social strata will automatically translate to the progress of equal opportunities among citizens. In order to exploit the full potential of ICTs, it is necessary to have a solid purpose of use, to reach a good level of digital skills, and to have strong cultural, social, and political capital (Ragnedda and Ruiu, 2017). Users are constantly asked to update and improve their skills in order to feel comfortable in the network society (van Dijk and Hacker, 2003) and to become full citizens. Indeed, users, once past the first level of digital divide, may experience different level of digital inclusion. Evidently, as stated by Castells (2001, 232) access to the Internet is a prerequisite to overcome inequality in a network society, without which other factors will be irrelevant. Such a gap in access to ICTs is a clear obstacle to enjoying the benefits of Internet (Hassani, 2006). This obstacle prevents billion of people from enjoying digital opportunities. As already mentioned, there is a clear global digital divide between countries and even between continents, such as Africa and Europe. This is why, as we have seen, at the early stage of its development, access and ownership of ICTs was seen both by policy-makers and scholars as the most crucial factor (Correa, 2010; DiMaggio et al., 2004). This is why policy-makers (both locally and internationally) are investing in ICTs infrastructure in Africa, with the hope to close the gap in access to ICTs. The technology solutions for closing the first level of digital divide in Africa exist and can help bring the socioeconomic advantages offered by ICTs. However, the concept of ‘access’ also needs to be reconceptualised and cannot be analysed in dichotomous terms. It is then necessary to adopt a nuanced approach that acknowledges how access is a complicated and multifaceted issue. For instance, Kling (1998) outlines differences in social and technical access, while van Dijk (1999, 179) stresses four different kinds of access: material access, mental access, usage access, and skills access. A few years later, van Dijk (2005) analyzes access skills in relation both to the availability of material, cultural, social, and mental resources as well as to personal factors such as gender, intelligence, ability, ethnicity, age, health, and ability. Finally, Wilson (2006) further stresses the

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complexity of the variable ‘access’, underlining eight factors related to access to the Internet: physical, financial, cognitive, production, design, content, institutional, and political access. All these forms of access can create or reinforce divides in online experiences and, eventually, can affecting the tangible outcomes users get from the Internet. Hence, access, in all its facets, must then be seen as a complicated set of issues that produce and reinforce differences between social classes (Goldfarb and Prince, 2008; Hilbert, 2011). Different accesses and different abilities and skills in exploiting the benefits offered by the ICTs are strongly connected with social inequalities and, thus, are connected with the third level of digital divide.

The Third Level of Digital Divide Several researchers have underlined how digital skills and different uses of ICTs are key to generate digital inequalities in terms of different social, economic, cultural, or political advantages among users (van Deursen and van Dijk, 2009; DiMaggio and Bonikowski, 2008). The digital skills should not be reduced to simple skills such as surfing the web, but should also include the capacity to search for valuable information, manage social and professional contexts online, select mission-critical content, be aware of potentialities offered by ICTs, engage in self-promotion, and increase social and cultural capital. In a digital-enabled society, capacity, motivation, education, and the ‘quality’ of information and knowledge acquired online have consequences for life opportunities in the social realm. The different accesses and uses of the ICTs lead to entirely different roles of the Internet in individuals’ lives, strongly influencing inequality in the digital age. The pervasiveness of ICTs into every aspect of our lives made the issues related to inequalities in accessing (first level of digital divide) and the use of ICTs (second level) increasingly vital. Furthermore, the penetration of ICTs and its relation with pre-existing social inequalities have given rise to the so-called third level of digital divide (Ragnedda, 2017), seen as the capacity to reinvest in the social realm the valuable information, knowledge, and resources found online. The third level of digital divide is, therefore, the capacity to transform the digital benefits, resulting from a satisfactory use of ICTs, into social benefits that might improve the life chance of individuals. Individuals’ access to and digital skills in using the Internet do not automatically transform online experiences into other social and tangible outcomes. This is particularly true for those who suffer socioeconomic and cultural disadvantages. This is valid both at the micro level (disadvantaged

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Figure 2.1 The three levels of digital divide

individuals) and the macro level (developing countries). Indeed, without the ‘right’ social, political, cultural, and economic environment in which to grow and rely to amplify the benefits offered by the digital environment, most of the opportunities opened up by the Internet are not completely exploited. In this way, it is possible to argue that socioeconomic and cultural backgrounds affect the access to and the use of the Internet (first and second level), and this different online experience influences people’s life chances and the opportunities they have in the offline world (third level). To put it differently, information, resources, and knowledge acquired in the digital realm are influenced by social, economic, personal, and cultural factors at the base of social inequalities. In turn, the different use of Internet (second level of digital divide) generates knowledge and resources (cultural, social, personal, economic, and political) that might be reinvested and used in the social world, creating different rewards and tangible outcomes (third level of digital divide). These different personal, economic, social, political, and cultural rewards tend to reinforce and solidify inequalities that already exist

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in society. Thus, like a vicious circle, pre-existing forms of social inequalities influence the digital divide at all three levels, which in turn influence social inequalities upon which it relies. In this way, social inequalities are further exacerbated and reinforced by the advent of ICTs. For the sake of clarity, this does not mean we are livivng in a closed society where any forms of social mobility ‒ namely the ability for people to improve their life conditions ‒ are prevented. ICTs, and the Internet in particular, may offer concrete help in stimulating such mobility. At the micro level, for instance, individuals of low socioeconomic status, but with great motivation and high-level digital skills, can promote themselves up the social ladder by using the ICTs. At the macro level, wider access to technology increases innovation efficiency, and helps to boost economic growth, creating job opportunities and improving public services. In this direction, some areas, such as sub-Saharan African countries, are left further behind. Indeed, according to A. T. Kearney (which ranks the top outsourcing destinations worldwide), in 2017, only five sub-Saharan African countries were ranked in the top 50: Ghana, Mauritius, Kenya, Senegal, and South Africa (A.T. Kearny, 2017). These countries are less attractive outsourcing destinations and are widening the gaps with other countries, in terms of efficiency, innovation, and job creation opportunities. However, as several researches have shown, it is more likely that individuals with higher income, better education, and more prestigious positions in society tend to use the Internet to maintain or enhance their privileged positions. Van Deursen, van Dijk, and ten Klooster (2015), for instance, have demonstrated how the opportunities offered by the Internet are entirely exploited by individuals who belong to a higher socioeconomic class. This shows how, despite the Internet being an open and democratic platform, not everyone is in the same position to exploit the opportunities offered by the digital arena. Indeed, the capacity to improve life chances using the Internet is shaped by previous positions in the social strata. To put it differently, what determines individuals’ chances to improve their position in society is not the simple possession of better skills and qualifications, but, above all, their capacity to offer and use these in the social realm. Appropriate access to and use of ICTs can give citizens a wide-ranging array of opportunities to improve their social position. An effective and productive way of using ICTs offers information-enhancing options to permit previously unknown actions. However, without the support of solid social network and the skills and capacities to exploit and reinvest in the offline reality, citizens lose part of the potentialities offered by the Internet. Services, information, applications, and opportunities offered by the Internet are more likely to

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be fully exploited by well-educated individuals, especially those belonging to socially advantaged classes, who will use these chances to improve and reinforce their position in society.

Concluding Thoughts One of the assumptions that has formed this chapter is that digital divide and digital inequalities tend to strengthen social inequalities that already exist in the offline society, both at the micro and macro levels, and enlarge the gap between the less advantaged and the most advantaged individuals/ countries. As we have seen, in its broadest terms, the digital divide describes the incapacity of specific social categories (national digital divide), or some countries (global digital divide), to use technological tools to expand and enhance their life chances. The advantages and disadvantages of accessing and using the Internet act in a vicious circle based on the pre-existing socioeconomic and cultural structure. This is why an analysis of digital inequalities has to take into consideration the political, cultural, and social system within which technologies are embedded and work. More specifically, social and digital inequalities reciprocally influence each other and must be seen as complementary phenomena. The trend (that cannot be seen in absolutist terms) is that those (individuals and countries) who tend to obtain more valuable resources in the social world are, in some ways, the same that tend to exploit ICTs most advantageously. However, while the Internet cannot be seen as a cause of inequalities, its different access and use – influenced by economic, cultural, personal, social, and political factors – influence social inequalities. As we have seen, the Internet opens up a wide array of opportunities in economic, political, social, and educational arenas, but different users and different countries do not exploit them in the same way, since previous backgrounds determine both its usage and the tangible outcomes of Internet usage. This is in line with the third level of digital divide, seen in relation to the capacities and possibilities to transform valuable digital resources and knowledge into social and tangible benefits. In conclusion, I reiterate the idea that the third level of digital divide is the result of the different uses of the Internet linked to previous social inequalities. As we have seen, the first level of digital divide is mainly based on access to the Internet, while the second level refers to the different usage of the Internet; as for the third level, it is the consequence of these two previous forms, tied with pre-existing social inequalities. To put it differently, the third level of digital divide, based on the capacity and

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possibility to access the Internet, and the motivation and skills to use it in the ‘right’ way, focuses on the social consequences of Internet usage. This reconceptualisation of digital divide moves away from the focus on the digital arena, by addressing it as a social issue. It is not the simple access to the Internet itself (first level of digital divide) that expands life chances, but rather the motivations, skills, and purpose of use (second level of digital divide) and the opportunities and capacities to convert the possibilities offered by the ICTs into concrete and tangible resources (third level of digital divide) that increase the possibilities to move up the social ladder. It is then vital that policy-makers act to bridge the digital divide and engender digital development; however, it would be wrong to focus only on the access, as suggested by some local and international actors. While it is vital to close the first level of digital divide (specifically for those areas, such as Africa, that are excluded from digital opportunities), an approach that takes into account ‘especially in Internet access’ risks to replace the (first level) digital divide with digital inequalities (second and third level) that are much more difficult to eradicate and may reinforce social inequalities.

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Cavanaugh, J.W. (2000). ‘E-democracy: Thinking About the Impact of Technology on Civic Life’. National Civic Review, 89, 229-234. Compaine, B. (1988). ‘Information gaps: Myth or reality?’. In B. Compaine (Ed.), Issues in new information technology, (179-191). Norwood, NJ: Ablex Publishing Company.Compaine, B.M. (2001). The digital: facing a crisis or creating a myth? Boston: MIT Press. Correa, T. (2010). ‘The participation divide among “online experts”: experience, skills and psychological factors as predictors of college students’ web content creation’. Journal of Computer-Mediated Communication, 16(1), 71-92. De Haan, J. (2003). ‘IT and social inequality in the Netherlands’. IT & Society, 1(4), 27-45. Devaraj, S. and Kohli, R. (2003). ‘Performance Impacts of Information Technology: Is Actual Usage the Missing Link?’. Management Science, 49(3), 273-289. Dewan, S., Ganley, D. and Kraemer, K. L. (2005). ‘Across the Digital Divide. A crosscountry multi-technology analysis of the determinants of IT penetration’. Journal of the Association for Information Systems, 6(12), 409-432. DiMaggio, P. and Bonikowski, B. (2008). ‘Make Money Surfing the Web? The Impact of Internet Use on the Earnings of U.S. Workers’. American Sociological Review, 73(2), 227-250. DiMaggio, P., Hargittai, E., Russell Neuman, W., and Robinson J. P. (2001). ‘Social Implications of the Internet’. Annual Review of Sociology, 27(1), 307-336. DiMaggio, P., Hargittai, E., Celeste, C., and Shafer, S. (2004). ‘Digital Inequality, From Unequal Access to Differentiated Use’. In K. Neckerman (Ed.), Social Inequality (355-400). New York: Russell Sage Foundation. Epstein, D., Nisbet, E.C., and Gillespie, T. (2011). ‘Who’s responsible for the digital divide? Public perceptions and policy implications’. The Information Society, 27(2), 92-104. Fox, S. (2001). ‘Wired seniors: a fervent few, inspired by family ties’. Pew Internet & American Life Project. Retrieved 8 June 2016 from http://www.pewinternet. org/2001/09/09/wired-seniors/ Gender Gap Audit (2016). ‘Women’s Rights Online Report Cards’. World Wide Web Foundation. Retrieved 8 June 2018 from http://webfoundation.org/docs/2016/09/ WRO-Gender-Report-Card_Overview.pdf Goldfarb, A. and Prince, J. (2008). ‘Internet Adoption and Usage Patterns are Different: Implications for the Digital Divide’. Information Economics and Policy, 20(1), 2-15. Guillén, M.F. and Suárez, S.L. (2001). ‘Developing the Internet: Entrepreneurship and Public Policy in Ireland, Singapore, Argentina, and Spain’. Telecommunications Policy, 25(5), 349- 371. Hargittai, E. (2000). ‘Open Portals or Closed Gates? Channeling Content on the World Wide Web’. Poetics (Journal of Empirical Research on Culture, the Media and the Arts), 27(4), 233-254.

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Hargittai, E. (2002). ‘Second Level Digital Divide: Differences in People’s Online Skills’. First Monday, 7(4). Hargittai, E. and Hinnant, A. (2008). ‘Digital inequality: differences in young adults’ use of the Internet’. Communication Research, 35(5), 602-621. Hargittai, E. and Hsieh, Y.P. (2010). ‘From Dabblers to Omnivores: A Typology of Social Network Site Usage’. In Z. Papacharissi (Ed.), A Networked Self (146-168). London: Routledge. Hargittai, E. and Walejko, G., (2008). ‘The participation divide: content creation and sharing in the digital age. Information, Communication & Society, 11(2), 239-256. Hassani, S.N. (2006). ‘Locating digital divides at home, work, and everywhere else’. Poetics, 34(4-5), 250–272. Retrieved 20 September 2016 from http://www. sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0304422X06000209. Hilbert, M. (2011). ‘Digital Gender Divide or Technologically Empowered Women in Developing Countries? A Typical Case of Lies, Damned Lies, and Statistics’. Women’s Studies International Forum, 34, 479-489. Hilbert, M., López, P., and Vasquez, C. (2010). ‘Information societies or “ICT equipment societies”? Measuring the digital information processing capacity of a society in bits and bytes’. The Information Society, 26(3), 157-178. Hoffman, D.L. and Novak, T.P. (1998). ‘Bridging the racial divide on the Internet’. Science, 280, 390-391. Howard, P., Busch, L., and Sheets, P. (2010). ‘Comparing digital divides: Internet access and social inequality in Canada and the United States’. Canadian Journal of Communication, 35(1), 109-128. Hsieh, J.P.A., Rai, A., and Keil, M. (2008). ‘Understanding Digital Inequality: Comparing Continued Use Behavioural Models of the Social-Economically Advantaged and Disadvantaged’. MIS Quarterly, 32, 97-126. International Telecommunications Union (2016). ‘ICT Facts and Figures 2016’. ICT Data and Statistics Division Telecommunication Development Bureau International Telecommunication Union. Retrieved 8 May 2018 from https://www.itu.int/en/ ITU-D/Statistics/Documents/facts/ICTFactsFigures2016.pdf Katz, J.E. and Aspden, P. (1997). ‘Motives, hurdles and dropouts. Who is on and off the Internet and why’. Communications of the ACM, 40(4), 97-102. Kling, R. (1998). Technological and Social Access on Computing, Information and Communication Technologies. White Paper for Presidential Advisory Committee on High-Performance Computing and Communications, Information Technology, and the Next Generation Internet. Lenhart, A. and Horrigan, J.B. (2003). ‘Revisualizing the digital divide as a digital spectrum’. IT and Society, 1(5), 23-39. Moore, D.W. (1995). The Emperor’s Virtual Clothes: The Naked Truth About Internet Culture. New York: Algonquin Books.

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Mutsvairo, B. and Ragnedda, M. (2017). ‘Emerging political narratives on Malawian digital spaces’. Communicatio: South African Journal for Communication Theory and Research, 43(2), 147-167. National Telecommunications and Information Administration, (1995). ‘Falling Through the Net: A Survey of the “Have Nots” in Rural and Urban America’. Retrieved 10 October 2016 from http://www.ntia.doc.gov/ntiahome/fallingthru.html. National Telecommunications and Information Administration, (1998). ‘Falling Through the Net II: New Data on the Digital Divide’. Retrieved 10 October 2016 from http://www.ntia.doc.gov/ntiahome/net2/falling.html. National Telecommunications and Information Administration, (1999). ‘Falling through the net: Defining the digital divide’. Retrieved 10 October 2016 from http://www.ntia.doc.gov/ntiahome/fttn99/contents.html. National Telecommunications and Information Administration, (2000). ‘Falling Through the Net: Toward Digital Inclusion’. Washington: US Department of Commerce. Retrieved 10 October 2016 from http://www.ntia.doc.gov/ntiahome/ fttn00/contents00.html. National Telecommunications and Information Administration, (2002). ‘A Nation Online: How Americans Are Expanding Their Use of the Internet’. Retrieved 10 October 2016 from: http://www.ntia.doc.gov/ntiahome/dn/html/anationonline2.htm. National Telecommunications and Information Administration, (2004). ‘A Nation Online: Entering the Broadband Age’. Washington, DC. Retrieved 10 October 2016 from https://www.ntia.doc.gov/report/2004/nation-online-entering-broadbandage. Norris, P. (2001). Digital Divide: Civic Engagement, Information Poverty and the Internet in Democratic Societies. New York: Cambridge University Press. Ono, H. and Zavodny, M. (2008). ‘Immigrants, English Ability, and the Digital Divide’. Social Science Quarterly, 36(3), 1135-1155. Ragnedda, M. and Muschert, G. W. (2016). ‘Theorizing Digital Divides and Digital Inequalities’. In J. Servaes and T. Oyedemi (Eds.), Social Inequalities, Media and Communication: A Global Perspective (23-35). London: Lexington Books. Ragnedda, M. and Muschert, G.W. (2017). Theorizing the Digital Divides. Oxford: Routledge. Ragnedda, M., and Ruiu, M.L. (2017). ‘Social capital and the three levels of digital divide’. In M. Ragnedda and G.W. Muschert (Eds.), Theorizing Digital Divides (21-34). Oxford: Routledge. Ragnedda, M. and Muschert, G.W. (Eds.) (2013). The Digital Divide: The Internet and Social Inequality in International Perspective. Oxford: Routledge. Ragnedda, M. (2017). The third Digital Divide: a weberian approach to digital inequalities. Oxford: Routledge.

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Rogers, E.M. (2003). Diffusion of innovations (5th ed.). New York: Free Press. Selwyn, N. (2004). ‘Reconsidering political and popular understandings of the digital divide’. New Media & Society, 6(3), 341-362. Servon, L.J. (2002). Bridging the Digital Divide: Technology, Community and Public Policy. Oxford: Blackwell. Sparks, C. (2013). ‘What is the “digital divide” and why is it important?’ Javnost, The Public: Journal of the European Institute for Communication and Culture, 20(2), 27-46. Stevenson, S. (2009). ‘Digital divide: A discursive move away from the real inequities’. The Information Society, 25(1), 1-22. Thierer, A. (2000). ‘Is the digital divide a virtual reality?’ Consumers’ Research Magazine, 83(7), 16-21. Tondeur, J., Sinnaeve, I., van Houtte, M., and van Braak, J. (2011). ‘ICT as cultural capital: the relationship between socioeconomic status and the computer-use profile of young people’. New Media & Society, 13(1), 151-168. UN (2015). Open Working Group proposal for Sustainable Development Goals. Retrieved 10October 2016 from https://sustainabledevelopment.un.org/content/ documents/1579SDGs%20Proposal.pdf. van Deursen, A.J.A.M. and van Dijk, J.A.G.M. (2014). ‘The digital divide shifts to differences in usage’. New Media and Society, 16(3), 507-526. van Deursen, A.J.A.M. and van Dijk, Jan A.G.M. (2009). ‘Improving digital skills for the use of online public information and services’. Government Information Quarterly, 26(2), 333-340. van Deursen, A.J.A.M., van Dijk, J.A.G.M., and Klooster, P.M. (2015). ‘Increasing inequalities in what we do online: A longitudinal cross sectional analysis of Internet activities among the Dutch population (2010 to 2013) over gender, age, education, and income’. Telematics and Informatics, 32(2), 259-272. van Dijk, J.A.G.M. and Hacker, K. (2003). ‘The “Digital Divide” as a Complex and Dynamic Phenomenon’. The Information Society, 19(4), 315-326. van Dijk, J.A.G.M. (1999). The Network Society, Social aspects of the new media. London, Thousand Oaks, New Delhi: Sage Publications. van Dijk, J.A.G.M. (2005). The deepening divide. Inequality in the information society. London: Sage. van Dijk, J.A.G.M. (2006). ‘Digital divide research, achievements and shortcomings’. Poetics, 34(4-5), 221-235. Wang, C.H, McLee, Y., and Kuo, J.H. (2001). ‘Mapping the Intellectual Structure of Digital Divide’. International Journal of Social Science and Humanity, 1(1), 49-54. Warschauer M. (2002). ‘Reconceptualising the Digital Divide’. First Monday, 7(7). Retrieved 10 October 2016 from http://www.firstmonday.org/issues/issue7_7/ warschauer/.

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Warshauer, M. (2004). Technology and Social Inclusion: Rethinking the Digital Divide. London: The MIT press. Wilson, E.J. (2006). The information revolution and developing countries. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Witte, J.C. and Mannon, S.E. (2010). The Internet and Social Inequalities. New York: Routledge. World Bank (2016). From Digital Divides to Digital Dividends. Retrieved 10 October 2016 from http://www.worldbank.org/en/news/infographic/2016/01/13/ from-digital-divides-to-digital-dividends. Zhu, K. and Kraemer, K.L. (2005). ‘Post-adoption variations in usage and value of e-business by organizations: Cross-country evidence from the retail industry’. Information Systems Research, 16(1), 61-84.

About the author Massimo Ragnedda is a senior lecturer in Mass Communications at Northumbria University, UK. Prior to joining Northumbria University, he worked at the University of Sassari from 2006 to 2012. During this time, he worked as a lecturer and supervisor of research, published widely and delivered presentations in several countries across the world. He earned his PhD from the University of Sassari.

3.

From Global to Local, Metropolitan to Village A Case for a Definitional and Context-Oriented Approach to Examining the ‘Digital Divide’ Tenford Chitanana

Abstract This study argues for a definitional and contextual approach to examining the digital divide in its theoretical and practical sense. Such an approach narrows the foundational theoretical ideas and practical experiences from a global to a local perspective, placing the emphasis on meanings rooted in local knowledge rather than ‘set’ standards. The chapter uses the transformative role of mobile phones in Zimbabwe, and a secondary review of digital divide literature, to demonstrate the disconnect between global perspectives of the divide and the local experiences from urban and rural Zimbabwe. In addition to the definitional and contextual arguments, a basic political-economy approach is applied to the discourse around access, or lack of access, to digital technologies and the meaning of the digital divide in Zimbabwe. This underpins the chapter’s reflection on entrenched power dynamics and inequalities that magnify and perpetuate the divide. The chapter argues that, to get a better sense of digital divide, access and utilisation of ICTs should be assessed with an equitable consideration of the individuals’ needs, depending on their social, political, and economic contexts. Keywords: Mobile, Mobile phones, Zimbabwe, Africa, Digital divide, Access

Mutsvairo, B., M. Ragnedda (eds), Mapping the Digital Divide in Africa. A Mediated Analysis, Amsterdam University Press, 2019. doi: 10.5117/9789462986855_ch03

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Introduction The ubiquitous availability of new media technologies, especially mobile phones, amid unremitting social inequalities has created a new puzzle when it comes to understanding not only the efficacy of digital technologies, but the nexus of technology and societies in sub-Saharan Africa. One of the key phenomena that has emerged from this techno-evolution is the ‘digital divide’, a concept used to describe inequalities brought about by emerging technologies. The term has become a catchall phrase applied in broad discourses: global health and medicine, education, security and military, commerce and industry, and even communication. As such, digital divide has been open to broad interpretations. Unlike economic inequality, from which it derives the dichotomous comparison of the ‘haves’ and ‘have nots’, understanding digital divide requires a reflexive regressive and progressive approach to digital technologies and how different societies harness their power to address local needs. This study demonstrates the disparity between a predominantly global perspective of digital divide and the local reality of information and communication technologies (ICT) access and uses. It explores digital divide and argues for a definitional and contextual approach to examining the divide in its theoretical sense as well as its practical realities in Zimbabwe. Such an approach emphasises meanings rooted in local knowledge rather than a deterministic view of digital divide. The approach narrows down the foundational theoretical ideas and practical experiences from a global to a local perspective. Thus, for this study, the dominant explanation of digital divide offers a departure point for a context-specific application of the term. While the chapter does not go into the details of analysing digital divide through Bryman’s ‘discursive event’ analysis (2012, 538), it recognises the meaning and social context in which the divide is considered. Through this lens, the chapter follows some of the key characteristics of the digital divide and how those shape our understanding of the ‘divide’, using examples primarily from Zimbabwe. First, the chapter gives an overview of the methods and approaches used in the study. Second, it discusses the digital divide discourse. In doing so, it also examines key perspectives and definitions of the terms and their inherent implications on the general understanding of digital divide in literature and in practice. Third, it gives a general overview of ICTs in Zimbabwe, focusing on relevant data and events. This is followed by a discussion of the character of the digital divide in Zimbabwe, unpacking what digital divide means through a locally oriented point of view. Then, the chapter looks at

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the underlying contextual dynamics– power, control, and ownership over telecommunication systems– in relationship to digital divide. It offers a brief critique of challenges in addressing digital divide through deterministic solutions. Considering challenges in defining and applying a unified digital divide model in varied situations, the chapter ends with a reiteration of the call for definitional and context-specific approaches.

Methods and Approach The chapter applies a constructionist ontological stance (Bryman, 2012), placing emphasis on reality and meaning as a construct of those who live it rather than a set standard to abide by. In examining the digital divide in Zimbabwe, the chapter uses a desk review of studies on the subject. The reviewed literature includes industry papers and scholarly research on digital divide and ICTs, covering a range of geographic locations – largely United States and sub-Saharan Africa, with a focus on Zimbabwe. The reviewed literature was selected through two approaches. First, a Google Scholar search of literature on digital divide, then a snowball of related literature as cited in the reviewed papers. Additional material was gathered through searches on similar information but with an emphasis on sub-Saharan Africa and Zimbabwe. The secondary review foregrounds the chapter’s treatment of perspectives of digital media and forms the point of departure for this study. The chapter augments and juxtaposes the studied literature with cases of ICT usage in Zimbabwe, particularly the transformative use of mobile phones in communication and finance. Other observations are generated from the author’s involvement in Civil Society Organisations (CSOs) working with rural and urban communities in Zimbabwe. These CSOs use ICTs and other forms of communication to engage with communities on issues related to participation in political processes and other human rights-related topics. A significant share of digital divide literature reviewed for this study use ‘explanatory’ frames as opposed to an ‘understanding’ of why and how the divide exists. While empirical realist approaches such as measuring digital divide in terms of kilobyte use per person or enumerating devices to understand the gaps (Hilbert and López, 2012) may show observable patterns of unequal or gains in access and use of information technologies, they do not engage the underlying mechanisms influencing how and why people do or do not access ICTs. This chapter’s context-oriented approach examines the status quo of ICTs as influenced by mechanisms and structures

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of human society within which they exist. It applies a general politicaleconomy perspective to place digital divide in the context of ownership, power, and control. When analysed within such a perspective, technological inequality is seen not as a natural phenomenon, but as a state of being that is orchestrated by multiple factors and actors. Where people are connected, their uses of new media technology and the messages they receive on these technologies are products of the society, particularly driven by those who wield power and influence. The political-economy approach acknowledges the integral role of ‘historical and material determinants’ (Garnham, 1979, 125). Recognising the critical juncture in the growth of media and media technologies in postwar Britain, Garnham calls for the need to understand cultural ‘production, consumption, and reproduction’ and the role of media in that process (1979,145). McChesney’s distinction of media and communication systems and their influence on society as well as how the relationship between media ownership and legal systems affects media (McChesney, 2000), offers an apt overview of the political-economy approach used in this study. Considering the unequal nature of societies and economies, Mansell (2004) argues for the essential need for the political-economy approach in investigating new media. In his view, despite plurality of new media tools and their applications, there are enduring issues of structure, ownership, and means of production that limit access and influence usage of these media. Existing political, economic, regulatory, and social environments can affect the extent to which people can adopt and use these new technologies, effectively influencing their potential impact. Also, because of a sustained relationship between media and the broader structure of society, particularly its political economy – economics of production and consumption (Lister, 2009), media systems can ‘reinforce, challenge, or influence existing class and social organisation’ (McChesney, Wood, and Foster, 1998, 3). Accordingly, context matters in examining digital divide and the impact of new media and information technologies.

An Overview of Digital Divide Discourse The def inition of ‘digital divide’ remains elusive and contested. Since the coining of the phrase, it has shapeshifted in terms of meaning and application. A predominant and traditional view of digital divide tends to portray the dichotomous differentiation of the ‘haves’ and ‘have-nots’ of ICTs (McConnaughey, Lader, Chin, and Everette, 1998; Schaefer, 2008;

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Telecommunications & Information Administration, 1995; Thomas, 2009). Another view applies a multi-differentiation approach to understanding digital divide, taking into consideration not only access, or lack thereof, but ability to apply ICTs beneficially and access to essential ICT support (Fink and Kenny, 2003; Kim and Kim, 2001). DiMaggio, Hargittai, Neuman, and Robinson (2001) expand the definition to include quality of connection and extent of use, and diversity of Internet uses. James (2004) supports the view that digital divide should also look at who benef its from the Internet. Hilbert (2011a) broadens the definitional framework to include who and from which social stratification gets connected, how, and to what. While this approach offers a wider paradigm in which digital divide can be understood, it does not capture the human factors such as where and why people get connected. Attempts to understand digital divide present two definitional challenges inherent in the phrase digital divide itself. ‘What is digital? What is being divided?’ While early research on digital divide used landlines, personal computers, and television sets, as the digital or technological units being assessed, recent assessments have focused on the Internet, mobile phones, and mobile-phone-enabled Internet connection. As shall be discussed in this chapter, this challenge affects our conceptualisation of the effects of new technologies in environments such as Zimbabwe that are considered technology-poor. Compaine (2001) defines digital divide as a perceived gap between those with and without access to ICTs. Schaefer (2008) defines digital divide as a gap in access to ‘technology’. Thomas (2009) sees it as a gap in access to ‘information and communications technology’. Finally, Dwight (2009) sees it as a gap in access to ‘computers and digital information sources’. The scope of what digital means has expanded and shifted with the introduction of new digital technologies. This creates a potential challenge in our understanding of, and attempts to redress, the perceived gaps. There are also definitional constraints in differentiating use from access and in determining what use or access entail, as well as in how to measure use and access (Galperin, 2010; Hilbert, 2011b). Another challenge is in determining what is being divided ‒ whether it is global ICT inequalities between low-income and resource-rich countries and the opportunities derived from ICTs (Manuel Castells, 1998; Cullen, 2001; Lu, 2001; Telecommunications & Information Administration 1995), or the divide between countries, or within regions (Mutula, 2008; Nour, 2015), or a local divide within countries (Edet Ani, Uchendu, and Atseye, 2007; McConnaughey et al., 1998; Telecommunications & Information Administration, 1995; Warschauer, 2003).

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As observed by Warschauer (2003), the dichotomous digital divide framework assumes a zero-sum constant state – of either being connected or not, when, in fact, connectivity is a shifting continuum shaped by several factors. The term seems to ignore the pre-existing inequalities that may have a bearing on people’s abilities to access and use digital technologies. What is also apparent in the digital divide discourse is an implied assumption that, beyond dividing people, technology can stratify groups of people and predetermine their statuses in the Information Age. Such views as Castells’s Information Society (Castells, 1996; Castells, 1998) in which technology is conceived as a gateway into the Information Age and without which people face daunting challenges accessing livelihoods and other essential needs, demonstrate a discourse dipped in Western reality. Digital divide is as varied as the contexts within which it exists. As Castells rightfully notes, societies are not just products of technological or economic transformation, their trajectories of marginality evolve over time from places having little to do with ICTs (Castells, 1998, 164). Inequalities in digital technologies access and use thrive on pre-existing socioeconomic and political realities. Thus, a homogeneous outlook of digital divide may do more harm than good (Hilbert, 2011a). Applying this thinking to the Zimbabwean context, there is a need for a tailored approach to examining digital disparities. Such an approach ought to be situated within the realities of Zimbabweans and to be informed by the experiences of harnessing digital technologies to address their socioeconomic needs. This resonates with Wasserman’s distinction of the technological deterministic approach from the context-centred approach. The former is concerned with what happens to people when ICTs transmit information to them while the latter is concerned with what happens to technology when people embrace it (Wasserman, 2011).

Zimbabwe ICT Environment The ability to use and adapt information technology is critical to accessing wealth, power, and knowledge (Castells, 1998). Citing Odedra, Bennett, Goodman, and Lawrie (1993), Manuel Castells (1998) identifies the lack of physical infrastructure and human skills for ICT operations as one of the key challenges facing the African continent in the networked society. While exploring the socioeconomic impact of new technologies, or lack thereof, Castells concludes that, ‘The disinformation of Africa at the dawn of the Information Age may be the most lasting wound inflicted on the continent

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by new patterns of dependency, intensified by the policies of the predatory state’ (1998, 95). Not having access to information in the Information Age is considered a social and economic handicap (Compaine, 2001). The network capability of sub-Saharan African countries has changed drastically since Castells’s writing. Like the rest of the continent, Zimbabwe’s Internet and mobile penetration rates have grown significantly over the past 15 years. Per Postal and Telecommunications Regulatory Authority of Zimbabwe (POTRAZ) data, the number of active mobile subscriptions grew by 3.5% between the second and the third quarter of 2017 (POTRAZ, 2017). This represents a surge in mobile penetration, now estimated by POTRAZ to be at 100.5%. Mobile usage is significant in that over 90% of all Internet connectivity in Zimbabwe is through mobile-enabled third-generation (3G) cellular technology connection. Thus, growth in mobile subscription has also catapulted consumption of Internet services, which increased by 39.1%–from 2968.2 Terabytes in quarter two to 4,129.4 Terabytes in quarter three of 2017 (POTRAZ, 2017). Out of a population of 13.8 million (‘CIA Factbook, Zimbabwe’, 2018), 5.2 million Zimbabweans use the instant messaging application, WhatsApp. These figures are staggering when one considers that only 58.7% of the population are in the 15-64 years age bracket, the likely group to use such mobile applications. In fact, Facebook and WhatsApp usage account for 37% of all mobile data used in Zimbabwe (POTRAZ, 2016). This growth is having tremendous effects on how people create and consume media. Increased mobile connectivity is having a significant effect on the economic, social, and political fronts. Zimbabwe’s mobile money platforms, Ecocash, Telecash, and OneWallet, are enabling people to conduct financial transactions easily. POTRAZ data show that telecommunication clients´ mobile money transfers across three Zimbabwean mobile platforms amounted to over $486.7 million between the first and third quarter of 2017 (POTRAZ, 2017). In April 2016, a YouTube video by a Clergyman, Evan Mawarire, reflecting on corruption and economic suffering of Zimbabweans 36 years after independence led to widespread #ThisFlag protests. These protests, together with other related protests such as Tajamuka and Occupy Africa Unity Square, have featured prominently on Zimbabwe’s online space. In some cases, they have resulted in mass offline actions. The #ZimShutDown protests successfully influenced people to stay away from work on 6 July 2016 and the week of 14 January 2019. Online and offline actions have, however, resulted in heavy-handed government response. Leading activists such as Evan Mawarire, Patson Dzamara, and Fadzayi Mahere, have been arrested for their social media posts or offline protests.

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Apart from physical intimidation and arrests of activist under the criminal codification laws – charging them with inciting violence and subverting a constitutional government, the State increased efforts to curb online dissent through other means. First, the Zimbabwean government introduced a draft National Policy for Information and Communications Technology (see Zimbabwe Online, 2015) regarded as a unifying framework for centralised control of the Internet. In August 2016, the Computer Crime and Cybercrime Bill was also introduced in response to growing online dissent and criticism of the Mugabe government (see Freedom House, 2016). Facing the threat of continued and stronger online and offline protests, the then government temporarily shut down access to WhatsApp and Facebook on 6 July 2016 (Freedom on the Net, Zimbabwe, 2016). In October 2016, the government introduced a short-lived Ministry of Cyber Security, Threat Detection, and Mitigation to enhance government oversight of new media usage (Kunambura, 2017; Maodza, 2017). On 15 January 2019, the government invoked the Interception of Communications Act to enforce a 24-hour internet blackout. In subsequent days, the state security officials instructed Internet Service Providers (ISPs) to block usage of social media and instant messaging platforms such as WhatsApp to quell the #ShutDownZim2019 protests. Notwithstanding a generally positive outlook in uptake and usage, a Freedom House Report notes that Internet usage reflects an urban-rural divide (Freedom House, 2016). Despite expansion in telecommunications base stations, a significant number of the stations in Zimbabwe, over 50% out of 8278, are second-generation (2G) cellular technology stations (POTRAZ, 2017). Limitations in infrastructure tend to affect rural areas, where there is partial mobile Internet connectivity. Penetration of social media platforms like Facebook is still very low, 5.2 % (Zimbabwe Internet Usage and Marketing Report, 2017), and their usage is limited to big cities like Harare and Bulawayo. Government efforts to improve ICT uptake have largely been short-lived and lacking in targeted user buy-in. For example, in 1997 and 2010, the Zimbabwean government launched and relaunched, respectively, ZARnet, a presidential e-learning initiative meant to create critical skills in ICTs among students. The project sought to address key factors contributing to digital divide, mainly access to computers and ability to use them effectively. It goes without saying that the e-learning and computerisation programmes died a natural death, and there are no studies evaluating the efficacy of this ICTs-in-schools drive. Konyana and Konyana (2013), while discussing this computerisation drive, submit that rural students lagged in their ability to use ICTs, compared to their urban counterparts. They identify a need for tailored ICT education to match the contextual reality of the rural students (Konyana and Konyana, 2013).

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There are also limitations in ownership and control of telecommunications. On one hand, a large private player operates most of the country’s mobile and Internet services. Per POTRAZ data, 78.7% of the country’s broadband connection is through a single operator, Liquid Telecom, a subsidiary of Econet, and a sister company of Zimbabwe’s largest mobile operator Econet Wireless. On the other hand, the government’s control over the ICTs regulatory body, POTRAZ, and ICT policing, has created a huge monopoly with little checks and balances. These contextual realities have a bearing on Zimbabweans’s access and adoption of telecommunication technologies.

The Nature and Implication of Digital Divide in Zimbabwe Having reflected on the definitional challenges and having offered a contextual overview, understanding the nature and implications of digital divide is pertinent. In its normative form, Zimbabwean digital divide can be characterised as based on the basis of geography and age. Rural communities are less connected to the new media technologies as compared with their peers in urban areas. Young people tend to be more active and adept at using new media. When one looks closely at the Zimbabwean landscape, it is easy to see that in some cases the connected are in the minority. Social activists, such as Magamba Network, a youth cultural movement; BustopTV, a satirical Facebook show; and even #ThisFlag movement, despite achieving recognition online and internationally, are less known outside major urban centres in Zimbabwe. Magamba Network’s biggest platforms are Facebook and YouTube, yet there are only 850 thousand Zimbabwean Facebook users (Internet Usage and Population Statistics for Africa [Summary Dataset], 2017), out of a population of nearly 14 million people. As such, the role of the Internet and social media in this context should not be overplayed. While the transformative impact of technology on society can hardly be questioned, submits Mutsvairo (2013a), it is dangerous to assume that it will work in places like rural Zimbabwe. In the case of Murehwa, a rural area in Zimbabwe, he argues that some people have not encountered new communication technologies and would neither know how to use them nor would they be interested in using said technologies. Where people have their trusted channels that may or may not be related to modern technologies, they will choose traditional media such as word-of-mouth, especially for political communication. In such cases, technologies might have little effect in comparison with people’s own will to change or maintain the status quo. Others have cautioned that we should not ignore traditional communication

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and mobilisation ties as doing so can lead to disempowerment of the intended beneficiaries (Ekine, 2010, xiv-xv). Instead, technology must be applied when it is the best solution, one that is embraced by the targeted users. In addition to and considering the above, locating haves and have nots in Zimbabwe requires a reflection on the complex reasons shaping access, or lack thereof, to ICTs and the implications of either of the statuses. For example, apart from the fact that digital connectivity is not the only communicative ecology for access and dissemination of information in Zimbabwe, individuals may do without it, and they can participate in issues that they find engaging with or without new media technology (Mutsvairo, 2013a). Lack of access to the Internet does not necessarily impede one’s ability to interface with politics or to contribute to social change. Though reflective of the American environment, Anderson, Bikson, Law, and Mitchell’s (2001) observation of the potential implications of the digital inequality in people’s employment, education, civic participation, and social capitalisation barely applies in Zimbabwe. For instance, most government information and consequential political dialogue are, for the most part, delivered offline. Also, considering the repressive nature of the government in Zimbabwe and an environment which breeds unwillingness to adopt new media technologies, Mutsvairo (2013b) concludes that users would rather stick to ‘safer’ uses. One such safer use is financial inclusion of the traditionally unbanked members of the society into a growing digital economy mediated through mobile phones. Over a decade ago, Econet, a leading Zimbabwean telecoms company, initiated EcoCash – a mobile application that enables users to send and receive money. This platform and other ones similar to it are based on simple telephony technology accessible to rural and urban folks alike. In the face of a cash crisis, Zimbabweans are using these mobile money platforms for everyday financial transactions. The ubiquity of mobile money has upended traditional banking and other forms of money transfers. Their use is expanding to include international remittances as well as health and life assurance. Yet another example is the early adoption and use of basic instant messaging applications like WhatsApp in Zimbabwe. The application allows users with rudimentary mobile phones to connect with different communities and to access information and entertainment. Despite being elementary technologies and requiring little infrastructure for users, these two platforms have significantly transformed Zimbabwean banking and communication. As such, while most Zimbabweans are not connected to the Internet (per POTRAZ data), this does not necessarily imply economic, social, or political disadvantage as it would in other contexts. Users from diverse economic backgrounds can participate in the financial space as

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much as they can communicate and consume media through the relatively low-cost WhatsApp platform. Such cases challenge the global one-size-fit-all approaches to understanding digital divide.

The Structural Aspect of the Digital Divide Cases like EcoCash and WhatsApp adoption in Zimbabwe should not lead to complacent conclusions that consider Zimbabwe as a digitally equal society. When assessed in its own terms, the country still has wide digital divides. These disparities in access to and use of ICTs are a product of underlying mechanisms that sustain them and those that discourage transformative action to bridge the gaps. For instance, institutional deficiencies, or historical and traditional inequalities, might be factors inhibiting adoption and adaptation of new technologies. Zimbabwe has had impasses of historic proportion when it comes to technology adoption– in the 1990s, the government stood in the way of a private entrepreneur who wanted to set up the country’s first cellular network. Government monopoly as both the sole owner of the national postal telecommunications company (operating fixed lines) and regulator of the industry ensured that it prevented a private start-up operator from entering the telecommunications space for five years, from 1993 to 1998 (Takavarasha and Makumbe, 2012; Velamuri, 2003). In 2017, the same operator had similar challenges while trying to acquire an operating licence for Over the Top Television network (Agere, 2017; Kabweza, 2017). Zimbabwe’s extractive political and economic institutions (Acemoglu and Robinson, 2013) discourage more independent media from thriving. They prop up only a powerful few, who use their political and economic control to safeguard and further their extraction. Rural-urban disparity in access and use of ICTs in Zimbabwe also reflects a key characteristic of digital divide. Historical imbalances – especially the socioeconomic inequality between rural and urban communities ‒ affect who gets access to what and when. The rural Zimbabwean communities, a product of colonial-era policies, have remained economically disadvantaged and this is reflected in other socioeconomic spheres. Access to digital technologies is no exception. This resonates with Rubin (2017), who observes the relationship between digital divide and economic situations. He argues that, as people’s incomes increase, so does their Internet usage. One can also infer that, as the poor get poorer, their potential use of ICTs declines. In the face of pressing livelihood needs, ordinary citizens must decide between buying data to engage online or meeting some of their more urgent needs, like food

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and shelter. When put into this perspective, digital divide is not a unique characteristic of the Information Age, but rather it mirrors, reinforces, and perpetuates existing power dynamics and inequalities (Ekine, 2010). Hence, as argued by Wasserman (2011), there is a need for a localised understanding of how and why people interact and use ICTs to help ground an understanding of the political economy and social dynamics of a given context. Some commentators have also argued that the perception of telecommunications companies as progressives seeking to change the world is an inherently flawed argument. Such views, they argue, are related to the perception of markets as enablers for social progress while ignoring the political and economic powers underlying telecoms markets (Manji, 2008; Wasserman, 2011). Rather, technologies ‘reflect the power of those who have control of them’ not vice-versa (Manji , 2008, 130). In Zimbabwe, mobile telephony and Internet access are largely driven by a single private-sector player. Though this private-sector drive increases competition and potentially reduces public-sector inefficiencies, it makes telecommunications less of a public good. This concomitantly removes the responsibility of governments to provide telecommunications services such as access to the Internet and a telephony network (see Stevenson, 2009, who sees the term digital divide as rhetoric, a public relations push by the United States government to legitimise deregulation policies that emphasised individual responsibilities in social advancement). Manji (2008) sees the spread of telecommunications as part of the process of imposition of neoliberal economic policies on African states, which, in the late 1980s, bankrupted many African states and left them unable to maintain or build their telecommunications industries. This view thus goes beyond the mere dichotomy epitomised in the foundational characterisation of digital divide, or the general celebratory nature of the view of new media technologies as game changers. As Manji observes, the reality of ICTs has more to do with profits driving what gets developed and who gets access, not the existing social needs driving what gets done (2008, 125). The economically disadvantaged do not have substantial power to influence the status quo; where they have influence, they largely do so as consumers and spectators.

Pitfalls of Tool-Based Approach to Addressing the Digital Divide Attempts to address digital divide in Zimbabwe have come through initiatives led by the government and Non-Governmental Organisations (NGOs). Some of these initiatives include the government’s school computerisation

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program, discussed earlier, and distribution of shortwave radios and mobile phones by NGOs. There are several problems associated with these approaches. They mostly focus on access and tools but do not consider other dimensions like interest, relevance, content, and feasibility – in some rural areas, there is no electricity to regularly operate these gadgets. Another problem is that such interventions often lack buy-in of the targeted communities or they provide half-baked solutions to complex sociopolitical problems in targeted areas. For example, in the lead-up to the 2008 and 2013 elections in Zimbabwe, NGOs and CSOs distributed mobile phones and shortwave radio sets meant to receive Voice of America Studio 7 channels, as a way of enhancing access to information and to achieve political goals. The initiative lacked contextual comprehension: recipients of the gadgets were targeted by the regime, threatened with arrests, and, in some cases, had their devices confiscated (Chikuhwa, 2013; Takavarasha Jr and Masunungure, 2013; Tarugarira, 2015; Zimbabwe shortwave radios, 2010). There is no evidence to support that the distributed communication devices enhanced democratic change processes in Zimbabwe. The ‘tool approach’ to dealing with the digital divide seems to focus only on technological solutions at the expense of broader systemic analyses of the way economics and power are arranged and distributed.

A Case for a Contextual and Definitional Approach Despite the improved access (Zimbabwe Internet Usage and Marketing Report, 2017) and increased usage of mobile technologies, many African countries are still considered digital ‘have-nots’. The meaning of digital divide has changed to focus on Internet access, then Internet bandwidth, and then ICT skills gaps (Hargittai, 2003; Hilbert, 2014). This exposes a theoretical challenge in trying to pin down a moving target, as Hilbert (2014) calls it, because it is too narrow a focus with a deterministic emphasis on technologies rather than their use or need for them. A critical examination of the contextual and definitional approach to digital divide offers a potential for the domestication of new technologies in a way that not only fits a local political economy but also responds to the needs of the people, their technological abilities, and creative potential. Through a ‘social change model’ approach to technology (Ekine, 2010, x), one can argue that, when assessed in its own terms, technology access in Zimbabwe offers greater potential for social transformation. The social change model considers how the reality and needs of the people are

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magnified or amplified by technology to affect change (Ekine, 2010). Most importantly, people determine what works within their context to achieve the intended goals. In the case of Zimbabwe, while the telephony network is predominantly 2G, both urban and rural communities can still engage in their mobile money transfers. This enables the unbanked participate in the economy without the need for excessive paperwork, deposits, and travel to a physical bank like they would in traditional banking. Ekine (2010) argues that, in examining the impact of these new technologies, we should look beyond figures, because sociocultural contexts differ and may reveal what lies beyond mere numbers. A context-centred approach thus considers domestication of new technologies (Ling, 2004), where local communities iteratively adapt technologies to meet their needs and realities. Zimbabwe processes over US$8 billion worth of transactions and remittances through WorldRemit, EcoCash, and other mobile money platforms, per year (Herald, 2016; Patel, 2014). While this is minute on a global scale, in Zimbabwean terms, it represents 200% of the 2017 national budget of US$4.1 billion (Veritas, 2017). This relative comparison challenges the critics who see 2G phones as too rudimentary to bridge the digital divide between developed markets and emerging markets (Vanham, 2013). The fact that Zimbabweans are deploying digital technologies to address some of their daily challenges demonstrates opportunities generated by the ICTs – another proposed way to measure digital divide (Galperin, 2010; Hilbert, 2011b). Apart from access, motivation and reason to use the Internet also play a role in determining who uses it and who does not (de Bruijn and Lalaye, 2016; Hilbert, 2011a). People who see no need for Internet connectivity in their lives will not have the motivation to seek out the Internet actively. In considering the nature and implication of digital divide, new perspectives on technology adoption and its social influence are imperative. Such a perspective as offered by Vannoy and Palvia (2010) approaches technology adoption as something embraced rather than accepted. Where technology enables people to act or achieve something, it should be considered a tool that amplifies people’s agency rather than the agency itself. Where people are unconnected, we should look beyond the normative determinants of connectivity, to allow for nuanced contextual truths to surface from the political, economic, and social environments under study. Moreover, as technology advances, we should advance our understanding of digital divide with a local lens rather than a global outlook. This helps advance the study of digital divide and offers an alternative view of mechanisms that shape the rural-urban divide and the North-South inequalities.

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Conclusion In the final analysis, digital divide, as with other forms of inequality in which it is rooted, is a fleeting concept whose meaning evolves over time. Thus, our examination ought to factor in these shifts, especially locating them within the contextual truths of the societies under consideration. It goes without saying that, when assessed in a contextually informed way, digital divide is simultaneously a product of and contributor to complex factors hindering new media technologies’ transformative potential. The inequality manifest in the digital divide is persistent enough that it cannot be corrected by tools alone, without changing the underlying mechanisms that create and perpetuate it. Efforts to address the digital divide should not only be informed by the contextual realities but by an exposition of the entrenched inequalities that breed and shape the divide, as well as the institutional factors that perpetuate it. Rather than transplanting Western technologies to the south as a panacea for deep-rooted socioeconomic challenges, policy-makers and scholars alike should understand the needs of their target community and promote adoption and adaptation of ICTs. Definitional considerations proposed in this chapter deal with aspects of what people access and connect to, or not, and how they do so. The contextual considerations focus on who accesses and connects to what, or does not, and where and why they access and connect. A combination of these factors, applied in an iterative and reflexive manner, offer a fullbodied perception of digital divide. This chapter adds to this debate by placing ‘digital divide’ within a contextual and definitional approach, both in research and application. Further research could focus on specific locales to understand digital divide as defined and shaped by local reality using assessment approaches that take into consideration units for measuring ‘digital’ in ways that are relevant to a given community.

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Bryman, A. (2012). Social research methods. Oxford: OUP. Castells, M. (1996). The Rise of the Network Society. Cambridge, MA: Blackwell Publishing. Castells, M. (1998). The End of the Millennium. Cambridge MA: Blackwell Publishing. Chikuhwa, J.W. (2013). Zimbabwe: The end of the first Republic. Bloomington, IN: Author House. CIA Factbook, Zimbabwe. (2018). The World Factbook. Retrieved from www.cia.gov Compaine, B.M. (2001). The digital divide: Facing a crisis or creating a myth? London: MIT Press. Cullen, R. (2001). ‘Addressing the digital divide’. Online information review, 25(5), 311-320. de Bruijn, M. and Lalaye, D. (2016). ‘An Engaged Chadian Artist’s Digital Itinerary Towards Political and Civic Success: Pitfalls of Oppression’. In B. Mutsvairo (Ed.), Digital Activism in the Social Media Era (141-157). Cham: Springer. DiMaggio, P., Hargittai, E., Neuman, W.R., and Robinson, J.P. (2001). ‘Social implications of the Internet’. Annual review of sociology, 27(1), 307-336. Dwight, J.S. (2009). ‘Digital divide’. In E.F. Provenzo, and J.P. Renaud (Eds.), Encyclopedia of the social and cultural foundations of education (246-247). London: SAGE Publications. Edet Ani, O., Uchendu, C., and Atseye, E.U. (2007). ‘Bridging the digital divide in Nigeria: a study of internet use in Calabar Metropolis, Nigeria’. Library Management, 28(6/7), 355-365. Ekine, S. (Ed.) (2010). SMS uprising: Mobile activism in Africa. Oxford: Pambazuka Press. Fink, C. and Kenny, C.J. (2003). ‘W(h)ither the digital divide?’ Digital Policy, Regulation and Governance, 5(6), 15-24. Freedom on the Net, Zimbabwe. (2016). Retrieved 17 September 2017 from https:// freedomhouse.org/sites/default/files/FOTN_2016_Zimbabwe.pdf Galperin, H. (2010). ‘Goodbye digital divide, Hello digital confusion? A critical embrace of the emerging ICT4D consensus’. Information Technologies & International Development, 6(SE), 53-55. Garnham, N. (1979). ‘Contribution to a political economy of mass-communication’. Media, Culture & Society, 1(2), 123-146. Hargittai, E. (2003). ‘The digital divide and what to do about it’. New economy handbook, 2003, 821-839. Herald (2016). ‘Ecocash transacts $16bn in 4 years ECONET Wireless Zimbabwe’s mobile financial service platform ‒ Ecocash has transacted over $16 billion in the last four years’. The Herald. Retrieved 29 August 2016 from http://www. herald.co.zw/ecocash-transacts-16bn-in-4-years/

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Hilbert, M. (2011a). ‘The end justifies the definition: The manifold outlooks on the digital divide and their practical usefulness for policy-making’. Telecommunications Policy, 35(8), 715-736. Hilbert, M. (2011b, 8 December). Mapping the dimensions and characteristics of the world’s technological communication capacity during the period of digitization (1986-2007/2010). 9th World Telecommunication/ICT Indicators Meeting, International Telecommunication Union, December 2011. Retrieved 17 September 2017 from https://ssrn.com/abstract=2039491 Hilbert, M. (2014). ‘Technological information inequality as an incessantly moving target: The redistribution of information and communication capacities between 1986 and 2010’. Journal of the Association for Information Science and Technology, 65(4), 821-835. Hilbert, M. and López, P. (2012). ‘How to Measure the World’s Technological Capacity to Communicate, Store, and Compute Information Part I: Results and Scope’. International Journal of Communication (19328036), 6. Internet Usage and Population Statistics for Africa [Summary Dataset] (2017). Internet World Stats. Retrieved 17 September 2017 from http://www.­internetworldstats. com/africa.htm James, J. (2004). ‘Reconstruing the digital divide from the perspective of a large, poor, developing country’. Journal of Information Technology, 19(3), 172-177. Kabweza, L.S.M. (2017). ‘Zim Government’s ownership of Multichoice Zimbabwe and why it’s reluctant to license Kwese TV’. TechZim. ­R etrieved 10 December 2017 from https://www.techzim.co.zw/2017/08/multichoice​ -zimbabwe-partly-owned-zim-government/ Kim, M.C. and Kim, J.K. (2001). ‘Digital divide: Conceptual discussions and prospect’. Paper presented at the International Conference Human Society@ Internet. Berlin: Springer. Konyana, S. and Konyana, E. (2013). Computerisation of Rural Schools in Zimbabwe: Challenges and Opportunities for Sustainable Development (the case of Chipinge district). African Journal of Teacher Education, 3(2). doi:10.21083/ajote.v3i2.2156 Kunambura, A. (2017). ‘Mugabe explains functions of cyber security ministry’. Daily News. Retrieved 9 October 2017 from https://www.dailynews.co.zw/ articles/2017/10/11/mugabe-explains-functions-of-cyber-security-ministry Ling, R. (2004). The mobile connection: The cell phone’s impact on society. San Francisco: Morgan Kaufmann. Lister, M. (2009). New media: A critical introduction. New York: Taylor & Francis. Lu, M.T. (2001). ‘Digital divide in developing countries’. Journal of Global Information Technology Management, 4(3), 1-4. Manji, F. (2008). ‘Mobile activism or mobile hype’. Gender and Media Studies Diversity Journal, 4, 125-132.

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Mansell, R. (2004). ‘Political economy, power and new media’. New Media & Society, 6(1), 96-105. Maodza, T. (2017). UPDATED: Cabinet reshuffled,10 ministers reassigned new portfolios, eight new appointments, 3 dropped The Herald. Retrieved 9 October 2017 from http://www.herald.co.zw/breaking-president-mugabe-reshuffles-cabinet/ McChesney, R., Wood, E.M., and Foster, J.B. (1998). Capitalism and the information age. The Political Economy of the Global Communication Revolution. New York: Monthly Review Press. McChesney, R. W. (2000). ‘The political economy of communication and the future of the field’. Media, Culture & Society, 22(1), 109-116. McConnaughey, J.W., Lader, W., Chin, R., and Everette, D. (1998). ‘Falling through the Net II: New data on the digital divide’. National Telecommunications and Information Administration. Department of Commerce, US Government. Washington, DC. Mutsvairo, B. (2013a). ‘No technology but still participatory journalists: Viewpoints from Zimbabwe’s rural folks’. Ejournalist: a refereed media journal, 13(2),41-58. Mutsvairo, B. (2013b). Power and participatory politics in the digital age: probing the use of new media technologies in railroading political changes in Zimbabwe. Leiden University Institute for History, Faculty of Humanities, Leiden University, Mutula, S.M. (2008). ‘Digital divide and economic development: case study of sub-Saharan Africa’. The Electronic Library, 26(4), 468-489. National Telecommunications and Information Administration (DOC). (1995). Falling through the net: A survey of the ‘have nots’ in rural and urban America. Washington, DC: ERIC Clearinghouse. Nour, S.M. (2015). ‘Overview of Sudanese Economy and the Status of ICT in Sudan’. In Information and Communication Technology in Sudan (13-40). Cham: Springer. Odedra, M., Bennett, M., Goodman, S., and Lawrie, M. (1993). ‘Sub-Saharan Africa: a technological desert’. Communications of the ACM, 36(2), 25-29. Patel, C. (2014). ‘WorldRemit Collaborates with Zimbabwe’s Steward Bank to Extend Money Transfer Service. Let’s talk payments’. Retrieved 10 October 2017 from https://letstalkpayments.com/worldremit-collaborates-zimbabwes-stewardbank-extend-money-transfer-service/ POTRAZ. (2016). Postal and Telecommunications Sector Performance Report Fourth Quarter 2015. Retrieved 9 October 2017 from https://t3n9sm.c2.acecdn.net/wp-content/ uploads/2016/03/POTRAZ-Zimbabwe-Post-Telecoms-Sector-Report-Q4-2015.pdf POTRAZ. (2017). Postal and Telecommunications Sector Performance Report Fourth Quarter 2017. Retrieved 9 October 2017 from http://www.potraz.gov.zw/images/ documents/3rd_Quarter_2017.pdf

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Rubin, R. E. (2017). Foundations of library and information science: American Library Association. Schaefer, R.T. (2008). Encyclopedia of race, ethnicity, and society (Vol. 1). London: Sage. Stevenson, S. (2009). ‘Digital divide: A discursive move away from the real inequities’. The Information Society, 25(1), 1-22. Takavarasha Jr, S., and Masunungure, E.V. (2013). ´The Developmental Effect of a New Political Anomaly on the Oldest ICT: A Critique of the Banning of Short Wave Radios in Zimbabwe´. In Z. Mahmood (Ed.), IT in the Public Sphere: Applications in Administration, Government, Politics, and Planning (157-183). Hershey, PA: IGI Global. Takavarasha, S., and Makumbe, J. (2012). ‘The effect of politics on ICT4D: A case of Econet Wireless’s struggle for a license in Zimbabwe’. International Journal of E-Politics (IJEP), 3(3), 40-60. Tarugarira, G. (2015). ´Globalisation, NGOs and Multi-Sectoral Relations: The Zimbabwean Experience 1980-2012´. In E. Shizha and L. Diallo (Eds.), Africa in the Age of Globalisation: perceptions, misperceptions and realities. Brantford, Canada: Ashgate. Thomas, P.N. (2009). ´Digital divide´. In S. W. Littlejohn and K. A. Foss (Eds.), Encyclopedia of Communication Theory ( 310-312) Los Angeles: Sage. Vanham, P. (2013). ‘Africa’s digital divide: still gaping’. Financial Times. Retrieved 30 April 2013 from https://www.ft.com/content/fdf0d7d6-9ece-3062-ab31​ -ea0e33e152c0 Vannoy, S.A. and Palvia, P. (2010). ‘The Social Influence Model of Technology Adoption’. Communications of the ACM, 53(6), 149-153. Velamuri, S.R. (2003). Resisting Political Corruption: Econet Wireless Zimbabwe (Research Case Study). Veritas (2017). Zimbabwe National Budget Highlights. Retrieved 30 March 2018 from http://www.veritaszim.net/sites/veritas_d/files/2017%20Zimbabwe%20 National%20Budget%20Highlights.pdf Warschauer, M. (2003). ‘Dissecting the “digital divide”: A case study in Egypt’. The Information Society, 19(4), 297-304. Wasserman, H. (2011). ‘Mobile phones, popular media, and everyday African democracy: Transmissions and transgressions’. Popular Communication, 9(2), 146-158. Zimbabwe Internet Usage and Marketing Report (2017). Retrieved 8 March 2018 from http://www.internetworldstats.com/af/zw.htm Zimbabwe shortwave radios (2010). Retrieved 9 October 2017 from https://www. ifex.org/zimbabwe/2010/12/03/shortwave_radio/

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About the author Tenford Chitanana is a PhD candidate with the University of Technology Sydney. His research interests revolve around new media and activism within restrictive political environments. He has worked in community engagement, content production, and communication roles for civil society organizations and international non-profits in Zimbabwe, Netherlands, and Myanmar.

4. Technology and the Democratic Space in Africa A Re-Examination of the Notion of ‘Digital Divide’ Muhammed Musa

Abstract A view that technology and its emerging phenomena especially social media such as Twitter and Facebook is central to liberation and social change in Egypt and other Arab countries has permeated discourse on the role, nay, enabling capacity of such technology for human liberation. So entrenched is this perspective that lack of access to this technology is now deemed as disempowering. This chapter will argue among others that this technologically deterministic perspective is an embodiment of liberalist discourse and even though widespread obfuscates few facts. Information and Communication Technologies (ICTs) are products of the capitalist market structures that they have come to consolidate and enhance. Consequently, while they may increase participation and, by so doing, consolidate capital regeneration, they also exacerbate inequalities. The current neoliberal discourse of digital divide glosses over the institutional framework that gave birth to the technologies that have become so central to the so-called modern democratic mass movements in Africa. Yet, a critique of the institutional framework instrumental to those technologies is important for opening up alternative frontiers of liberation. Keywords: Neoliberal, ICTs, Africa, Social media, Bourdieu, Digital Divide

Mutsvairo, B., M. Ragnedda (eds), Mapping the Digital Divide in Africa. A Mediated Analysis, Amsterdam University Press, 2019. doi: 10.5117/9789462986855_ch04

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Introduction A mainstream narrative is gradually consolidating that social existence generally, from relationships to work and worship, culture and the arts, construction and investment, and democratic politics are all hinged around digital technology. The narrative goes further to imply that going forward in terms of progress and development for humanity depends on digital access. With statistics readily available from agencies such as International Telecommunication Union (ITU), United Nations Conference on Trade and Development (UNCTAD), and social networks, the notion of digital divide speaks to an emergent asymmetry in which Africa is in the margins of this ‘empowering technology’. A variant of this narrative is one also that hinges liberation of oppressed communities on the extent of their access and/or use of digital technologies. At an empirical level, the narrative points at revolutions in Tunisia and Egypt as enabled by digital development of social media. This chapter will contest such assumptions by positing that the notion of digital divide and social media revolution that are intertwined is problematic for few reasons. First, the notion of a ‘divide’ is a quantitative category that obfuscates negative qualitative imperatives. Moreover, experiences of the past in which quantitative categories were sold to Africa as explanation and panacea to problems of underdevelopment in the spheres of economics and information call for caution in embracing them. Secondly, ascribing sole liberative capacity to digital technologies is a neoliberal agenda that is also problematic in two ways: such a perspective denies human agency to popular grassroots movements in the face of visible human cost to the democratic changes in Tunisia and Egypt; it also obfuscates the role of communicative capitalism in undermining democracy in Africa. Moreover, we would also contend in this chapter that an uncritical propagation of bridging a ‘digital divide’ is an extension of a modernisation recipe handed to Africa from the early days of independence. The chapter will conclude that such technologically deterministic perspectives are an embodiment of liberalist discourse that fails to see communication technologies themselves as products of the capitalist market structures that they have come to consolidate and enhance, and, even though they may increase human participation, they generally, and in the final analysis, exacerbate inequalities.

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Technology and Underdevelopment in Africa: One of the legacies that the colonial social order fostered on Africa is the modernisation model in which development and underdevelopment are predicated on acquisition of Western technology, among others. When African countries acquire such technology as the prescription goes, they will industrialise. By industrialisation here is meant development of the productive forces, a process that would transform such societies from a state of underdevelopment to that of development (see Rostow, 1960). This, in our view, marks the beginning of the current fascination with the digital technology as necessity for transformation of society in Africa. In this case, underdevelopment is seen as an original state associated with ‘backward’ African societies. Shifting this level of underdevelopment will only happen by embracing technology. What emerges from the model, even at this stage, is that the entire conception of social transformation is tied to the need for industrialisation, advances in science and technology in a way that neglects the social relations of production. In other words, the fundamental issues of who, within Africa, has access to and control over the acquired communication infrastructure and their form, to what effect they are used, and their role in changing or maintaining the existing pattern of power relations remain blurred. Therefore, the idea behind prescription of the modernisation model to Africa is clearly to consolidate the incorporation of the continent into the orbit of the capitalist social order that was dominant in Europe and that started in the case of Africa, from the days of formal European colonisation (see Ake 1996; Onimode, 1985). The argument that could be advanced therefore is that the incorporation of Africa into the global capitalist framework replicates the kind of social order that exists in Europe, where there is development of the productive forces but without a corresponding development of the relations of production. As the period of their incorporation into the capitalist framework differs from one formation or country to another, so does the level of industrialisation and development of the productive forces. Even within one country in Africa it would be the case that there are highly developed classes in terms of access to technology and power on the one hand, and the mass of the people or peasantry that is underdeveloped, on the other. Lopsidedness in access to technology and paraphernalia of modernisation that dates back to the pre-independence and post-independence eras therefore operates at two levels. First, there is imbalance in the distribution of and access to technology between Africa and the West and, secondly, within Africa. This

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imbalance in turn laid the foundation of the imbalance in distribution and access to digital resources in the 21st century as we would come to point out in this chapter. The narrative of a digital divide as we will show, tends to be predicated on the imbalance between Africa and the West. A more fundamental question that the chapter will raise is whether addressing the technological imbalance will eliminate underdevelopment and usher in transformation of African societies or merely further the incorporation of the continent into the contemporary neoliberal orbit to the glory of global capitalism.

Of Digital Technology and Modernisation Theory In his attempt to frame what he saw as a comprehensive theory of development, American economist and political theorist W.W. Rostow came up with modernisation theory as a radical explanation of underdevelopment. His modernisation theory has cultural, political, and economic dimensions that different scholars chose to stress. Its cultural and economic views stress transitions and transformations that a society has to undergo for it to become modern and therefore attain development. Such assumptions as advanced by W.W. Rostow distinguishes between five universal stages that societies will have to pass through to be developed. The American and European trajectory sees societies such as those in Africa as attached to values and ideas of traditional society that are a hindrance and therefore not coterminous with development. What emerges from the Rostowian model is that underdevelopment is endogenous to societies such as those in Africa. The stages of growth advanced by Rostow, on the other hand, could actually be seen as the different phases of capitalist development from the era of the demise of feudalism through to the present monopoly era as they unfolded in Europe. In advancing a panacea for underdevelopment in Third World societies, the same historical phases that unfolded in Europe are simply extended to them and therefore for them to develop as the argument goes, they need to industrialise. Critiques of modernisation have dismissed its ahistoricity but also its non-structuralist view of development and underdevelopment. Critics such as Cardoso (1977), Frank (1966; 1971), Amin (1974), and others have instead drawn attention to problems of underdevelopment in the Third World as the outcome of complex patterns of relationships between them and the advanced societies, especially with the incorporation of the former into

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the orbit of capitalist modernity. Frank especially views it as an erroneous misconception to account for underdevelopment in the Third World on the account that it shared the same history as European societies. Yet, it is this faulted development model that was handed to most of the newly emergent nations of Africa. As Onimode observes: The ‘modernization’ orientation of bourgeois development theorizing, especially in the post-war era, also encouraged colonial governments to pursue industrialisation as an index of modernisation. […] This was particularly necessary since the objectives of colonial and post-colonial modernisation has been to make Third World societies like Western Europe and North America. (Onimode, B. 1985, 127)

Going forward along the lines of the modernisation model, both mass media and the digital technology and its network are therefore paraphernalia of modernisation that aspiring Third World societies must acquire to arrive at the desirable development threshold. In this regard, both modernisation and development are treated as two sides of the same coin, but also synonymous with Westernisation and that their occurance in all societies must be similar and only differentiated by time. Indeed, inherent in the assumption is that Third World societies are mere extensions of social structures exclusive to the advanced Western societies and, consequently, modernisation is propagated as a universal pattern of change. Since the propagation of this model, the United Nations and its various agencies such as UNESCO and ITU have made three attempts to address what is perceived as a shortcoming in pace or failure to acquire paraphernalia of modernisation that could bring the prescribed change (see Musa, 2010). It is not the focus of this chapter to revisit the modernisation theory and its numerous critiques such as dependency theory and radical political economy such as those put forth by Frank, Amin, and Ake. Instead, our aim is to draw a parallel between digital divide and modernisation discourse precisely because the former is couched in a vocabulary of asymmetry that Third World countries are asked to address in order to attain social change. Digital divide speaks to a schism or gap in acquisition, access, and use of digital technology just as modernisation theory prescribed acquisition of technology as the pathway to capitalist modernity and the panacea for underdevelopment. To the extent that the hardware and software of digital technology and its networks are produced in the West, an invitation to their wholesale acquisition and use is not only going to export the social relations of their production but also exacerbate Africa’s dependence on

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the West. In other words, an uncritical acquisition and implementation of digital structure is only more likely to reproduce patterns of capitalist development seen in Europe and North America as well as increasing Africa’s dependence on the source of the digital infrastructure. While this chapter is not oblivious of the futility of autarky in the contemporary era, a wholesale unquestioning commitment to confronting digital divide is also not the solution to Africa’s development crisis. Digital technology is a product of capitalist modernity. An attempt to redress the divide between Africa and the world is akin to adomestication in the continent of the social structure that characterises that modernity. Moreover, capitalist modernity has always been predicated on unequal development and the incorporation of Africa into the orbit of that modernity from the time of colonialism to the present can only exacerbate inequalities. Indeed, the propagation of the acquisition of digital technology speaks to the very project of capitalist modernity for which digitisation of the world would serve as a facilitator of wiring the world into the global market economy whose policy- and decision-making processes are determined by Western governments and multilateral organisations, especially the World Trade Organisation (WTO) and International Finance Institutions (IFI) under their influence (Khor, 2002). Whereas developing countries of Africa and other parts of the world are genuinely concerned with inequalities and lopsided developments that have become a main feature of their destiny in the global political economy, the dominant discourse of digital divide addresses the subject in relation to market considerations. For this reason, Ya´u describes the nexus between globalisation and ICTs as the ‘new imperialism (Ya’u, 2005). In his argument about ICTs and Africa, Ya’u observes that, more than anything, they facilitate access to markets for Western corporations, treat Africa and developing countries as consumers rather than producers of ICT, and do not address the divide in relation to other more structural issues of underdevelopment such illiteracy, hunger, and unemployment. Moreover, Ya’u has concluded that: Bridging the digital divide rather than universalizing access to ICTs implies that there is only one possible development trajectory, which is to retrace the steps taken by the industrialised countries.(Ya’u, 2005, 118)

Like Ya’u , Fuchs and Horak (2008) also see the instrumentation and policy governance of ICTs as ‘an expression of the unequal geography of global capitalism’, which can undermine both democratic space and participation. (Fuchs and Horak, 2008).

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Of ICTs and the fallacy of quantitative category Most discussions about information society in which Africa is marginalised provide empirical evidence to support the marginalisation thesis. From computer per capita to internet access, broadband penetration and social media use etc in the continent all point to how poorly or lowly African countries are placed relative to other regions of the world. At a time when governance in Western countries is moving on-line and giving rise to the notion of E-governance attention is yet again drawn in statistical terms about how poorly placed governments of African countries are. Ya’u further observes that; It is not only the citizens that are unable to use ICTs in Africa. Even the governments are not using ICTs as other regions of the world- Africa accounts for almost zero percent of global ICT productions and its consumption is equally low. In terms of per capita spending in ICTs, the region also ranked last. (2005, 105-106)

While we do not question the statistical evidence, we argue that making them a basis for the clamour to bridge the gap is problematic in two ways. First, it conveys the acceptance of a prescription that whatever development path adopted or initiated in Western countries must be the ideal model or path for Africa and, therefore, the continent must ‘catch up’ to bridge the gap. This treats Africa as an extension of the West rather than as a continent and people with their own history, values, concerns, and aspirations (see Moyo, 2017). Secondly, the new euphemism in the export of capitalist modernity called globalisation has placed emphasis on capital investment rather than on citizens. Because of this, states are now taking a backseat in the provision of social services and that role is now taken over by corporations backed by multilateral organisations, especially the World Trade Organisation (WTO). The latter propagates investment in digital connectivity for all countries in relation to improving access to markets for multinational corporations rather than for citizens´ welfare. The effect of this is to remove ICTs from the domain of social provisioning and transfer it to the market arena. By making the market the dominant driver of the sector, the choice is very clear: investors will only invest to the extent that they would be assured of profits. This means that national disparities and unequal access to ICTs would not be eliminated. Rather, they could be accentuated by the inability of the poor to afford the cost of access in the absence of government subsidies. (Ya’u, 2005, 108)

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Table 4.1 Internet Users Statistics for Africa (Africa Internet Usage, 2017 Population Stats and Facebook Subscribers) AFRICA 2017 POPULATION AND INTERNET USERS STATISTICS FOR 2017 AFRICA

Algeria Angola Benin Botswana Burkina Faso Burundi Cabo Verde Cameroon Central African Rep. Chad Comoros Congo Congo, Dem. Rep. Cote d’Ivoire Djibouti Egypt Equatorial Guinea Eritrea Ethiopia Gabon Gambia Ghana Guinea Guinea-Bissau Kenya Lesotho Liberia Libya Madagascar Malawi Mali Mauritania Mauritius Mayotte (FR)

Population (2017 Est.)

Internet Internet Internet Penetration Growth % Users Users (% Popu­ 2000 – 2017 lation) 31-Dec-2000 30-June-2017

Facebook subscribers 30-Jun-2017

41,063,753 26,655,513 11,458,611 2,343,981 19,173,322 11,936,481 533,468 24,513,689 5,098,826

50,000 30,000 15,000 15,000 10,000 3,000 8,000 20,000 1,500

18,580,000 5,951,453 1,375,033 923,528 2,684,265 617,116 256,972 6,128,422 246,432

14,965,482 825,920 4,866,243 82,242,685

1,000 1,500 500 500

748,274 65,578 400,000 5,107,271

23,815,886 911,382 95,215,102 894,464

40,000 1,400 450,000 500

6,318,355 180,000 37,333,841 212,704

26.5 % 19.8 % 39.2 % 23.8 %

15,695.9 % 12,757.1 % 8,196.4 % 42,440.8 %

2,400,000 180,000 33,000,000 67,000

5,481,906 104,344,901 1,801,232 2,120,418 28,656,723 13,290,659 1,932,871 48,466,928

5,000 10,000 15,000 4,000 30,000 8,000 1,500 200,000

71,000 16,037,811 865,492 392,277 9,935,286 1,302,485 84,000 43,329,434

1.3 % 15.4 % 48.1 % 18.5 % 34.7 % 9.8 % 4.3 % 89.4 %

1,320.0 % 160,278.1 % 5,669.9 % 9,706.9 % 33,017.6 % 16,181.1 % 5,500.0 % 21,564.7 %

63,000 4,500,000 470,000 220,000 4,000,000 950,000 84,000 6,200,000

2,185,159 4,730,437 6,408,742 25,612,972 18,298,679 18,689,966 4,266,448 1,281,353 253,068

4,000 500 10,000 30,000 15,000 18,800 5,000 87,000 n/a

597,860 395,063 2,800,000 1,300,000 1,758,503 2,212,450 770,000 803,896 107,940

27.4 % 8.4 % 43.7 % 5.1 % 9.6 % 11.8 % 18.0 % 62.7 % 42.7 %

14,846.5 % 78,912.6 % 27,900.0 % 4,233.3 % 11,623.4 % 11,668.4 % 15,300.0 % 824.0 % n/a

290,000 330,000 2,800,000 1,300,000 720,000 1,000,000 770,000 630,000 56,000

45.2 % 22.3 % 12.0 % 39.4 % 14.0 % 5.2 % 48.2 % 25.0 % 4.8 %

37,060.0 % 19,738.2 % 9,066.9 % 6,056.9 % 26,742.7 % 20,470.5 % 3,112.2 % 24,445.9 % 16,328.8 %

18,000,000 3,800,000 800,000 690,000 600,000 450,000 210,000 2,100,000 66,000

5.0 % 74,727.4 % 7.9% 4,271.9 % 8.2 % 79,900.0 % 6.2 % 1,021,354.2 %

170,000 60,000 400,000 2,100,000

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AFRICA 2017 POPULATION AND INTERNET USERS STATISTICS FOR 2017 AFRICA

Morocco Mozambique Namibia Niger Nigeria Reunion (FR) Rwanda Saint Helena (UK) Sao Tome & Principe Senegal Seychelles Sierra Leone Somalia South Africa South Sudan Sudan Swaziland Tanzania Togo Tunisia Uganda Western Sahara Zambia Zimbabwe

Population (2017 Est.)

Internet Internet Internet Penetration Growth % Users Users (% Popu­ 2000 – 2017 lation) 31-Dec-2000 30-June-2017

Facebook subscribers 30-Jun-2017

35,241,418 29,537,914 2,568,569 21,563,607 191,835,936 873,356 12,159,586 3,970

100,000 30,000 30,000 5,000 200,000 130,000 5,000 n/a

20,535,174 5,169,135 797,027 931,548 91,598,757 390,000 3,724,678 2,000

58.3 % 17.5 % 31.0 % 4.3 % 47.7 % 44.7 % 30.6 % 50.4 %

20,435.2 % 17,130.5 % 2,556.8 % 18,531.0 % 45,699.4 % 200.0 % 74,393.6 % n/a

12,000,000 1,400,000 520,000 280,000 16,000,000 390,000 490,000 2,000

198,481

6,500

55,575

28.0 %

755.0 %

38,000

16,054,275 97,539 6,732,899 11,391,962

40,000 6,000 5,000 200

4,119,527 55,119 792,462 900,000

25.7 % 56.5 % 11.8 % 7.9 %

10,198.8 % 818.7 % 15,749.2 % 449,900.0 %

2,300,000 48,000 310,000 900,000

55,436,360 13,096,190 42,166,323 1,320,356 56,877,529 7,691,915 11,494,760 41,652,938 596,021 17,237,931 16,337,760

2,400,000 n/a 30,000 10,000 115,000 100,000 100,000 40,000 n/a 20,000 50,000

29,935,634 2,179,963 11,806,570 436,051 7,394,079 869,956 5,848,534 19,000,000 27,000 5,192,284 6,722,677

54.0 % 16.6 % 28.0 % 33.0 % 13.0 % 13.0 % 50.9 % 45.6 % 4.5 % 30.1 % 41.1 %

1,147.3 % n/a 39,255.2 % 4,260.5 % 6,329.6 % 770.0 % 5,748.5 % 32,457.8 % n/a 25,861.4 % 13,345.4 %

16,000,000 180,000 3,000,000 160,000 6,100,000 340,000 5,800,000 2,200,000 23,000 1,400,000 850,000

8,503.1 % 90.0 %

160,207,000 1,819,496,530

TOTAL AFRICA Rest of World

1,246,504,865 6,272,524,105

4,514,400 388,376,491 83.4 % 3,497,191,128

31.2 % 55.8 %

WORLD TOTAL

7,519,028,970

100.0 % 3,885,567,619

51.7 %

100.0 % 1,979,703,530

NOTES: (1) Africa Internet Statistics were updated in June 30, 2017. (2) Africa Facebook subscribers are in June 30, 2017. (3) CLICK on each country name for further data on individual countries and regions. (4) Africa Population numbers are mid-year 2017 estimates, based on data from the United Nations Population Division. (5) For definitions, navigation help and methodology, see the site surfing guide. (6) Africa Internet usage information comes from, among others, data published by WWW, ITU , Facebook, and other trustworthy sources. (7) For Internet growth comparison purposes, baseline Internet usage data for the year 2000 is also displayed. (8) Data from this table may be cited, giving the due credit and establishing a link back to internetworldstats.com Copyright 2017, © Miniwatts Marketing Group. All rights reserved worldwide. Source: Internet World Stats 2017.

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Digital Africa: Connection and Disconnection The Information and Communication Technology Index (IDI) has shown remarkable improvement around the world, thus confirming the increasing integration and centrality of ICTs in everyday life. Findings from the 2015 Measuring the Information Society Report (MIS) by the International Telecommunication Union (ITU) shows that all 167 economies have recorded an improvement in their IDI values between 2010 and 2015. In relation to Africa, however, the report indicates that the continent is not seeing enough growth to reduce its relative disadvantage that will lower the divide between it and other regions of the world. Indeed, the report summarised Africa’s digital state thus: If you’re an African man living in an urban area of an African country with a coastline, your chances of accessing the internet and benefitting from it, are considerably higher than anyone else’s. (Spooner, 2016)

We will come back to this observation later. Generally speaking, for us to have a context for problematizing the notion of a ‘digital divide’ in Africa, this chapter will look at the state of digital connection in Africa from two perspectives: general Internet connectivity and social media usage.

Internet Connectivity in Africa While there is a global upsurge in web traffic, it is reported that more than half of the world’s web traffic comes from mobile phones. This especially makes sense in the case of Africa for two reasons. First, the cost of a computer (whether desktop or laptop) is still beyond the affordable limits of the average person and, second, electricity does not reach rural areas where a large part of the population resides. Moreover, the lower cost of Internet-capable mobile phones provides the most practical means of connecting to the Internet for most people. Whereas more than half of the world’s population now uses the Internet, fewer than one in three people across Africa have access to the Internet today. Current growth trends suggest that we will be well into the 2020s before we see Internet penetration levels across the continent pass the 50% mark (Kemp, 2017). With global Internet user numbers up by more than 80% in the past 5 years, some countries such as UAE, Norway, and Iceland are approaching

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100% penetration rates at a time when the lowest penetration is still in Africa. Since penetration is lowest in Africa, understandably time spent on the net is also lowest in the continent compared to all other regions of the world. Cost of devices and cost of broadband still remain higher in Africa than in other regions and therefore add to the lower accessibility rate in the continent. Data from Africa showed that only ten countries in the region have mobile-cellular prices that are at least as affordable as the average in other regions. The top ten countries with the most affordable mobile-cellular prices in Africa include the economies with the highest per capita in the region. (Spooner, 2016, 4)

Compared to all other regions of the world, the mobile broadband services are the most expensive in Africa. ‘Indeed, the average corresponds to more than 15% of the income per capita for hand-set based mobile broadband, and about 30% for computer-based mobile broadband’ (Spooner, 2006, 4). A noticeable feature of the lower Internet penetration in Africa is the corresponding lower rate of online shopping compared to other regions of the world.

Social Media Use A number of the discussions about the role of digital media and social change in emerging democracies tend to focus on social media (see Lawrence, 2016; Milady, 2016; Velasquez, and LaRose, 2015; Robertson, 2015; Hussain and Howard, 2013; Amen and Jayroe, 2013; and Byran et al., 2013). The notion of the ‘Twitter revolution’ or the ‘social media revolution’ speaks to the narrative on social media and social change. Around the world, social media use witnessed an upsurge by more than 20% in 2016. Facebook is reported to post the most impressive increases even as it remains the world’s leading social platform for the past decade. With about three billion people using social media at least once a month, most of those do so via mobile devices. The largest usage growth is incidentally recorded in the most densely populated countries–China, India, Indonesia, USA, and Brazil (Kemp, 2017). Again, Africa, together with Central and South Asia, record ‘the lowest levels of social media penetration’.

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Table 4.2  Key indicators

Table 4.3  Social Media Penetration Rankings

At the other end of the scale, nearly two-thirds of North Americans use social media each month, and social media penetration in South America is rapidly approaching 60%. Current trends suggest that South East Asia will pass 50% social media penetration mark later this year […] (Kemp, 2017)

Among the world´s 10 bottom countries in social media penetration, six are African countries: Eritrea, South Sudan, Chad, Central African Republic, Niger, and DR Congo. As can be expected, a preponderant percentage of social media users in those countries do that through mobile devices.

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Table 4.4  Mobile Social Media Penetration

In total, 10 countries have mobile social media penetration rates in excess of 70%, but 43 countries have penetration rates of less than 10%, the majority of which are in Africa.

While countries such as Qatar, UAE, and South Korea are recording penetration rate of 83-95%, African countries such as Eritrea, South Sudan, and Central African Republic have penetration rate of 1%. (See Table 4.3 below). While data indicate that around US$2 trillion was spent by e-commerce shoppers in 2016, Africa has the lowest rate of transactions. The majority of e-commerce in Africa are B2B and among elite populations in urban areas. A number of factors combine to make Africa the lowest in terms of e-commerce penetration. While the most obvious is the low Internet penetration relative to other regions of the world, other very serious inhibitions include the lack of efficient postal services and low credit card penetration as well as cultural factors. For example, physical markets have remained popular social hubs in many countries, where rural dwellers attend such market assemblies not necessarily to buy or sell but to meet friends and build solidarity and network.

Digital Connection and the Democratic Space in Africa The picture that has emerged so far is one of quantitative measure that assumes or conveys a qualitative correlation. In other words, both Internet and social media penetration are assumed to improve performance and quality

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in production, governance, participation, and capital regeneration through e-commerce. The discussion and data also privileges comparison between Africa and other regions of the world where Africa constantly lags behind. The concern about missing out on the prospects that come with digital access and distribution led to the World Summit on Information Society (WSIS) in Geneva in 2003 as an initiative by the United Nations to discuss and redress an impending digital divide. In what follows we will attempt to do three things. First, we will explore capital as a factor that informs the marginalisation of Africa in the digital race. In doing this, we will borrow from Pierre Bourdieu (1986), who differentiated between three forms of capital ‒ financial, cultural, and social. Second, we will interrogate the dominant view that digital technology is liberative. In doing this, we will highlight digital technology as the product of capitalist instrumentation. Digital technology has come to enhance and consolidate the social order of capitalism so that, while it has the capacity to increase participation and activism in the democratic space, it also creates and exacerbates inequalities. Third, we will further interrogate the notion of digital divide as an extension of neoliberalist discourse that obfuscates power relations in the nexus between technology and social change in Africa. It does not require huge investment to be a member of a ward or community in Africa because one is recognised as a member by virtue of having lived there, by living there, or by being involved in the cultural practices of those communities. On the other hand, certain participations and practices such as media consumption and digital participation are dependent on endowments and investments, which is why not everyone is able to participate equally. The inequality in such consumption practices and/or participation is structured by what Bourdieu (1986) has described as ‘the unequal distribution of cultural capital’. Cultural capital in this regard refers to the knowledge and competencies one requires not only to appreciate cultural products but also to partake in their practices. In classical Marxism, capital is purely an economic category. Like Ardono, Bordieu also extends the concept of capital to include the cultural. While economic capital is still central to social power and privileges in a class society, Bordieu has drawn attention to the importance of cultural dimension of capital that results from economic differentials in society. Yet, the reality about access to computers and their use as cultural practice is predicated on inequality because the majority do not have the economic wherewithal to have computers or do not have the wherewithal to pay for regular broadband access (see Fuchs and Horak, 2008; Ya’u, 2004). The tables presented in this chapter reveal that digital participation is lowest in Africa relative to other continents of the world. The little participation that is said to show improvement ‒ albeit

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slowly ‒ is through mobile telephones that cost less than computers and do not require electricity to operate. Moreover, unlike in desktop or laptop computers, one can pay for a limited hourly broadband access through the mobile telephone, thus making it more realistic to the majority. Yet, even mobile telephones require literacy and keyboard competencies that are also differentially distributed in Africa. Thus, the discourse of digital divide needs to be refocused by looking at the stratified distribution of capital resources between Africa and other parts of the world, as well as within Africa. At the first WSIS held in Geneva in 2003, participants included state and government representatives, multilateral organisations such as the World Bank, multinational corporations (MNCs), and civil society groups. Three key issues came to light at this first summit. First, the realisation of the increasing importance of information and communication in modern society. Secondly, the unfolding imbalance in distribution and access to the modern infrastructure of information; i.e., Internet. Thirdly, the social problems accompanying the emerging imbalance (see Padovani, 2004). Given the composition of participants in WSIS 2003, state representatives, multilateral organisations, and MNCs became dominant actors that defined the direction of discourse on these topics. From the very skewed composition of WSIS participation, the direction of discourse avoided fundamental questions that would lead to democratic access and use of ICTs. Instead, WSIS took off without interrogating the military-industrial complex instrumentation that produced digital technology. Its starting point was taken for granted as the technological invention central and essential in interaction between and among people as citizens, as workers, and as consumers so that imbalance in its distribution and access would compound the underdevelopment of society. We argue in this chapter that innovations in digital technology are central to the organisation of life. Going by the amount of time people immerse themselves in it, and the ubiquitous and addictive social networks it has created for young people, life without Internet is almost unthinkable. […] in 1995 the Internet had 10 million users, still disproportionately at US universities, and it was all the rage. […] By 2020 another 3 billion people will be on line. In Africa, mobile telephone penetration has gone from 2 percent in 2000 to 28 percent in 2009 to an expected 70 percent in 2013. ‘Mobile communication’, a 2012 World Bank report stated, ‘has arguably had a bigger impact on humankind in a shorter period than any other invention in human history.’ (McChesney, 2013, 2)

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While we are not oblivious of these realities brought about by the digital revolution, we want to contend that discussions about the possibilities and realities they usher seem de-historicised as institutional matters and questions of structure are left out. Yet, this is very important if we are not to repeat previous mistakes in assessing and consequently realising the full potentials of technology. Dominant contemporary discourse about the potential of the digital revolution handed to Africa is not different from the modernisation model that was handed to the continent as the panacea to its underdevelopment state in the 20th century. As Curran observes: Leading experts, politicians, public officials, business leaders and journalists predicted that the Internet would transform the world. The Internet would revolutionise, we were told, the organisation of business, and lead to a surge of prosperity. It would inaugurate a new era of cultural democracy in which the sovereign users-later dubbed ‘prosumers’-would call the shots, and old media leviathans would decay and die. It would rejuvenate democracy-in some versions by enabling direct e-government through popular referenda. All over the world, the weak and marginal would be empowered, leading to the fall of autocrats and the re-ordering of power relations. (Curran cited in McChesney, 2013, 5)

This is the euphoria and expectation with which the digital revolution was recommended to Africa, a continent whose democratic space at the time of the revolution was largely dominated by sit-tight dictators. In all regions of Africa, such dictators prevailed at the time. They controlled the public sphere and dominated both the agenda and direction of discourse. Now, suddenly a revolution has come that can turn things for the better whereby, Publicness is a sign of our empowerment at their expense. Dictators and politicians, media moguls and marketers try to tell us what to think and say. But now, in a truly public society, they must listen to what we say, whether we’re using Twitter to complain about a product or Facebook to organise a protest. If they are to prosper, these institutions must learn to deal with us at eye-level, with respect for us as individuals, and for the power we can wield as groups- as publics. (Jarvis, 2011, 76)

The positive anticipation above seems unaware of how the state can and does use ICTs to undermine the civil liberties of citizens. What clearly emerges from such fascination with technology is a self-indulegent

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liberative capacity that robs the technology of the institutional context that gave birth to it. Such fascination has been the starting point in the approach to digital revolution or the failure to take part in it. It is an approach that takes what matters most ‒ ie, capitalism,-for granted and, instead, technology is elevated to rise ‘roughshod over history’(Mejias, 2002). Consequently, the continent of Africa is conscripted into the orbit of a worldview on liberation technology that can be harnessed to transform society in the very direction of capitalist or Western democracy that is ‘espoused by the institutions in question’(Mejias, ibid). Our position in this chapter is that this perspective is either silent about or oblivious to the fact that communicative capitalism and capitalist technology, while increasing participation also exacerbates inequalities and thereby undermines the democratic space. That these technologies can in fact aid in the defence of human rights, improve governance, empower the poor etc, is not the point. The point is that while presenting the technologies as the agents of liberation, a critique of the capitalist institutions and superstructures in which these technologies operate is obscured. (Mejias, 2002, 2)

To understand the historical context in which the so-called digital revolution occurred, the nexus between capitalism and democracy is necessary if we are to overcome the current superficial romanticisation of technological revolutions in relation to democratic space in Africa. For example, as McChesney comments: The ways capitalism works and does not work determine the role the Internet might play in society. The profit motive, commercialism, public relations, marketing and advertising-all defining features of contemporary corporate capitalism-are foundational to any assessment of how the Internet has developed and is likely to develop. (2012, 13)

To attempt to embrace and celebrate democracy devoid of an insight into its relationship with capitalism, and to euologise the digital revolution for its capacity to be the driving force of this democracy is to fall into a trap that, in the final analysis, consolidates the unequal power relations in society. For any democracy that is premised on inequality between and among participants, an inequality that is generated by the economy is anything but democracy. It is a governance system in which citizens have no influence over the people that represent them. President Donald Trump recently chose

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to remind the world whose interests that kind of democracy serves when he unequivocally stated, while addressing working class voters in Iowa, ‘I just don’t want a poor person in leadership positions’ (Russell, 2017). The democratic experimentation in Africa may have seen improved voter turnout in many countries such as Nigeria, Kenya, and South Africa as citizens are mobilised through social media, yet accountability and social change have remained illusive in many countries. While we acknowledge that digital technology can expand networks and can mobilise citizens to participate in the democratic space, this does not equate to the dismantling of existing power relations; rather, it exacerbates them. Digital technology also further disadvantages the already underdeveloped classes through inclusion rather than exclusion. This is precisely what the Dependista school of Andre Gunder Frank pointed to in the 1960s and 1970s that ‘underdevelopment and exploitation happen not through exclusion from the economic system of capitalism but as a consequence of being included in them’. (Frank, 1971) While a taken-for-granted impression of liberation technology or of Twitter Revolution is bandied around to describe the primacy of technology over human agency, in the activism in both Egypt and Tunisia, we need only to be reminded of the central authorities in those countries who found it easy to monitor and repress many of the activists. While activist mobilisation can happen through online networks or social media platforms, it also makes it easier for the state and its agencies to undertake surveillance that undermines the privacy of its citizens. The mobile smart devices that citizens carry around as aid to activism and mobilisation are actually used as tracking devices that could point locations of such activists that need to be dispersed by the state (McCullagh and Broache, 2006). Faced with a choice between standing on the side of citizens or government, Vodafone stood by the latter as they momentarily disabled Internet access in Egypt during the revolution of 25 January 2011 (Shenker, 2011).

What Light at the End of whose Tunnel? If both usage and spread of ICT and its infrastructure are advancing in the African continent, then it would be argued that, indeed, there is some form of light at the end of the tunnel. For, according to World Bank Group, the increasing use of mobile telephony in a continent where two thirds of the adult population has a mobile telephone that it uses in marketing, sending

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out money, sharing information, as well as checking health information, and socialising, for example, made the demand in Africa bigger than that of the US and EU. In Egypt, given the obvious limitations faced by broadcast media and the press, it is observed that NGOs and pressure groups have relied on the use of the Internet as the most effective medium to promote government accountability and monitor its activities (Ayyad, 2009). For instance, Ayyad has further observed that hundreds of thousands of Egyptians were mobilised to take part in a strike to draw the government’s attention to escalating food prices. This mobilisation in such a short time was coordinated by the youths through Facebook (Ayyad, 2009). Similarly, in his assessment of the challenges of e-government in both South Africa and Nigeria, Mudhai (2009), acknowledges that, given the expanding cell phone subscribers and users in these two countries, the technology can be an important basis for citizens inclusion and participation in a way that indicates useful pathways to the rest of Africa.

Opening the Democratic Space through Digital Access One of the normative roles ascribed to modern media in a liberal democracy is that of guaranteeing citizenship. Such a role could be fulfilled when the media provide quality information that citizens need to make informed decisions on governance (see Murdock and Golding 1977). Yet, the actualisation of this depends on equal access to the media by all citizens. Ironically, access to conventional media is known to be skewed due to many factors, including, especially, their ownership and professional orientation, which shows that the media provides more access and voice to power rather than those at its margins, according to an internalised criteria of hierarchy of credibility. Yet, it is such media that are also vested with a watchdog responsibility that would make those in power accountable. The implication of this is that, ‘For about three decades in postcolonial Africa, media’s ‒ especially broadcast ‒ coverage of news was characterised by the activities and words of the “big man”‘ (Ottosen and Mudhai, 2009: 239). Served by a media system that is a conduit for ‘activities’ and the words of the ‘big man’, is an indication of the exclusion of majority citizens and therefore a narrowing of the democratic space. When the media reproduces rather than questions activities and voices of big men, the watchdog function is undermined and citizens are also denied the quality information they require to make informed decision about governance.

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Thus, the arrival of the Internet and ICTs enabled public access to information to move away from what Ottosen and Mudhai called ‘centralized docket or diary’. Through these and other independent sources, the Internet dilutes ‘the potency of governments’ ‘official news’, which is most effective when it faces minimal competition. The voices of the web are obstacles to the flow of propaganda because they provide so many information options. Web based information sometimes provides an alternative to conventional wisdom, and it may enhance citizens’’ ability to do more-to participate in political action. (Sieb, 2004, quoted in Ottosen and Mudhai, 2009, 244)

One of the most important political events in any country is public election, which hands legitimacy to people in power. In Nigeria, for instance, in earlier elections such as those in 1979, before the advent of ICTs, citizens´ interest and participation in elections were lower than today, according to the interviewed Nigerian electoral officials. Whereas 35.2% of registered voters participated in the 1979 elections, the percentage of voter turnout in 2011 and 2015 was 53% and 43% (see Mahmud 2015). While there are several factors that could affect voter turnout in elections, feeling of a lack of inclusion or non-belonging is often cited as a factor (see Blais, 2006; Birch, 2010; Simpser, 2012; Green et al., 2013). The rise of ICTs and especially social media has altered the democratic space in Nigeria in a few ways. For instance, citizens now do not have to rely on the mainstream media, which often echoes the views of the powerful. Through Internet sources as well as social media, citizens can form social networks, engage in discussions about the political process and governance, and mobilise one another to participate in the election. In a country where past elections in the 1970s where characterised by allegations of rigging and corrupt practices, citizens in Nigeria used their social networks and mobile phones both for crowd-sourcing and vote-monitoring during the 2015 elections, which brought in the current government of Muhammadu Buhari (see Smythe, 2013). Borrowing from Jürgen Habermas’s theory of the Public Sphere, Benkler (2006, 177) proposes that the two main functions of the networked public sphere are ‘to offer a platform for engaged citizens to cooperate and provide observations and opinions and to serve as a watchdog over society on a peer productions model’. The expansion of ICT distribution in Nigeria, especially the mobile phone, has expanded deliberations and watchdog functions among citizens who are located in different parts of the country and in the

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diaspora but united by a common cause. Through these social networks, discussions take place that could enhance quality of information required by citizens in making informed decisions about elections and governance in Nigeria.

Conclusion Both modernisation and digital revolution have one thing in common: they are models that deny human agency as drivers of social change and emphasise the centrality of technology. In spite of human cost, as was seen in the upheavals or revolutions in Egypt and Tunisia, a neoliberal narrative is bandied around to paint these processes as digital revolution or Twitter-inspired revolution. Consequently, African societies are constantly reminded of the need to embrace technology and to hop on the revolution bandwagon as a way to usher in democratic social change. Both ITU and UNCTAD present data that decry low penetration rates of ICTs and social media in Africa in relation to other regions of the world and the damage that such digital divide portend for democratic politics in the continent. While acknowledging the role of such digital technology in expanding the democratic space, we especially argue that, as products of capitalist instrumentation, digital technology consolidates power relations in Africa by opening up channels of inequalities that leaves power, control, and surveillance in the grip of the state and its repressive agencies. Moreover, due to the involvement of multilateral organisations such as WTO in policy and governance issues on ICTs, the propagation of bridging the digital divide is more for the purpose of creating and improving efficiency for business activities rather than for social change. For ICTs to be vehicles of social change, closer attention needs to be given to their use in the formation of social networks and an enlarged discursive space as this will enable citizens to be real watchdogs over how society is governed.

Bibliography Ake, C. (1996). Democracy and Development in Africa. Washington, D.C.: Brookings Institution Press Aman, M. and Jayroe, T. (2013). ‘ICT, social media and the Arab transition to Democracy: From Venting to Acting’. DOMES, 22(2), 317-347. Amin, S. (1974). Accumulation on a World Wide Scale. New York: Monthly Review.

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Ayyad, K. (2009). ‘Use of the Internet by NGOs to Promote Government Accountability: The Case of Egypt’. In O.K. Mudhai et al. (Eds.), African Media and the Digital Public Sphere (89-103). New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Benkler, Y. (2006). The Wealth of Networks. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Birch, S. (2010). ‘Perceptions of electoral fairness and voter turnout’. Comparative Political Studies, 43(12), 1601-1622. Blais, A. (2006). ‘What affects voter turnout?’. Annual Review of Political Science, 9, 111-125. Bourdieu, P. (1986). Distinction: A social critique of the Judgement of taste. London: Routledge. Brym, R. et al. (2014). ‘Social media in the 2011 Egyptian uprising’. The British Journal of Sociology, 65(2), 266-292. Cardoso, F.H. (1977). ‘The Consumption of Dependency Theory in the United States’. Latin American Review, 12(3), 7-24. Frank, A.G. (1966). ‘The development of underdevelopment’. Monthly Review, 18(4). Frank, A.G. (1971). Sociology of Development and Underdevelopment of Sociology. London: Pluto Press. Fuchs, C. and Horak, E. (2008). ‘Africa and the digital divide.’ Telematics and Informatics, 25 (2), 99-116. Green, D.P., McGrath, M.C., and Aronow, P.M. (2013). ‘Field experiments and the study of voter turnout’. Journal of Elections, Public Opinion & Parties, 23(1), 27-48. Hussain, M.M. and Howard, P.N. (2013). ‘What best explains protest cascades? ICTs and the fuzzy causes of the Arab Spring. International Studies Review, 15(1), 48-66. Jarvis, J. (2011). Public Parts: How sharing in the Digital age improves the way we work and live. New York: Simon & Schuster. Kemp, S. (2017, 24 January). ‘Digital in 2017: Global Overview’. We Are Social. Retrieved 28 June 2017 from https://wearesocial.com/special-reports/digitalin-2017-global-overview Khor, M. (2002, 26 September). ‘WTO: The new threats to developing Countries and sustainability.’ In Motion Magazine. Retrieved 25 June 2017 from http://www. inmotionmagazine.com/global/mkhor1.html Lowrance, S. (2016). ‘Was the revolution tweeted? Social Media and the Jasmine revolution in Tunisia’. DOME, 25(1), 155-176. McChesney, R.W. (2013). Digital Disconnect: How capitalism is Turning the Internet against Democracy. New York: The New Press. McCullagh, D. and Broache A. (2006, 4 December). ‘FBI taps cell phone mic as Eavesdropping tool’. Cnet News. Retrieved 25 June 2017 from https://www.cnet. com/news/fbi-taps-cell-phone-mic-as-eavesdropping-tool/ Mejias, U.A. (2012). ‘FCJ-147 Liberation Technology and the Arab Spring: From Utopia to Atopia and Beyond’. The Fibreculture Journal, 20.

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Miladi, N. (2016). ‘Social media and social change’. Digest of Middle East Studies, 25(1), 36-51. Moyo, L. (2017). ‘Rethinking the information society: A Decolonial and border gnosis of the Digital divide in Africa and the global South’. In R. Massimo and G. Muschert (Eds.), Theorising Digital Divides (133-145). New York: Routledge. Mudhai, O.K. (2009). ‘Implications for Africa of E-Gov Challenges for Giants SouthAfrica and Nigeria’. In O.K. Mudhai et al. (Eds.), African Media and the Digital Public Sphere (21-40). New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Murdock, G. and Golding, P. (1977). ‘Capitalism, Communications and Class Relations’. In J. Curran et al. (Eds.) Mass Communisation and Society. London: Edward Arnold. Musa, M. (2010). ‘UNESCO and equity in global Communication: Back to the Future?’ Ethical Space- International Journal of Communication Ethics, (2), 37. Onimode, B. (1985). Imperialism and underdevelopment in Nigeria: The dialectics of mass poverty. London: Zed Press. Ottosen, R. and Mudhai, O.F. (2009). ‘Conflict Coverage in a Digital Age’. In O.F. Mudhai et al. (Eds.), African Media and the Digital Public Sphere (239-253). New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Padovani, C. (2004). ´The World Summit on the Information Society: Setting the communication Agenda for the 21 st century? An ongoing exercise.’ Gazette, 66(3-4), 187-191. Robertson, A. (2015). ‘What’s going on? Making sense of the role of the media in the Arab uprisings’. Sociology Compass, 9(7), 531-541. Russell, G. (2017, 22 June). ‘Trump says he doesn’t want a ¨poor ­person¨ handling the economy’. The Guardian. Retrieved 28 June 2017 from https://www.theguardian. com/us-news/2017/jun/22/donald-trump-says-he-doesnt-want-a-poor-personin-cabinet-roles Shenker, J. (2011, 3 June). ‘Fury over advert claiming Egypt Revolution as Vodafone’s’. The Guardian. Retrieved 20 June 2017 from https://www.theguardian.com/ world/2011/jun/03/vodafone-egypt-advert-claims-revolution Simpser, A. (2012). ‘Does electoral manipulation discourage voter turnout? Evidence from Mexico’. The Journal of Politics, 74(3), 782-795. Smyth, T.N. (2013). Social Media, Elections and Democracy in West Africa (Doctoral dissertation). Georgia Institute of Technology. Spooner, S. (2016, 12 May). ‘How can Africa tackle its digital divide?’ World Economic Forum. Retrieved 15 June 2017 from https://www.weforum.org/agenda/2016/05/ how-can-africa-tackle-its-digital-divide Velasquez, A. and LaRose, R. (2015). ‘Social media for social change: Social media, political efficacy and activism in students activists groups’. Journal of Broadcasting and Electronic Media, 59(3), 456-474.

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About the author Muhammed Musa joined the United Arab Emirates University as Associate Professor in Mass Communication in 2013 from the University of Canterbury, New Zealand. He currently chairs the Mass Communication Department. His research interests in which he has published widely are in Political economy of the media, media and sports and media and social change in Africa. He earned a PhD in Media studies from the University of Leicester, UK.

5.

The Partially Digital Internet and South African Youth Toks Oyedemi Abstract Many youths in Africa are increasingly gaining access to the Internet, and, to a large extent, this is due to the growth of mobile Internet connectivity, which is shaping current digital culture amongst the youth. However, for many, their first and main contact with the Internet is through mobile Internet connection and public platforms at college campuses. Considering some of the constraints associated with these forms of access, there are concerns about how the types of Internet access shape the youth’s digital experiences. From a South African case study, this chapter addresses critical questions around the youth’s engagements with the Internet: What are the patterns of Internet access, use, and skills among South African youth? Do the forms of Internet access impact variety of uses and skills, and how? Also, what do these patterns reveal about the digital experiences of the youth? Drawing from studies on the trend of Internet penetration among university students in South Africa, this chapter acknowledges that South African university students generally have access to the Internet, but the types of access they have are rigid and limited. Keywords: Digital inequalities, youth, South Africa, Internet, students

Introduction As Internet penetration continues to grow in Africa, many young people are gaining access, and digital experience, especially in mobile Internet culture, is gradually defining youth culture. Increasingly, access to the Internet is gained through mobile phones (Walton and Leukes, 2013), and the number of mobile Internet subscribers is expected to grow to about

Mutsvairo, B., M. Ragnedda (eds), Mapping the Digital Divide in Africa. A Mediated Analysis, Amsterdam University Press, 2019. doi: 10.5117/9789462986855_ch05

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550 million by 2020, although about 60 percent of the African population will still be unconnected (GMSA, 2016). For many people in Africa, their first experience with the Internet is through the cell phones. This remains, for some, the only way to access the Internet due to the lack of widespread availability of fixed-line Internet connections. The growth in mobile phones in Africa continues to spur the growing use of mobile Internet (Shapshak, 2012; Porter et al., 2012; GMSA, 2016). However, for many youth, access to the Internet on a computer screen is gained mainly at telecentres, Internet cafes, and college campuses. Although studies have shown that African youth use the Internet for a variety of activities, such as for health-related issues (Nwagwu, 2007; Ybarrra, Kiwanuka, Emenyonu, and Bangsberg, 2006; Ossei, Agyemang, and Boakye, 2017), popular use of the Internet by youth is largely for entertainment and social-networking communicative sociability. For example, Batane’s (2013) study of Internet access and use in Bostwana shows that 75 percent of young people’s Internet time is spent on entertainment platforms and for communication–such as social networking, messaging, and chatting. Gradually, among African youth, social networking is substituting other communicative Internet platforms such as email (RIA, 2012). This raises questions regarding the uses of the Internet for other activities, such as for educational, civil, and political engagements. In addition, there is a challenge regarding inequalities with access to and use of the Internet. For instance, in South Africa, studies have shown how these inequalities are noticeable in certain aspects of the youth digital experiences, with socioeconomic status influencing their engagement with the Internet (Blignaut and McDonald, 2008; Oyedemi, 2012). This chapter explores how young people’s digital experiences are influenced by a skewed pattern of technology access with attendant impact on uses and skills, and how this may be indicative of incidences of social inequalities among the youth population. This chapter specifically explores the digital experiences of university students. University students are presumed to be early adopters and frequent users of technologies, and are proficient in using them. This population has regular access to the Internet mostly on campuses and increasingly on mobile devices. However, to tap the benefits of Internet sufficiently, personal and household forms of access offer the best platforms for convenient ‘anytime access’. As a result, examining the forms of access available to the youth is important because types of access have effects on the variety of uses and the potential for developing digital skills. Studying social issues through the lens of a cohort of university students in South Africa has many significant implications. This is a ‘born free generation’,

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born in 1994 and after. They do not experience any legislated social and economic exclusions that hindered previous generations. This generation of students is also born and growing up in the current era of the digital revolution. It thus becomes essential to see how differences in digital experiences may carve out groups that will benefit from Internet access and function effectively in society using digital means from those that may be disadvantaged due to limited Internet access, uses, and inadequate digital skills.

Defining the ‘Partially Digital’ The current young adults comprise a generation born or coming of age during this revolutionary growth in digital communication technologies. For many youth, mobile phones and the Internet have become the dominant platforms of information, communication, cultural expression, and sociability. As a result, digital culture, cultivated through engagement with digital technologies, has become a prominent measure of young adults’ social and cultural experiences. This generation of youth has been described as ‘born digital’ in regards to being born in the current era of digital revolution, and they are also considered ‘digital natives’ because they grow with digital technologies, and have a ‘natural’ engagement with digital technologies (Palfrey and Gasser, 2008). Studies continue to show that the Internet is prominent in young people’s cultural and sociability practices (Tillfors et al., 2008; Chigona, Kamkwenda, and Manjoo, 2008), political and democratic engagements (Forrester and Matusitz, 2010; Calenda and Mosca, 2007; Collin, 2008; Ndlovu and Mbenga, 2013; Steenkamp and Hyde-Clarke, 2012; Bosch, 2013), and education (Isaacs, Broekman, and Mogale 2004; Evoh, 2007; Bosch, 2009). However, the utopian and celebratory rhetoric of a digital generation of young adults with technology proficiencies has raised many critical questions. This rhetoric tends to neglect the layers of inequalities that many young adults experience with regards to technology; instead, it assumes a generation of young people with universal technology access and skills. For Vaidyanathan (2013), there is no such thing as a ‘digital generation’, and such a declaration creates a myth around technology and the youth. He argues: Talk of a ‘digital generation’ or people who are ‘born digital’ willfully ignores the vast range of skills, knowledge and experience of many segments of society. It ignores the needs and perspectives of those young people who are not socially or financially privileged. It presumes a level playing field and equal access to time, knowledge, skills, and technologies. (80)

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This argument resonates in many studies on pattern of technology access, use, and skills among youth. In these studies, the implications of social inequalities on technology penetration are clear (Mossberger, Tolbert, and Stansbury, 2003; DiMaggio and Hargittai, 2001; van Dijk, 2005; Hargittai and Shafer, 2006; Hargittai, 2008; Hargittai and Walejko, 2008; de los Ángeles Flores, Rojas, and Straubhaar, 2017). Scholars have questioned the notion that young people who are ‘digital natives’ are universally Internet savvy. For instance, Hargittai’s (2010) study of college students in an urban university in the US reveals that Internet skills are not randomly distributed, they are influenced by many social categorisations that shape social stratification in society. Her study reveals that higher levels of parental education, being a male, and being white or Asian-American are associated with higher levels of Web-use skill, with those from more privileged backgrounds using the Internet in more informed ways for a larger number of activities (Hargittai, 2010). In an earlier study, Hargittai and Walejko (2008) discovered that many young people, specifically educated youth in colleges, are not actually creating online content, they have limited usage of the full potentials of the Web for content creation. Hargittai and Walejko (2008) also found that socioeconomic status and social inequalities impact content creation and digital skills in general. In South Africa, Oyedemi’s (2012) study of Internet access patterns among youth reveals that pattern of social inequalities in the country has a strong impact on Internet access for many youth. The incidence of digital inequalities experienced by the youth replicates the pattern of social inequalities in the country. The implication is that this experience exacerbates existing social inequalities, with certain categories of students being disproportionately disadvantaged based on income, race, geography, and structure of household. Many South African students rely mostly on cell phone Internet and the public access provided at campus computer laboratories (labs). These forms of Internet access offer many challenges that limit the digital experiences of the youth. For instance, public access on campuses offers a rigid and restrictive form of Internet access: students sometimes stand in line to take turns to use the computers, they have limited time to spend on the computer and the Internet (as they have to make room for the next user), and some students with limited digital skills experience shame or embarrassment by using computer in public view of other users. Some universities also block access to multimedia and social media sites on the network due to low bandwidth capacity and scant unstable WiFi connectivity. All these contribute to a partial digital experience. Cell phone Internet offers a

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personal ‘on-the-go’ form of Internet, which, besides social networking posts and quick online searches, does not offer the full digital experience that personal and household Internet connections on a computer screen offer. For many students, individual connection on a computer and household access is a challenge. This creates a situation in which the notion of a digital generation is questioned, and in which Internet access and skills are not universally distributed among the youth. Youth with household access tend to gain more digital experience and dexterity than those that rely on publicly available connections. As many ‘digital divide’ critics have observed, (cf. Servon, 2002; O’Hara and Stevens, 2006), the issue of digital inequalities is more complicated than a mere access to publicly available connection. This line of criticism has been elaborately discussed by scholars such as DiMaggio and Hargittai (2001) and van Dijk (2005). These scholars argue that a layered pattern of digital access, which includes studying types of technology used to access the Internet, the different use patterns, the motivation to use technology, and the autonomy of use (e.g. there is more autonomy of use at home than at campus labs). This leads to an ‘in-betweeness’ experience with technology for many youth. On one hand, the current youth belongs to a generation that is relatively attuned to digital communication technologies; they mostly have access to the Internet on cell phones or at computer labs on campuses. However, on the other hand, these forms of access have implications for Internet uses and skills. The rigidity and limitations of public access on campus imply that many students cannot fully explore the potentials of the Internet, thereby creating a partial digital experience for many youth. Additionally, incidences of social inequalities tend to shape unequal experiences with technologies. This partial experience creates a cohort of ‘partially digital’ youth. A partially digital person has rigid, limited access to the Internet, inadequate skills to apply this technology, and, as a result, cannot efficiently use the Internet to participate effectively as a citizen in society. Being partially digital describes many experiences; it explains a sense of limited digital experience and an incompleteness of digital participation. This can be measured based on three core criteria: the forms of Internet access, the uses of the Internet, and the pattern of digital skills. First, flexibility of access is essential. For many youth that rely on cell phone Internet and Internet access in schools and colleges, it is true they have access to the Internet, but these forms of access offer limitations that inhibit a full digital access, at least compared to those with flexible and stable household broadband Internet.

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Second, because of the rigidity and restrictive nature of public access, the range of uses of the Internet by students is limited compared to those with household broadband. Third, as a result, students that rely solely on cell phone and public access will develop fewer digital skills than those with flexible household Internet. Take, for instance, that sites with multimedia content are blocked or made intermittently available in some universities’ networks in South Africa, which deprives students of the possibility to engage with such online content. This inhibits their skills to create such content and stunts their digital creative acumen. Such Internet access platforms have repercussions, leading to a limited range of digital skills and Internet uses, and, as a result, this creates a partial digital experience for many youth. These three key variables: forms of access, range of uses, and pattern of digital skills become relevant measures of young people’s digital experience. Considering these factors, it becomes relevant to examine the current nature of Internet access, use, and skills among South African youth, and discuss what this reveals about their digital experiences. Series of national studies on the South African university youth’s Internet profiles, based on their access to the Internet, uses of the Internet, and digital skills by Oyedemi (2012, 2014, 2015a), and supported by other studies, provide a broad context for the analysis in this chapter.

Youth and Pattern of Internet Penetration Nature of Access Generally, 59 percent of South African households have at least one member who has access to or who uses the Internet either at home, work, place of study, or Internet cafés (Statistics South Africa, 2017). This figure hides an Internet penetration problem in South Africa: Internet access at home is a big challenge for many South Africans. Data show that only 9.5 percent of South Africans have Internet access at home (Statistics South Africa, 2017). For many university students, although many of them have computers at home or personal laptops, most of them have no Internet access at home. This is supported by a study that shows that 63 percent of university students have a computer at home or a personal laptop, but 63 percent of them have no Internet access at home (Oyedemi, 2012). In some provinces, most youth do not have access to the Internet at home; for instance, 73 percent of youth in Limpopo, 72 percent in Northern Cape, 76 percent in the Eastern Cape,

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and 70 percent of youth in the North West Province lack Internet access at home (Farber, 2017). They mostly use the Internet in the computer labs on campuses and on their cell phones. For the few students with Internet access at home, mobile Internet connection is the most popular form of home connection. The growth of mobile Internet is arguably responsible for the growth in Internet penetration in South Africa, from a stagnated rate of 7 percent from 2002 to 2007, to finally breaking through the 10 percent penetration mark by 2010, and reaching an estimated 40 percent penetration rate in 2017 (World Wide Worx, 2017). Since accessing the Internet on campus labs is the most popular form of access, when school is not in session or if students are not on campus, access to the Internet becomes a challenge. Some use commercial Internet cafés or public libraries; others resort to using the Internet at parents’ workplaces, friends’ places, and some even come to school during school vacation to use the Internet (Oyedemi, 2012). In fact, a recent similar study shows that, in a survey of first year students in a rural South African university, 73 percent of the students had no access to computers at their high schools prior to coming to the university, and 82 percent of students from rural high schools had no computer or Internet at their high schools. Most students from rural areas used a computer and the Internet for the first time when they arrived at university (Oyedemi and Mogano, 2017). As is typically observed, the case of technology penetration (computers and Internet) is skewed along patterns of social stratification based on place of residence, race, structure of family and household, and family income. Pattern of Use The pattern of students’ access to the Internet has implications for their uses of the Internet. Students who live in cities use the Internet more frequently than other groups of students. A national study on Internet use among students shows that 70 percent of students who live in cities use the Internet daily compared to 42 percent of those who live in rural areas and 29 percent of those in semi-rural areas. Also, students with home Internet access use the Internet far more frequently than those without home access (Oyedemi, 2015a). Having access to personal computers, smartphones, or tablets also influences the possibility of regular Internet use. In South Africa, in addition to economic class, racial demographics still tends to shape certain uses of technologies. The study observed that white students tend to use the Internet more frequently than students from other population groups.

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Because mobile Internet connection, the most popular form of Internet connection in South Africa, is costly for most people, it makes watching online videos very expensive. As a result, many of the students have never watched online videos. In fact, in Oyedemi’s (2015a) study, the majority of student respondents (84.2 percent) do not watch either movies or TV programmes online. Many of them reported that they had never tried to do so. Although the cost associated with using mobile Internet connection makes multimedia uses relatively limited, this use of the Internet is skewed along geography, race, family structure, and family income. For many students, as observed earlier, campus computer labs are the main source of Internet access, and video sites are usually blocked on the network available in the campus computer labs of some South African universities, due to bandwidth limitations. Educational uses of the Internet, for activities such as researching for schoolwork, downloading academic materials, accessing class notes and grades, and looking for information about courses, are the most popular uses of the Internet by the students. This is not surprising considering that Internet access in computer labs on campuses is the most popular form of access. University students are not wholly an economically active population in South Africa; as a result, many do not use it for economic activities such as buying things online. While students do not show a remarkable interest in using the Internet for political activities, such as searching for information on political parties, they are very active in the social uses of the Internet. Finding friends, sharing information, staying connected, and visiting social networking sites are very popular online social activities among students, and this cuts across all demographical classifications. Generally, the most popular student uses of the Internet are for academic activities; online information searches; social media and social networking; communicative activities like texting, sending, and receiving emails; and online chats (Oyedemi, 2015a; DFA, 2017; SME South Africa, 2017). Pattern of Internet Skills Having constant and flexible access to technologies increases digital skills. Access to a home computer or a personal laptop and home Internet access seem to increase the ability and confidence in finding online information. For instance, it is observed that 73.6 percent of students with computers at home are very confident they can use the Internet to find any information, compared to 54.7 percent of those without a computer at home who are also

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very confident they can find information online (Oyedemi, 2014). Similarly, among the students with Internet access at home, 67 percent of them are very confident about finding any information online, and 55.3 percent of those that do not have home Internet access are very confident they can find information online. It has been a trend that having access at home is shaped by social economic status; students with relatively high socioeconomic status may gain more experience with a concomitant effect on their skills (cf. Blignaut and McDonald, 2012). But digital skills are not just the basic ability to search for information online. Increasingly, digital skill requires the ability to create content on a digital platform. Content creation is generally a challenge for most youth; very few of them have ever posted a video online, created a blog or a web page. In Oyedemi’s (2014) study, the high cost of Internet access, particularly for multimedia uses, is arguably one major reason for the low rate of multimedia uses of the Internet. Youth’s responses to the high cost of mobile Internet, the most popular form of Internet connection in South Africa, have led to various forms of activism broadly tagged ‘DataMustFall’. This campaign involves students, activists, and nongovernmental organisations who are mobilising for a reduced cost of mobile Internet (Right2Know, 2017; Gerber, 2017; Venktess, 2017). Increasingly, global technology corporations have begun to show interest in the untapped market potential of the large pool of young Africans without digital skills. Google, for example, hopes to train 10 million Africans in online skills, focusing mainly on South Africa, Nigeria, and Kenya (Akwagyiram and Carsten, 2017).

The Partial Digital Experience of South African Youth There is increasing access to the Internet in South Africa, but this growth should be examined critically. Measuring access based on one member of a household having access either at home, work, place of study, or Internet cafés does not reflect true access. Internet access at home is a huge challenge in South Africa. Mobile Internet mainly spurs the growth in access, but, with its high cost, it reduces the ability to explore the potentials of the Internet thoroughly and regularly. Many university students in South Africa can be described as ‘partially digital’. This is a population that has access to the Internet, but it is a limited form of access provided on public platforms and through mobile phones with attendant constraints. They use the Internet for limited activities to participate in society, and they have limited skills to apply the Internet effectively. The pattern of access to the Internet shows

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that, beyond the public access provided at campus computer labs, many students struggle with Internet access. Many students do not have Internet access at home, and hence they are excluded from the many benefits that household Internet access offers. Even for the few with Internet access at home, most of them use mobile Internet connection provided by cell phone companies, a costly form of access, and, as such, some functions and capabilities that the Internet offers are not effectively utilised. The two most frequently used forms of Internet access for students are computer labs and cell phones. The sense of being partially digital comes when one engages the fact that students have Internet access on campus, but access on campus labs is limited and is often restricted by many factors, including the blocking of many interactive and multimedia sites on university Internet connections due to bandwidth capacity. Cell phone Internet provides an ‘easy’ access to the Internet, this form of Internet-on-the-go is mostly used by students to update status and post comments on social networking sites, to send text messages (such as through WhatsApp), and to send emails. While cell phone technologies continue to improve with the proliferation of smartphones, there are still many limits to web access on cell phones. As Crawford (2011) notes, smartphone access is not a substitute for wired connection to the Internet. The vast majority of jobs require online applications, but it is cumbersome to type up a resume on a handheld device such as a cell phone. It is also hard to get a college degree from a remote location using wireless connection on a cellphone. Cell phone Internet is the most popular form of access for many students, especially those from rural areas, when school is not in session. It is not hard to imagine the challenges that rural students face in online education by relying on cell phone Internet. The sense of being partially digital is also reinforced by the limited uses of the Internet by the students. Apart from using the Internet to search for information, complete school assignments and activities, send and receive mails, share information, and stay connected with friends using social networking sites, the students’ uses of the Internet are very limited. Many students do not often watch or post online videos, TV shows, or movies, because these incur high data costs. Students from semi-rural and rural areas are the most likely to have never used the Internet for multimedia content, such as online videos. The limited use of the Internet goes beyond multimedia content; many of the students have never used the Internet for political activities, such as to search for information on a political party or to see a political campaign advertisement. Moreover, few students have used the Internet for basic e-government activities such as to look up information

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on government services or to contact a government official. Most students have never bought anything online; understandably, this is not an economically active population (Oyedemi, 2015a), and they struggle to access the Internet for job opportunities (Farber, 2017). The idea of being partially digital is highly noticeable with the limited skills that the students have in applying the Internet. Their partial digital skills are exemplified by the fact that, while they can easily locate online information on the Internet, most of the students have never created any form of online content. Most of the students have never created a blog, posted a video online, or created a webpage. The high cost of Internet access, particularly for downloading and uploading multimedia content, is arguably the reason for the low rate of posting online videos. The partial digital experience of the students based on limited and rigid access to the Internet, limited use, and inadequate skills to apply the Internet is skewed according to demographics such as geographical location and population groups. It also has a serious implication for their experience of citizenship. If citizenship implies the ability to participate in every sphere of society – civil, social, economic, political, educational, and so forth –, for many students, their ability to participate in society using digital means is compromised. The unequal pattern of access to the Internet is a serious challenge for attaining full citizenship participation using digital means for many of these youth. Participation in society as a citizen is more than the ability to vote or representation in government. Access to the Internet can contribute to multidirectional forms of participation. This could be through participation in institutionalised politics or government through e-government, e-democracy, and e-campaigning, or economic participation through online job search, educational participation through e-learning, and in many aspects of social and cultural participation. Unfortunately, students without home Internet access tend to use the Internet less frequently than students with home Internet. As a result, students with home Internet are poised to benefit more and use the Internet more for participation in society. Participation in society as a citizen also implies the ability of individuals to make their voices heard, to contribute to issues that affect individuals and the community at large. This argument has supported the claim for establishment of community-based media (Rennie, 2006). Unfortunately, as evidenced by research findings discussed in this chapter, the relatively simple task of creating online content is a big challenge for many university students in South Africa. Despite the fact that new social software has made it relatively easy to create online content, most of the students are not taking

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advantage of this. Also, noting the multiethnic and multilingual characteristics of South Africa, the ability of individuals to create local content, and content in their own languages is very important. Unfortunately, the students are not tapping Internet’s potentials for this ability. Many of these students have never posted a video online, have never created a blog, have never created a webpage or a Wiki, and some do not even know what blogs and Wikis are (Oyedemi, 2014).

Beyond the ‘Partially Digital’ Despite the inequalities that shape the digital experiences of the youth in South Africa, this group of the population, at least those with access, effectively utilise the Internet for many socioeconomic and political activities that have led to social change in the country. Although minimal and only among a select few, the South African youth are leading innovator in Africa, in social networking, microblogging, and content creation (Berger et al., 2012). They have adopted the mobile technology and social media platforms to mobilise for social change in addressing the high cost of education and the need for social transformation in universities, as exemplified by #FeesMustFall and #RhodesMustFall campaigns. The challenge of digital inequalities, however, persists and this calls for many considerations in addressing this problem. First, there is the need to recognise Internet access as a citizen’s right. There must be a legislative statement that recognises communication technologies, the dominant forms of information and communication creation and dissemination, as the basic rights of every citizen. This recognition carries a symbolic influence that supports the constitutional rights to freedom of expression. Internet access (and communication technologies more broadly) as citizenship rights is a recognition of the importance of technologies in making other human rights possible, rights such as of education and health, and in addressing issues around poverty. Making Internet access a citizen’s right does not automatically imply free provision for all. It allows the government to monitor the market operations of telecommunication corporations, avoid abuse of market power, inhibit anti-competitive behaviours, ensure the affordability of access cost for all citizens, and provide subsidies for low-income and indigent citizens. The argument here has been critically and scholarly argued (see Oyedemi, 2015b), and has informed the recognition of human rights and Internet access by the United Nations.

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Considering that Internet on mobile devices is the most popular Internet connection for many youth, and issue of affordability is a constant concern, there is a need to reduce the cost of Internet data in South Africa. South Africa has one of the highest costs of data in Africa. The high cost is affecting access and usage pattern of the Internet with a concomitant effect on youth digital experiences and the South African economy (Seeth, 2018). This high cost of data has generated activism, such as the #DataMustFall campaign, geared toward a more affordable pricing of data for Internet access. Another issue relating to the high cost of data is the expiration of data that has already purchased. The idea that data that has already been purchased can expire is commercial exploitation. The Internet is a critical utility like electricity; just as prepaid electricity does not expire if not consumed, a prepaid data should also roll over or add up to a newer purchase rather than expire. To move the South African youth beyond a partial experience of the Internet, the cost of data must be addressed. To address this cost issue, the regulatory authority needs to open more spectrum for mobile Internet, and consider more competition in the Internet service provision. One such competition could be through public provision of Internet connectivity through a municipal broadband network rollout. The rationale is that, if municipalities and local governments could provide electricity, water, transportation, and local roads, they should be empowered to provide electronic communication, especially in areas considered unattractive to commercial operators ‒ largely low-income and rural areas. The services that local governments provided were essential to economic development during the industrial era; as we move into the information economy of the 21st century, access to broadband is essential to provide many services to local communities, such as health, education, tourism, commerce, etc. (Abrahams, Bakker, and Bhyat, 2007). At the nascent stage, such municipal provision may face many challenges due to public (including national government’s investment) and corporate interests in the commercial telecommunication service provision. For universities in South Africa, it is essential that huge investments are made in expanding broadband Internet access. This should include an increase in Internet bandwidth available on campuses and more diffusion of WiFi access on campuses. This is essential, as academic activities are increasingly dependent on fast and stable Internet networks, also considering that, for many students, access on campus is their sole and stable connection to the Internet. Another way of addressing the access issue is through provision of subsidies to poor households and low-income people; the worst affected being

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female-headed households, especially in rural areas. These population groups lack access to many social utilities, and access to the Internet is one of many important resources they lack. Specifically, for the population studied here, university students, household subsidies should be provided to poor and rural households (needy persons) with children in colleges and universities. Issue of subsidies is not a new idea; the Electronic Communications Act instructs on how needy persons should be subsidised to gain access to electronic communications, and the South African broadband policy of 2013 also embraces this. However, this subsidisation needs to move beyond policy rhetoric to an actionable programme to implement subsidies for needy families. Subsidies for Internet access may only cover the cost of connection and usage, but not the cost of users´ devices. This leads to another consideration regarding the provision of public Internet connection at telecentres and multipurpose centres. Considering the limitations of public Internet connection in public spaces such as telecentres and multipurpose centres, it is worth considering the impact that public WiFi access may have on flexibility of access, use, and skills. The use of Universal Service and Access Fund (USAF) to fund public Internet connectivity in a specific space, such as a telecentre, needs a rethink in the age of digital mobility that shapes individual digital experiences. The installation of community WiFi funded by the USAF may encourage a flexible and private access to the Internet. However, telecentres may still exist in the community to provide allied services such as printing and training, and for those without access to user devices, such as computers. For many youth whose experience with the Internet is increasingly private and mobile, community WiFi connection will provide an essential model of connectivity. Digital skills are another important issue that needs to be addressed; it remains a challenge in South Africa as evidenced by the findings discussed in this chapter. It is critical to address the challenge of digital skills, and this is important for many reasons: the majority of content accessed in South Africa is in the English; although English is largely the official language of commerce and most official transactions in South Africa, it is not the most widely spoken language and it is also not the only official language. Ability to create digital content will equip the youth with the skills to create online content in their home languages, eventually increasing the volume of local content in local languages that are relevant to the diverse population of South Africa. Digital skills need to be effectively and creatively included in academic curricula. The inclusion of Computer Applications Technology and

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Information Technology as subjects in the national high school curriculum is a great step in the right direction. The content of these subjects must be designed for a hands-on experience in coding and online content creation in addition to word processing, spreadsheet usage, and web surfing capabilities. The culture of online content creation must also be nurtured at universities. The universal access and service policy must be expanded to include and fund skills development for teachers, especially for rural teachers, who in turn will train students. But, as mentioned, the biggest hindrance to digital skills is limited and rigid access to the Internet. To encourage Internet use amongst the citizenry in South Africa, the government and all its agencies, from federal to local governments, including public institutions such as schools and hospitals, must have an online presence. Public services should be digitised and made available online. Take, for instance, the renewal of certain permits or licences; a citizen should be able to merely go to a webpage, apply for the renewal online, and physically pick up the renewed document or have it mailed. This makes government officials work smarter, cuts corruption, and improves efficiency. This will drastically reduce long lines of people standing for hours in government buildings for services that could be done with a few simple clicks of the mouse. Lastly, effective policy is important in creating a digital youth culture and digital citizenship. A neoliberal-driven policy agenda that aims for corporate profitability at the expense of poor households tends to lead to high cost of access and to a stagnant digital culture. Policies should be more rights-based than merely creating policy that fosters a competitive telecom market. While competition is necessary, market dictates should not drive policy agendas. Policy should be driven by citizen’s rights to access certain important resources. The rights-based approach will eventually lead to a telecom market that functions fairly. A rights-based policy focuses on the rights of citizens to gain access to resources that enhance citizen participation rather than policy that focuses on legal issues and regulations that work on a supply side of the industry and encourages market power of firms. To expand digital culture and digital citizenship among the youth in South Africa, there is a need for a national policy on a digital future for South Africa. This single national ICT policy synthesises and guides the activities of various government departments and programmes, and maps out the digital future for South Africa. This policy moves beyond telecommunications policy exemplified in the National Telecommunications Act, but provides specific guidelines for a digital future for the country. The all-encompassing national policy guidelines identify actionable procedure to achieve the goals and

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vision of the digital future for South Africa. This national policy document will cover activities relating to all arms and spheres of government in South Africa, including education, transportation, health, arts and culture, and so forth. It will be developed through consultative processes that involves policy experts, academics, government bureaucrats, and the general public. The national digital future guidelines will include themes such as: ‘ICT access’ to map out strategies to achieve widespread ICT access in South Africa, including issues of cost and affordability; ‘digital society’ to plan a digital government that is based on all government agencies having Internet and digital presence, and the digitalisation of all public services; ‘digital skill´ to provide guidelines for improving digital skills and supporting local content creation on all ICT platforms; and ‘digital security and safety’ to provide guidelines for issues around online security, safety, and privacy concerns. These considerations provide the potential to address the partial digital experience of youth in South Africa with the intent to create a digital society in which many are active digital citizens.

Conclusion The discussion from this chapter has three critical implications on the pattern of social inequalities in South Africa. First, it reinforces the argument that digital inequalities should not be seen in isolation from access to other social resources. The Internet is engaged here as a social resource; it is one of the many resources, such as housing, electricity, water, jobs, education, access to transportation, and so forth, that individuals need in a society. Second, the unequal access to the Internet has expanded the range of inequalities that certain members of the society experience. For a group of citizens already disadvantaged by the limited access to other necessary resources and utilities, their experience of inequalities is further exacerbated by lack of access to the Internet. Third, the pattern of digital inequalities may foreshadow the trajectory of future patterns of inequalities in South Africa. The biggest challenge is the cost of access, specifically the high cost of mobile Internet that many low-income South Africans rely on to gain access to the Internet. The affluent, who live in areas with established fixed-line telecom connection, benefit from unlimited fixed-line Internet. The youth in such affluent homes equally benefit from such Internet connection; however, for many youth from low-income and poor households, they have to rely primarily on the costly mobile data purchase to be connected to the Internet.

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This chapter notes that certain groups of students benefit more from digital access than others. If this is not addressed, this inequality may shape future inequalities that these students will experience as adults. The chapter also reveals that the partial access to the Internet, the partial uses of the Internet, and the partial digital skills that describe the digital experiences of many youth have consequences on their experiences of participation, citizenship, and social inequalities in South Africa.

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About the author Toks Oyedemi is an Associate Professor in Communication and Media Studies at the University of Limpopo, South Africa. He received his PhD from the University of Massachusetts Amherst, USA.

6. Online Football Fandomas a Microcosm of the Digital Participation Divide in Zimbabwe Lyton Ncube

Abstract This study complements burgeoning literature on the digital participation divide in Africa. The chapter examines participation disparities between Zimbabwe’s rural and urban populations in online football fandom. Studies approaching the subject from such a lens are few and far between. The chapter explores participatory cultures in digital football fandom during the Africa Cup of Nations (AFCON) tournament hosted by Gabon from January to February 2017. Playing in Group B alongside continental powerhouses Senegal, Algeria, and Tunisia, the Warriors (Zimbabwe men’s senior national football team) performed dismally, resulting in early elimination from the tournament. Virtual platforms such as WhatsApp and Facebook became ‘carnivals’ where the Warriors became a subject of ridicule. The chapter therefore examines levels of participation and limits to participation of Zimbabwe’s rural and urban population in the production and consumption of humorous WhatsApp memes caricaturing the Warriors’s loss during the period under study. Key words: Digital divide, Online fandom, Gokwe, memes, WhatsApp

Introduction The concept ‘digital divide’ has received significant attention in media and communication studies in the Web 2.0 era, making it so difficult to offer any new critical reflection. The term digital divide refers to inequality in access to information and communication technology (ICT) (Norris, 2001). Critical

Mutsvairo, B., M. Ragnedda (eds), Mapping the Digital Divide in Africa. A Mediated Analysis, Amsterdam University Press, 2019. doi: 10.5117/9789462986855_ch06

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components under the ‘digital divide’ topic include ‘digital participation’ and ‘digital participation divide’ (Morales et al., 2016). Digital participation refers to the use of the Internet to produce cultural goods that are subsequently shared on a global scale (Morales et al., 2016). The participation divide refers to social inequalities in the production of digital content (Correa, 2010; Blank, 2013; Morales et al. 2016). Sloan and Quan-Haase (2017) contend that digital (social) media are pervasive in people’s daily lives and provide new platforms for socialisation, public debate, and information exchange. This chapter complements growing literature on the digital participation divide in Africa. While earlier research (Ayanso, Cho, and Lertwacharab, 2010), examines the digital participation divide in terms of Global North vs. Global South relations, I localise the discussion in the context of Zimbabwe’s rural and urban populations to demonstrate a participation disparity and limits to participation in online football fandom. Fandom refers to ‘a subculture composed of fans characterised by a feeling of sympathy and camaraderie with others who share a common interest’ (Davies, 2015, 423). Importantly, fandom is a major component of the way football is played, displayed, and sold aesthetically to prospective audiences across the globe (Davies, 2015). Previously, sports fandom was largely confined to defined physical spaces such as stadia terraces. However, digital (social) media platforms have augmented the breadth and scope of fandom. Social media platforms allow sports fans to talk to one another online, express their team preference, and feel part of a group (Haught, Willis, Furrow, Morris III, and Freberg, 2016). Digital media platforms have also empowered diverse fans to participate in heteroglossic carnivals of power that pit ‘ordinary’ people against other ‘ordinary’ people, and ordinary people against the elite (Ncube, 2014). The study shows a participation divide between Zimbabwe’s urban and rural populations in the creation and consumption of digital media memes. The analysis is confined to the consumption of WhatsApp memes circulated during the Africa Cup of Nations (AFCON) matches hosted by Gabon from January to February 2017. The Warriors played in a group consisting of Senegal, Algeria, Zimbabwe, and Tunisia. The Warriors´s opening match against Algeria resulted in a draw (2-2); they lost 0-2 to Senegal in the second match and lost 2-4 to Tunisia in the final group match. Consequently, the Warriors prematurely exited the tournament. Readily combustible online platforms such as WhatsApp and Facebook became ‘carnivals’ where the Warriors’s loss became a topical subject for discussion and caricature. The banter that ensued on these virtual platforms went beyond the national football team’s loss and satirised Zimbabwe’s economic and political situation. The

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chapter therefore interrogates the extent to which Zimbabwe’s rural dwellers participated in the creation and consumption of such online fandom memes. The Gokwe rural community, which is located in the Midlands Province of Zimbabwe, is used as a case study. Though statistics and research tend to celebrate mobile and Internet penetration in rural Zimbabwe, little has been said about the participation of the rural populace.

Context of the Study Zimbabwe is a sub-Saharan country with a population estimated around 13.5 million (Zimbabwe Population Census National Report, 2012). These statistics, however, can be contested since a sizeable percentage of the country’s population migrated to neighbouring countries such as South Africa and Botswana, as well at the United Kingdom, due to a deteriorating economic and political environment in the post-2000 epoch. Currently, the majority of Zimbabwe’s population resides in rural areas (Zimbabwe Population Census National Report, 2012). As of 2015, the World Bank collection of development indicators revealed that 68 percent of Zimbabwe’s population lives in rural areas. Mobile phone and Internet penetration has significantly improved in Zimbabwe just as in other African countries. By the end of March 2017, the Postal and Telecommunication Regulatory Authority of Zimbabwe (POTRAZ), reported that 95.4 percent of the population has access to mobile phones, while national Internet penetration was said to be at 48.1% (Musarurwa, 2017). Mobile technologies still determine the majority of Zimbabwe’s Internet access, contributing 97.46% to all connections registered nationally (POTRZAZ report, 2017). For instance, Gambanga (2016) states that 84 percent of Zimbabwe’s rural population have at least one household member with a mobile phone. Through mobile broadband connections, most Zimbabweans access online social platforms such as Facebook, Twitter, and WhatsApp, though data bundles remain a challenge. For instance, there was an outcry in January 2017 when the company Econet Wireless drastically increased mobile broadband tariffs, making Internet one of the most expensive services for average Zimbabweans (Gambanga, 2016). Citizen outcry on increases on data bundles was motivated by the fact that Internet in general and online social media platforms are not only sources of communicating and networking, but are also sites for the citizenry’s critical commentary on the current Zimbabwean political-economic crisis. Zimbabweans often satirise the economic crisis on social media platforms (Willems, 2010). Papacharissi

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(2002) contends that online platforms such as Facebook, Twitter, blogs, and online newspapers, offer the public or citizens a public space to produce public opinion. In 2016, urban-based social movements such as #This Flag, led by Pastor Evan Mawarire, and #Tajamuka/Sesijikile utilised digital media spaces to mobilise protests against the Zimbabwe African National Union Patriotic Front (ZANU PF) government. However, these protests were conf ined to urban centres and never spread to rural areas. Digital media are also critical spaces for discussing football issues in Zimbabwe. Most popular clubs in Zimbabwe, such as Dynamos FC, Highlanders FC, CAPS United, and FC Platinum have social media platforms for their fans. However, studies on Zimbabwean football have yet to interrogate online fandom participatory cultures. Using purposively selected football fans from rural Gokwe as a case study, the study examines the extent to which the rural population participates in the creation and consumption of digital fandom banter. The study also explores forces limiting full participation of the rural population.

Conceptual Framework: the Digital Divide The topic ‘digital divide’ has been recently been significantly researched (Robinson and Crenshaw, 2010). The subject has been approached from different theoretical or disciplinary approaches such as media/communication studies, sociology, and information science, among others. The topic ‘digital divide’ originally focused on the disparity in Internet access between rural and urban areas of the USA, particularly the exclusion of minorities, the elderly, and people with lower income, education, and disabilities from online resources (Norris, 2001; Ayanso, Cho, and Lertwacharab, 2010). The term digital divide was coined in the 1990s to refer to ‘the gap between those who do and those who do not have access to new forms of information technology’ (van Dijk, 2006, 221). This original approach to studying the digital divide focused on differences in levels of access to new information and communications technologies among different populations. Thus, digital divide was first measured in a binary manner: Internet access or not (first level divide) (Bertrand and Simplice, 2016). However, discussions on the digital divide now focus on the gap in the intensity and nature of IT use rather than mere access to it (Dawson and Barron, 2013). The concept has now been expanded to include other dimensions of digital divide such as quality of devices, degree of autonomy in use, and level of contribution in the

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production and distribution of information on the Internet (Hargittai, 2003). This approach to the study of the digital divide helps to show differences in Internet use and factors behind them (Bimber, 2000; Bonfadelli, 2002; Morales et al., 2016). Some studies on the digital divide examine the relationship between digital participation and the digital participation divide (Correa, 2010; Schradie, 2011; van Dijk, 2013; Morales et al., 2016). Participation divide involves an adaptation of the principles and ideas that articulate the study of the digital divide to the context of peer production (Morales et al., 2016). In essence, the participation divide encompasses social inequalities in the production of digital content (Blank, 2013; Correa, 2010; Morales et al., 2016). Abundant literature on the digital divide focuses on the gap in access to or use of ICT devices as measured by the number of phone lines per inhabitant, or the number of Internet users, or of mobile telephones in the population (Campbell, 2001; Ayanso, Cho, and Lertwacharab, 2010). Research also shows how ICTs are widening or closing the digital divide (Bertrand and Simplice, 2016). Examinations have also been conducted on the digital divide between the so-called developed and developing nations (Ayanso, Cho, and Lertwacharab, 2010). These studies contend that the digital gap could further widen the economic gap between developed and developing nations. The dominant assumption in digital divide literature is that the diffusion of digital devices will reduce the digital divide in developing nations (Sung, 2016). A study by Sung (2016) on the digital divide in Korea, where most people own smartphones, shows that smartphone use reduces the digital divide across participants of different ages, education levels, occupations, and income levels. However, ‘digital literacy’ remains an issue fuelling the participation divide (van Dijk, 2013; Sung, 2016). It is critical for this study to demonstrate the extent to which such factors apply in Zimbabwe’s online football fandom participation divide under discussion. There is also a significant body of literature engaging the subject of the digital divide and marginalised communities. For instance, Samsudin and Hasan (2017) examine how marginalised Malaysian youths use the Internet in their everyday lives. The digital divide is one of the increasingly researched topics in Africa (Bertrand and Simplice, 2016). Importantly, despite often pessimistic accounts of connectivity levels in Africa, digital media have been appropriated and adapted to the African context with such speed and breadth that it is now clear that vibrant digital cultures and practices have developed in Africa despite infrastructural, political, and economic obstacles (Wasserman, 2011; Mabweazara, 2015; Mutsvairo, 2016).

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In Zimbabwe, the location of this research, literature has engaged with a wide range of issues such as new media technologies and democratic participation in Zimbabwe (Mare, 2013; Mutsvairo, 2013; Mutsvairo and Sirks, 2015). Focusing on a contentious Facebook page ‘Baba Jukwa’, Mutsvairo and Sirks (2015) examine the Internet’s potential to shape political processes in Zimbabwe. Their study shows that, despite significant people participating or commenting on the Baba Jukwa Facebook page, it is not plausible to argue that the page has increased democratic participation in Zimbabwe. Similar sentiments are echoed in a study on the same subject (Baba Jukwa and Amai Jukwa) by Chibuwe and Ureke (2016). The two interrogate whether the Internet’s liberative potential, enhanced by free entry and exit and the ability to remain anonymous, impacts Baba Jukwa and Amai Jukwa’s discourses on Facebook. Chibuwe and Ureke (2016, 1) argue that ‘even though Facebook provides an alternative public sphere, it can also be pulverised by irrational debates’. Thus, the Internet’s so-called ability to democratise the public sphere remains a dream in the Zimbabwean context. While this body of literature is welcome, it has a huge bias on participatory culture in political issues and is silent on rural populations’ participation on these platforms. Virtually no literature or research exists of online football fandom and the participatory divide in Zimbabwe.

Literature on Football Fandom in Zimbabwe Football fandom is a critical lens for visualising the digital participation divide in Zimbabwe. Sport does not happen in a vacuum but ‘gains its significance and meaning from the outside world’ (Vidacs, 2003, 151). The sporting lives of the football supporters are not separate from the everyday (Fletcher, 2015). However, there is a dearth of studies engaging the subject of digital participation divide from online football fandom lens. Significant literature in the area focuses on fandom and political discourse (Stuart, 1995; Alegi, 2010; Zenenga, 2012). This literature shows that Zimbabwean politicians across the political spectrum view football fandom as a fertile space for gaining political capital (Willems, 2013; Ncube, 2014). For example, the ruling Zimbabwe African National Union Patriotic Front (ZANU PF) government have always resorted to football fandom to save a waning political hegemony (Ncube, 2014). However, fandom has also been critical to mobilising resistance against ruling authorities (Muponde and Muchemwa, 2011; Zenenga, 2012; Ncube, 2014, 2017). Football fandom has always opened up an arena for protest and political agency in Zimbabwe

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(Muponde and Muchemwa, 2011; Zenenga, 2012; Ncube, 2014, 2017). Zimbabwe’s biggest opposition political party, Movement for Democratic Change (MDC) also deploys football discourse to challenge the ruling ZANU PF (Ncube, 2014). Some studies demonstrate intersections of football fandom and gender discourses in Zimbabwe (Daimon, 2010; Chiweshe, 2014; Ncube, 2014, Chikafa, 2015). For example, Chikafa (2015) examines how gender identities played out within the terrain of fandom in public spaces such as bars in Zimbabwe, during the FIFA 2010 World Cup hosted by South Africa. Chikafa’s (2015) study is closer to my examination in terms of research setting (pubs), but differs on the subject of investigation. Ethnicity is also another recurring theme in literature on football in Zimbabwe (Stuart 1995; Ncube 2014, 2017; Ncube and Munoriyarwa, 2017; Choto, Chiweshe, and Muparamoto, 2017). The manifestation of ethnic conflicts between Zimbabwe’s dominant ethnic groups ‒ Shona and Ndebele ‒ reflects contestations surrounding Zimbabwe’s national identity (Ncube, 2017). Ethnic conflicts in football fandom often culminate in violence and hooliganism at matches, especially during Dynamos FC and Highlanders FC matches (Ncube, 2014, 2017; Ncube and Moyo, 2017; Ncube and Munoriyarwa, 2017). However, studies on digital football fandom in Zimbabwe are few and far between. Studies (Chiweshe, 2014; Choto, Chiweshe, and Muparamoto, 2017) employ netnography to analyse the rise of online fandoms in Zimbabwe, specifically on Facebook and other social networking sites. Their work, however, is silent on the subject of the digital participation divide. This study therefore examines the participation divide in online football fandom in Zimbabwe, illuminating forces that limit participation of the rural populace.

Methodology This study utilised qualitative methods in examining levels of participation and limits to participation in online football fandom by some of Zimbabwe’s rural dwellers. Gokwe rural residents were purposively sampled and used as a case study in exploring the extent to which they participated in the creation and consumption of humourous WhatsApp memes which trended following the Warriors’s poor performance at the AFCON finals in Gabon. However, this research has presented a number of challenges. For a start, it is difficult to ascribe an identity to producers of memes that circulate on WhatsApp and other digital media platforms. Producers of these memes

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are faceless and consequently difficult to trace. Rural, urban, and diaspora residents can produce some of the content interfacing with local and global politics, often trending on social media platforms. I am also aware of the fact that rural/urban concerns are not fixated and that the dichotomy itself is problematic. Rural people are not always fixed and stationed in rural spaces, and neither are urban dwellers. Often, rural-urban migration takes place at different epochs. However, the source of the memes is not the major concern of this study. Interest is in analysing the extent to which selected participants could relate to the memes and forces behind their (mis)readings of the memes. My firsthand experiences having been born and raised in the Gokwe rural area also counted in the study. My experiences motivated me to embark on this study. Though now based in the urban areas of Gweru and Johannesburg (South Africa), I frequently visit rural Gokwe. During the period of research, I watched televised AFCON matches at Chitekete sports bar (owned by Leonard Chikomba, the Member of Parliament in the area). My population sample was thus largely drawn from fans who regularly consumed matches from this bar. A total of 30 participants were interviewed. In-depth semi-structured interviews and focus group discussions were held with these participants. 25 of my participants were male, while only five were female, reflecting the masculine nature of football fandom (Chiweshe, 2014). Some of the people are formally employed (teachers, nurses, etc.) while the majority are not. The participant sample included those with and without smartphones. My assumption was that, because of their regular presence in the pub during matches, they would be knowledgeable about the topical issues trending in online football fandom circles. I wanted to find out the extent to which participants (especially with smartphones) watching televised AFCON matches in this bar received the memes under discussion. I also wanted to find out the extent to which participants were knowledgeable about the creation and dissemination of such memes.

Brief Description of the Analysed Memes Most analysed memes discussed with participants from Gokwe were intertwined with political and economic discourses. In fact, most of these memes expressed anti-Robert Mugabe’s ZANU PF government sentiments. Fandom, by its nature, has characteristics of protest. For example, one of the analysed jokes circulated after the Warriors’s 0-2 loss to Senegal said:

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Right Right. Hanzi usaseke kudyiwa kwenyika yedu. Nhasi yanyika yedu tese nhai pamaitirambidza kupfeka flag hanti maiti inyika yenyu. So toseka nyika yenyu yezanu pf yakadyiwa yedu nyika ichauya (You want to stop us from laughing at Zimbabwe’s defeat claiming that we should be proud of our country yet you were preventing us from putting on the flag saying that it’s your country. We are laughing at ZANU PF’s country ours is yet to come).

Following the Warriors’s 0-2 defeat to Senegal, some of the jokes suggested that Zimbabwe should have sent ZANU PF to the tournament given that the party hardly loses elections and, even in cases in which they lose, results take time to be announced. Such jokes relate to the disputed 2008 Zimbabwean national elections. The March 2008 presidential election race pitted Robert Mugabe (ZANU PF), Morgan Tsvangira (MDC), and former ZANU PF Politburo member Simba Makoni (Mavambo party). After a protracted ballot counting process that took over two months and amid speculations of vote rigging, the election results were announced without a clear winner (Ncube, 2014). Results indicated that MDC-T’s Morgan Tsvangirai led the first round of voting with 47%, while ZANU PF’s Robert Mugabe followed with 43% (ZESN, 2008). These statistics meant that Tsvangirai had failed to garner the required 50% plus one vote needed for him to be declared the winner. This stalemate resulted in the runoff, set for 27 June 2008, which became a one-man show as Tsvangirai withdrew from the race in the face of alleged and documented violence, intimidation, murder, torture, and arrests perpetrated on his supporters by a combination of ZANU PF militia and state security organs (Cheeseman and Tendi, 2010). Following Zimbabwe’s 4-2 defeat to Tunisia, the following joke trended on WhatsApp: ‘Why can’t Zimbabwe make these 4 goals disappear like the 15 billion?’. The 15 billion joke is in reference to a revelation made to the press by former president Robert Mugabe that US$15 billion from diamond proceeds had gone missing. Some of the jokes suggested that the Warriors’s failure to score at the tournament reflected the unemployment crisis in Zimbabwe. Bond notes currency also dominated WhatsApp discussions. For instance, one of the jokes read: Zimbabwe yakutoda gamba saVaMangudya kuti vagadzire Bond team iri equivalent to Chelsea pamwe tingatambewo AFCON final ku Gabon (Zimbabwe needs a hero like Reserve Bank of Zimbabwe Governor Mangudya to set up a Bond Team equivalent to Chelsea FC so that we can make it to the finals of the tournament in Gabon).

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In some of the jokes, Mangudya was challenged to create ‘Bond Warriors’ equivalent to powerful footballing nations such as Germany and Spain. In some of the jokes, fans questioned the wisdom in letting the national team don green attire (similar to bond notes in colour) in a foreign land when the notes are restricted for use in Zimbabwe.

Findings Participants’ Failure to Read the Jokes as Confirmation of Participation Divide From my conversations with participants, not every participant received WhatsApp fandom memes under discussion despite possession of smartphones. In fact, of the 30 participants, only 11 confirmed regular receipt of these memes. According to these participants, relatives and colleagues in urban centres, such as Bulawayo, Gweru, and Harare forwarded them these jokes. Another challenge observed is that, despite receipt of the memes, some participants could not read them in context. For example, some participants struggled to interpret the joke ‘you must not stop us from laughing at Zimbabwe’s defeat claiming that we should be proud of our country yet you were preventing us from putting on the flag saying that it’s your country. We are laughing at ZANU PF country ours is coming)’. In response to the above joke, a female participant said: ‘People are just trying to be naughty […] There is nothing serious about this message’. The failure to relate the memes to a larger context communicates exclusion of the rural population in online football fandom cultures. Most participants (except teachers and nurses) failed to relate to a joke which trended following Zimbabwe’s 2-4 defeat to Tunisia. The joke read: ‘Why can’t Zimbabwe make these 4 goals disappear like the 15 billion?’ As mentioned earlier, the missing US$15 billion is linked to President Mugabe’s revelation in 2016 that US$15 billion in diamond proceeds had disappeared. I contend that failure to relate to the US$15 billion saga which was extensively covered by the traditional media, confirms the digital divide between Zimbabwe’s rural and urban populace. Rusike (1990) contends that Zimbabwe has a two-way communication system. On one hand, the urban population have access to the mainstream media such as newspapers, television, and radio for information. Even in current times, print media circulation in Zimbabwe’s rural areas, Gokwe included, is highly restricted. In fact, newspapers never reach most parts of Gokwe, which makes it difficult

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for people in these areas to access news. Radio signals are also a challenge in such areas. In the digital age, it seems that rural areas also lag behind in digital participation culture. There were also (mis)interpretations of jokes that circulated after Zimbabwe’s 2-0 to Senegal which insinuated that Zimbabwe should have sent ZANU PF to the tournament given that the party hardly loses elections and, even in cases where they lose, results take time to be announced. Other jokes suggested that, if Senegal wanted to test humiliation, they should come and contest as an opposition political party during Zimbabwe’s forthcoming 2018 national elections. Most of my participants expressed dismay that people have the guts to mock the ruling government in this way. For instance, a female respondent said: […] Some people are brave outside there, how can they say this to our president and government. I can’t imagine myself creating such rubbish […] I don’t want to rot in prison (Interviewed 28 January 2017).

From this response, the participation divide can be explained by the fact that some of the rural Zimbabweans doubt the safety to create and circulate humourous content mocking the ZANU PF government. They have a feeling that there is always a ‘big brother’ watching. This fear can be explained by their experiences, especially during elections. Political violence (for example, in 2008), is mainly concentrated in rural areas, including Gokwe. Consequently, these people are scared to join a bandwagon of bloggers ridiculing ZANU PF government. This is unlike in urban areas (NdlovuGatsheni, 2009; Chibuwe, 2017), where people freely challenge the ZANU PF and sympathise with the MDC. Literature on post-2000 Zimbabwean politics (Muzondidya and Ndlovu-Gatsheni, 2011; Chibuwe, 2017) show that ZANU PF manufactures fear as a weapon in rural areas to maintain its stranglehold. It is argued that, even during elections, the party creates an impression that the regime knows where people cast their votes (Chibuwe, 2017). It appears that some of the rural population believe it. I thus argue that ‘fear’ of the big brother is largely limiting the rural population to join online football fandom cultures with protest and ‘anti-ZANU PF’ nuances. The exclusion of the rural population was also evident in jokes intersecting with economic issues. For example, some of the jokes equated the Warriors’s failure to score to a misfiring Zimbabwean economy which has turned most Zimbabweans jobless. Due to deindustrialisation and the continued informalisation of the Zimbabwean economy, especially in the post-2000 epoch, the majority of Zimbabweans in urban centres are jobless and

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have no stable sources of income. Another thematic issue dominant in the jokes centred on bond notes introduced by the Reserve Bank of Zimbabwe Governor Dr. John Mangudya in 2016. For example, after the Warriors’s loss to Tunisia the following joke circulated: Zimbabwe yakutoda gamba saVaMangudya kuti vagadzire Bond team iri equivalent to Chelsea pamwe tingatambewo AFCON final ku Gabon (Zimbabwe needs a strong character such as Reserve Bank Governor Mangudya to set up a Bond Team equivalent to Chelsea FC so that we can make it to the finals of the tournament in Gabon).

Some of the jokes mocked the wisdom in letting the national team don green attire (which resembles bond notes) when the currency is strictly for use in Zimbabwe only. Following Zimbabwe’s 2-2 draw with Algeria, dominant sentiments in the jokes were that the draw had been inspired by the fact that the RBZ governor made bond notes equivalent to a powerful currency – the US dollar. During discussions with participants, some of them had no idea who Mangudya was. The participants also could not tell why bond notes were the subject of ridicule in football discourse. However, those in urban centres are better located in such discourses given frantic efforts by the opposition political parties to demonstrate against the bond notes in 2016.

Economic, Social, and Technological Forces behind Digital Participation Divide The chapter shows that economic, social, and technological factors also account for limited participation levels in online fandom, as demonstrated by the Gokwe case. The quality of gadgets or mobile phones largely account for the rural population’s lack of participation in the online creation and dissemination of football memes. Not everyone has an Internet-enabled mobile phone. During a conversation, one of the respondents said: […] I don’t have a smart phone so am not on WhatsApp or Facebook […] I therefore don’t even receive these jokes you are showing me (Interviewed 2 February 2017).

Lack of Internet connectivity therefore serves as locus of exclusion from participating in digital football fandom. The study shows that often, when statistics on Zimbabwe are discussed, there is a tendency for an uninformed

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celebration culture of mobile phones and Internet penetration in the country. Most of the people in rural Zimbabwe (as observed from Gokwe) still have what they call mbudzi (goat), a popular Shona word for mobile phones limited to text and voice only. This lack of Internet-enabled devices can be explained by a number of factors. Importantly, poverty is the main reason behind this phenomenon. Most of the people in Zimbabwe’s rural areas are not in formal employment and are not involved in income-generating projects. These people are living far below the poverty line. From my experience as a resident of this rural community, the absence of smartphones can also be linked to electricity problems. The government’s rural electrification programme is not yet complete in most rural parts (Gokwe included). Most people in these rural spaces rely on solar energy to (re)charge their mobile phones, and not every household owns a solar panel. Therefore, those with power resources are not always willing to share. On one of my visits home to Gokwe, I paid US$1 to have my mobile phone charged at a Chitekete shopping centre. Due to such challenges, some rural residents prefer mbudzi phones, which have longer battery lives compared to smartphones. Consequently, they lose out on the digital experience. Further. some of the fans/people have smartphones but lack the expertise and knowledge to generate the memes and communicate them to a huge audience. In an interview, one of the participants said: My son in Harare bought me this mobile phone but it’s too complicated for me, I don’t understand it […] Actually am contemplating selling it and buy a mbudzi which is more user friendly […] (Interviewed 3 February 2017).

Having a smartphone does not automatically guarantee one´s participation in virtual spheres such as Facebook and WhatsApp. The dexterity with the mobile device matters most. Some of the participants claimed that they find smartphones intrusive. As argued by Sung (2016), digital literacy is a hindrance to participation of people on online spaces. Digital literacy is the ability to access and use digital devices, such as computers and the Internet (Sung, 2016). Moreover, van Dijk (2013) argues that features of ICT constitute subsidiary factors that affect digital access. When a technology is complex, expensive, multifaceted, or difficult to use, it is likely to lead to general issues related to accessibility (van Dijk, 2013). This paper confirms assertions by Samsudin and Hasan (2017). While studying the Malasyian youths in marginalised communities, the two scholars observed that the Internet engagement of Malaysian youths in marginalised communities spans only basic activities such as communication and uploading and downloading of materials.

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The exclusion of the rural population in the creation and even dissemination of memes can also be accounted for by a continuously deteriorating Zimbabwean economic environment. Since the 2013 Zimbabwean national elections, Zimbabwe has continued to experience serious cash shortages among a host of other economic challenges, and the rural population has not been spared. The majority of people in rural areas are not formally employed, making it difficult to make ends meet. In essence, these people are living far below the poverty line. Mobile Internet bundles are also expensive in Zimbabwe, making it difficult for the rural population to participate actively on online social spaces. Interviewees expressed that buying mobile data was not a priority when they have other pressing issues. ‘How can I buy Internet data when I don’t have a dollar to pay for the grinding meal?’ said one of the interviewees. The failure to receive football memes by Gokwe rural populace also goes beyond Internet connectivity or affordability of data. While some were on social networking sites such as WhatsApp, they still did not receive the memes under discussion. This can be explained by these people’s social circles and networks. These people are at the margins of the network society (see Castells, 2007) because of their physical spatial location. Though ruralurban migration often occurs, not everyone has the opportunity to travel. Thus, geographical location opens and closes the kinds of information individuals might interact with at any given moment. For example, someone who spends a lot of time in rural Gokwe Chitekete is likely to have more contacts in that area. However, those who frequently travel to urban centres and have contacts in such spatial locations have exposure to various online networks and are likely to receive these jokes. With reference to my case, though Gokwe is my ‘original’ home area, most of the time, I am in Johannesburg (South Africa) and urban Gweru (Zimbabwe). Due to my networks, it was easier for me to receive the football jokes while in rural Gokwe during the 2017 AFCON finals. The kind of networks in which one is embeddedis central to the digital participation divide matrix.

Conclusion This chapter complements earlier discussions on the digital divide in sub-Saharan Africa through an examination of participatory cultures in Zimbabwe’s online football fandom. Digital media have opened up unprecedented possibilities for marginalised communities to find a voice, speak up, and overcome the digital participation divide, but the struggle continues in Zimbabwe’s rural areas. Using rural Gokwe as a case study, the

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study shows that there is an unequal distribution of digital participation, specifically in the area of online football fandom. The study shows that the online football fandom jokes that circulated during the 2017 AFCON finals in Gabon, largely resonated with the urban population, excluding issues of structured rural life in Zimbabwe. Thus, the study reflects digital disparities between Zimbabwe’s rural and urban folks. Though Castells (2007) contends that we are in a network society, digital participation of the rural population remains minimal. Due to complex forces, such as infrastructure, technology, economy, power, and social networks, a clear digital divide between the rural and urban population remains evident. For example, people are divided along the quality of mobile devices that is smartphones versus mbudzi phones. Consequently, people’s experiences of the global village differ. It can also not be overemphasised that digital literacy explains the exclusion of the rural population in the creation of fandom jokes.

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Chibuwe, A. (2017). The Nationalist Discourses of an African Ruling Party: An Exploration of ZANU PF Print Media Election Advertisements for the July 2013 Elections (Doctoral dissertation). University of Johannesburg, South Africa. Chibuwe, A. and Ureke, O. (2016). ‘“Political gladiators” on Facebook in Zimbabwe: a discursive analysis of intra–Zimbabwe African National Union ‒ PF cyber wars; Baba Jukwa versus Amai Jukwa’. Media, Culture & Society, 38(8), 1247-1260. Chikafa, R. (2015). ‘Zimbabwean female audiences: Negotiating engendered spaces in the 2010 FIFA World Cup’. In T. Chari and N. A. Mhiripiri (Eds.), African football, identity politics and global media narratives (106-120). London: Palgrave Macmillan. Chiweshe, M.K. (2014). ‘“One of the boys: female fans” responses to the masculine and phallocentric nature of football stadiums in Zimbabwe’. Critical African Studies, 6(2-3), 211-222. Choto, T., Chiweshe, M.K, and Muparamoto, N. (2017). ‘Football fandom, ethnoregionalism and rivalry in post-colonial Zimbabwe: case study of Highlanders and Dynamos’. Soccer & Society, DOI: 10.1080/14660970.2017.1302930 Correa, T. (2010). ‘The Participation Divide among “online experts”: Experience, Skills and Psychological Factors as Predictors of College Students’ Web Content Creation’. Journal of Computer-Mediated Communication, 16(1), 71-92. Daimon, A. (2010). ‘The Most Beautiful Game or the Most Gender Violent Sport? Exploring the Interface Between Soccer, Gender and Violence in Zimbabwe’. In J. Shehu (Ed.), Gender, Sport and Development in Africa: Cross-cultural Perspectives on Patterns of Representation and Marginalisation (1-12). Dakar: CODESRIA. Davies L. (2015). ‘Football fandom and authenticity: a critical discussion of historical and contemporary perspectives’. Soccer & Society, 16(2–3), 422–436. Fletcher, M.F. (2015). ‘“Today You are not a Whiteman, You are a Black man”: Inauthentic Whiteness in Johannesburg Football Fandom’. South African Review of Sociology, 46(1), 47-65. Gambanga N. (2016, 16  March). ‘Latest POTR AZ report shows an increase in Zimbabwe’s mobile and internet penetration’. TechZim. Retrieved 10  August  2018 from http://w w w.techzim.co.zw/2016/03/ latest-potraz-report-shows-increase-zimbabwes-mobile-internet-penetration/ Hargittai, E. (2003). ‘The Digital Divide and What to Do About It’. In J. San Diego (Ed.), New Economy Handbook. Washington, D.C.: Academic Press. Hargittai, E. and Walejko, G. (2008). ‘The Participation Divide: Content Creation and Sharing in the Digital Age’. Information, Communication and Society, 11(2), 239-256. Mabweazara, H. (2015). ‘Mainstreaming African digital cultures, practices and emerging forms of citizen engagement’. African Journalism Studies, 36(4), 1-11.

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Mare, A. 2013. ‘New media, pirate radio and the creative appropriation of technology in Zimbabwe: case of Radio Voice of the People’. Journal of African Cultural Studies, 25(1), 30-41. Morales, J.M.R., Antino, M., Marco, S.D., and Lobera, J.A. (2016). ‘The New Frontier of Digital Inequality. The Participatory Divide’. Revista Española de Investigaciones Sociológicas, 156, 97-116. Muponde, R. and K. Muchemwa (2011). ‘Dictators, disasters, and African Soccer, Reflections of a moment in Zimbabwean Soccer’. African Identities, 9(3), 279-290. Musarurwa, T. (2017, 10 March). ‘Zim access to internet limited’. The Herald. Retrieved from http://www.herald.co.zw/zim-access-to-internet-limited Mutsvairo, B. (2013). ‘Are New Media Technologies Positively Influencing Democratic Participation? Evidence from the 2008 Elections in Zimbabwe’. Global Media Journal African Edition, 7(2), 181-200. Mutsvairo, B. and Sirks, L.A. (2015). ‘Examining the contribution of social media in reinforcing political participation in Zimbabwe’. Journal of African Media Studies, 7(3), 329-344. Mutsvairo, B. (Ed.) (2016). Digital Activism in the Social Media Era. Critical Reflections on Emerging trends in Sub-Saharan Africa. Cham: Palgrave Macmillan. Ncube, L. (2014). ‘“Bora Mugedhi vs bhora musango”: The interface between Zimbabwean discourse and football’. International Review for the Sociology of Sport, 1-18, DOI: 10.1177/1012690213518316. Ncube, L. (2017). ‘“Highlander Ithimu yezwe lonke!”: intersections of Highlanders FC fandom and Ndebele ethnic nationalism in Zimbabwe’. Sport in Society, DO I:10.1080/17430437.2017.1388788 Ncube, L. and Munoriyarwa, A. (2017). ‘See no evil, hear no evil and speak no evil? The press, violence and hooliganism at the “Battle of Zimbabwe”. Soccer & Society, DOI:10.1080/14660970.2017.1399612 Ndlovu-Gatsheni, S.J. (2009). Do ‘Zimbabweans’ Exist? Trajectories on nationalism, national identity formation and crisis in a post-colonial state. Oxford and Bern: Peter Lang AG International Academic Publishers. Norris, P. (2001). Digital divide? Civic engagement, information poverty and the internet in the democratic societies. New York: Cambridge University Press. Papacharissi, Z. (2002). ‘The Virtual Sphere: The Internet as a Public Sphere’. New Media & Society, 4, 9-27. Samsudin, A.R. and Hasan, H.H. (2017). ‘Digital Engagement: A Preliminary Analysis of Marginalized Youth in the Information Society’. Pertanika Journal of Social Sciences & Humanities, 25(S), 77-88. Schradie, J. (2011). ‘The Digital Production Gap: The Digital Divide and Web 2.0 Collide’. Poetics, 39(2), 145-168.

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Sloan, L. and Quan-Haase, A. (2017). The SAGE Handbook of Social Media Research Methods. London: SAGE Publications Ltd. Stuart, O. (1995). ‘Players, Workers, and Protestors: Social Change and Soccer in Colonial Zimbabwe’. In J. MacClancy (Ed.), Sport, Identity and Ethnicity (167-180). Oxford: Berg. Sung W. (2016). ‘A study of the digital divide in the current phase of the information age: The moderating effect of smartphones’. Information Polity, 21, 291-306. van Dijk, J. (2006). ‘Digital Divide Research, Achievements and Shortcomings’. Poetics, 34(4), 221-235. van Dijk, J. (2013). ‘A Theory of the Digital Divide. The Digital Divide’. In M. Ragnedda and G.W. Muschert (Eds.), The Digital Divide: The Internet and Social Inequality in International Perspective. New York: Routledge. Vidacs, B. (2003). ‘The postcolonial and the level playing-field in the 1998 World Cup’. In J. Bale and M. Cronin (Eds.), Sport and Postcolonialism (147-58). Oxford: Berg. Wasserman, H. (2011). ‘Mobile phones, popular media and everyday African democracy: Transmissions and transgressions’. Popular Communication, 9, 1-13. Willems W. (2010). ‘At the cross roads of the formal and popular: Convergence culture and new publics in Zimbabwe’. In H. Wasserman (Ed.), Popular media, democracy and development in Africa (46-62). London: Routledge. Willems, W. (2013). ‘“Zimbabwe will never be a colony again”: changing celebrating styles and meanings of independence.’ Anthropology Southern Africa, 36(1-2), 22-33. Zenenga, P. (2012). ‘Visualising Politics in African Sport: Political and Cultural constructions in Zimbabwean Soccer’. Soccer and Society, 13(2), 250-263.

About the author Lyton Ncube is a Postdoctoral Research Fellow in Communication Studies Department, University of Johannesburg, South Africa and lecturer in the Department of Media and Society Studies, Midlands State University, Gweru Zimbabwe. His research interests are in the Media, Cultural Studies and Sociology of sport. He earned his PhD in Media studies from the University of KwaZulu Natal, South Africa.

7.

The Discourse of Digital Inclusion of Women in Rwanda’s Media A Thematic Analysis of Imvaho Nshya and The New Times Newspapers. Margaret Jjuuko and Joseph Njuguna

Abstract Rwanda has positioned ICTs towards its vision for an all-inclusive society. These tools are critical for empowering women and the youth, the envisaged key participants in the knowledge society. While Rwanda’s news media is replete with stories on the potential transformational effects of ICTs on women, how they represent the discourse on women’s digital inclusion in the Rwandan context has not been explored. Departing from the philosophy that news media routinely affirm the reinforcing dominant public norms and values, this chapter explores how two Rwandan dailies represent the digital inclusion by examining the themes and news sources in ICT stories on women. Findings reveal that the media depict Rwandan women’s digital inclusion as attainable through capacity building, literacy, participation, speed in embracing ICTs, and mindset change. Key words: Rwanda, Women, ICTs, Digital inclusion, Digital divide, Imvaho Nshya, The New Times, Themes, Thematic analysis

Introduction Information and Communication Technologies (ICTs) have virtually transformed livelihoods in communities across the globe. In Africa and in developing countries, ICTs are widely recognised as powerful tools for the socioeconomic transformation of women. ‘They facilitate informed decision-taking and communication among women and other dispersed

Mutsvairo, B., M. Ragnedda (eds), Mapping the Digital Divide in Africa. A Mediated Analysis, Amsterdam University Press, 2019. doi: 10.5117/9789462986855_ch07

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networks and mobilise them to participate in [public debates] [. . .]’ (Macueve, Mandlate, Ginger, Gaster, and Macome, 2009, 21). ICTs have also tackled infrastructural barriers in resource-poor contexts in Africa (Nyamnjoh and Brudvig, 2016). The 2003 World Summit on the Information Society (WSIS) in Geneva positioned ICTs as central to women’s empowerment (Hafkin and Huyer, 2007). Regrettably for Africa and other developing areas, the digital divide still exists. In most of these societies, women are generally marginal users of ICTs (computers, cell phones, social media, Internet, and emails), whereby main users are young males and an insignificant number of elite and relatively young women (Nyamnjoh and Brudvig, 2016; Buskens and Webb, 2009). This presents a gap between the discourse and the reality of women empowerment through ICTs. Rwanda, a landlocked East African country, has made remarkable economic progress over the last 20 years. Despite its significant strides towards an all-inclusive information society, the digital empowerment of Rwandan women remains constrained particularly by sociocultural values, among other impediments (Wamala, 2012). Nevertheless, Rwanda is making deliberate efforts to bridge the gender digital divide through several policies and initiatives to promote and encourage women and the youth to use ICTs for their socioeconomic transformation. The national digital transformation strategies geared at realising this goal are clearly outlined in the National Information Communication Infrastructure (NICI) (see MIGEPROF, 2010). Thus, the NICI informs the various discourses on digital inclusion of women. In a bid to fulfil their public interest mandates, the Rwandan media have reinforced the above initiatives through their news reporting. A review of selected news media outputs reveals substantial coverage of ICT–friendly policies for women. What remains unknown is how the discourse of digital inclusion of women is represented. Departing from the perspective of news media’s habitual performance of an affirmative function in reinforcing dominant public norms and values (Ross, 2010), this chapter engages with a thematic analysis of stories published in two leading news dailies ‒ Imvaho Nshya and The New Times ‒ to identify the prominent themes, the topics of focus, the news sources, and how these issues are constructed. Media studies on gender and the media have often focused on gender representation in media texts/images, audience research, and media ownership and employment. This research focuses on how media, as forms of ICT, represent the women’s digital exclusion discourse in Rwanda. Overtly, media coverage on gender-related issues have been argued to perpetuate

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the dominant discourse on gender and marginalisation widely attested in media and journalism practices (Geertsema, 2010), policy, debates, and similar discourses. In most cases, fact-bearers (sources) are male authorities, or, at least, the powerful, bestowed to represent the dominant ideological discourse and representatives of their institutions (Ross, 2010). The chapter progresses with a brief literature review on ICTs in Rwanda, including the existing strategies and challenges to empower women through ICTs. As this examination also considers the nature of sources drawn on to articulate the discourse of digital inclusion for women, the chapter will also review how dominant mainstream voices are deployed in the media. An outline of the theoretical and methodological approaches adopted precedes the analysis and recommendations.

Contextualising the Digital Inclusion of Women in Rwanda Since the late 1990s, Rwanda has committed to transforming itself into a middle-income, knowledge-based economy by 2020, emphasising ICTs as a cross-cutting priority. The potential of ICT is considered a ‘powerful represent work for bringing diverse stakeholders together to define challenges and find solutions’ (President Kagame, May 2017). ICTs are increasingly relied upon as a crucial means towards social and economic development and growth by broadening their reach, through, for example, high-speed Internet, mobile broadband, and computing (Farrell, 2007). The argument is that ‘expanding these technologies creates growth […] and makes it easier for people to interact and make workers more productive’ (MYICT, 2015, 44). Within this context, policies that accentuate the use of ICT for inclusive socioeconomic transformation, have been developed and implemented in ‘a manner that not only attracts more private investment for ICT infrastructure development, but also enables universal service obligations to be met’ (MYICT, 2015, 44). Plans are in place to provide universal access to Internet infrastructure to facilitate broad-based Information and Communication Technologies for development (ICT4D). In the education sector, Rwanda’s ‘Vision 2020’ prioritises capacity-building for teachers in ICTs (Farrell, 2007). The NICI underscores equipping schools and students with computers, first by lowering the student-computer ratio to at least 10:1 by 2005 (Farrell, 2007). The One Laptop per Child programme (OLPC) launched in 2008, aiming to equip all P4 to P6 pupils with laptops (REB, 2016). Higher educational institutions were also required to make computer studies a compulsory subject. Since 2013, government-sponsored

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students in public universities have also received computers on a credit basis. Despite these initiatives, the success of the computer project in schools is yet to be fully realised, owing to certain challenges. Most schools in the remote countryside, for example, do not have electricity let alone computers and telephone lines. The Smart Rwanda Master Plan 2015-2020 (SRMP) is another ICT4D initiative that aims to provide a platform for increased private sector participation in ICT investment and development, through public-private partnerships (MYICT, 2015). It aims to increase ICT skills among Rwandans to achieve Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs). SRMP specifically focuses on digitising the economy, positioning ICT among the key exports of the country, and contributing to job creation and GDP growth. The role of ICTs to empower women is foregrounded in the SRMP (see SRMP, 7, 17, 21, 23, 50, and 55). Objective seven in particular (SRMP, 23), underscores the promotion of women and youth socioeconomic empowerment through ICT, with a principle objective of promoting the development of ICT applications to increase women’s productivity. Consequently, various initiatives to encourage women and girls to join ICT as a career have been introduced. A Girls in ICT Day, for example, is an International Telecommunications Union (ITU) event during which the best companies and solutions in ICT are shown to high school girls to expose them to the various career paths in Science, Technology, Engineering and Mathematics (STEM) subjects as well as to discuss how rural schools can be empowered to access and use ICTs. ICT awareness campaigns have also been organised by the MYICT in partnership with Girls in ICT in high schools throughout the country. During these campaigns, ICT experts share their own experiences and encourage the girls and young women to embrace ICTs. Techkobwa is a one-week activity targeting high school girls from remote schools (with limited access to ICTs), to acquire basic computing and Internet skills. The activity is spearheaded by Peace Corps with Girls in ICT in partnership with K-Lab, an ICT innovation hub in Kigali, and other stakeholders. Ms Geek Competition is an annual event purposed to inspire creative and innovative solutions to current issues facing the society – through new apps, business ideas, etc. These initiatives demonstrate that girls and young women can also excel with ICTs by building their confidence to compete in the market. The introduction of ICTs into basket-weaving for rural women (2009-2010), proved that rural women can learn to use ICT if the activity that it is applied to is relevant to them (Wamala, 2012). It should be noted, however, that, while Rwanda has been developing national action plans on ICT since

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2001, only recently has the need for women’s participation in the sector been magnified. Other parts of Africa are also advancing in the inclusive adoption and use of ICTs in all sectors. Kenya, Uganda, and Tanzania, for example, acknowledge the power of ICTs to harness the valuable knowledge and innovations that women possess. Consequently, several projects to empower women’s self-help groups through ICT activities have been initiated (see Wamala, 2012 on these initiatives) with successful outcomes. Still, women’s access to and use of ICTs ‒ from the newer ICTs (mobile phones and computers) to the traditional forms (print media, radio, and television) ‒ is still limited particularly in the remotest parts of Africa (Nyamnjoh and Brudvig, 2016). In Rwanda’s efforts to integrate ICT use in all sectors fully, various challenges (mainly structural and cultural) abound. These, according to MYICT (2015, 44-45) include limited awareness of ICT benefits, a low ICT-skilled labour force, and a private sector that has not yet developed an ICT base independent of government and donor funding. As earlier noted, sociocultural values have constrained the digital empowerment of women. Yet, the digital divide in Rwanda is well acknowledged in official discourse, including in the highest office, confirming a commitment to bridge it, as epitomised in the following quote: Access to technology and information must also not distinguish between rich and poor or between urban and rural people. If technology in entrenching divides, rather than equalizing opportunity, then we are not harnessing it well and there will be negative consequences. (Paul Kagame, 2017, 3)

During the first Smart Africa Women Summit held in Kigali in May 2017, which sought to highlight the existing strategic interventions to empower women and girls in ICT, African women leaders pledged to bridge the gender digital divide. These leaders included Rwanda’s First Lady Mrs. Jeanette Kagame; Vice President of Zambia, Mrs. Inonge Mutukwa Wina; UN UnderSecretary General and Executive Director of UN Women, Mrs. Phumzile Mlambo-Ngcuka; Mali’s First Lady, Mrs. Keita Aminata Maiga; and Sao Tome and Principe’s First Lady, Mrs. Nana Trovoada. Mrs. Kagame called for joint efforts to ensure that women and girls are put at the heart of ICT revolution, by creating ‘enabling environments characterised by a better access to and affordability of technology’ (Kigali, 2017).

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Media and the Gender Digital Discourse Ideally, journalism’s paradigm follows a science-like model, wherein ‘reporters gather news and present it without taking a side in the discourse’ (Berkowitz, 2009, 103). Skilled news coverage, however, is argued to go beyond mere reporting of facts, by offering analysis and evaluations to identify gaps or inconsistencies (Berkowitz, 2009). A common trend in Rwanda’s media in reporting gender and ICT-related issues is the plain reporting without giving context to the existing digital divide. For example, one key activity of the inaugural Smart Africa Women Summit, which also paved way for the Kigali Smart Africa Women and Girls Declaration, was the awarding of ‘Miss Geek’ Africa (TNT, 2017). This event prominently featured in media reports but none made an effort to analyse its socioeconomic and political implications to all women in Rwanda. As this study also considers the sources drawn on to articulate the discourse of digital inclusion of women, it is important to understand the extent to which dominant mainstream voices control the information that journalists gather on the subject of digital inclusion and how much chance deprived women, such as rural women, appear in the news on these issues. It has been argued that, when journalists turn to influential and powerful news sources, then those believed to possess authority have a better chance of having a voice in the news (Berkowitz, 2009). Berkowitz contends further that, when high prestige sources appear in the news, the reporter-source relationship tends to legitimate and reify the power structure of society. As the work of journalists is to produce news content that is accurate, statements from prestigious sources may be taken as fact, certifying the news without the need to verify. Examining media representation of digital inclusion of women in a developing context therefore becomes pertinent.

Methodological and Theoretical Underpinnings of Thematic Analysis The study applied an inductive approach underpinned by a grounded theoretical framework (Corbin and Strauss, 2007) to discover themes that emerge from selected stories. We interviewed women and ICT inclusion discourse in the stories to discover general patterns that informed the generation of broad themes and, ultimately, generated a theoretical understanding from the data interpretation. A keen reading of the stories generated conceptual and theoretical ideas informing the broad themes that emerged. Coded

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emergent excerpts were critical to explaining themes that helped to identify the most significant meanings from the stories. In essence, a thematic analysis of such stories served to unravel the patterns or codes that define the meanings and interpretations of the latent and manifest content of the newspapers. The main challenge of this data analytical approach is the lack of empirical support on what amount of data is needed to constitute a theme. Charmaz (2000) advises that such decisions can be left to the researcher’s subjective judgment. Although the themes identified in the following analysis cannot claim to be exhaustive, they together capture an important element of the way the women and ICT inclusion debate was represented in the media. From an interpretative thematic analysis, we explore how two Rwandan dailies, The New Times (English) and Imvaho Nshya (vernacular) represent the discourse of digital inclusion in their news reports. The sample is derived from a corpus of news stories published between January 2015 and January 2017, two years after the launch of the previously discussed Smart Rwanda Master Plan 2015-2020. The New Times was established in 1995 as the first English private daily in Rwanda. Although its editorial policy is not explicit, content tends to be more of informative and educative nature, with an analytical approach to government policies and community interest issues. Imhavo Nshya was established in the mid 1980s as a government daily published in the local dialect. The now online-based paper is biased towards government policies and largely publishes content that aligns with national policies. Both newspapers have sustained a fairly wide circulation and readership for more than a decade (RGB, 2016). Imvaho Nshya is keenly followed owing to its use of the Kinyarwanda language, spoken by all Rwandans. Corpus Selection and Theme Identification The newspapers were accessed online through their website addresses and the Google search engine. The ability of Internet sources to provide ‘global access to low cost and instantaneous volume of online content’ (Illingworth, 2001, 6) ensured easy access to the relevant content in both newspapers. A corpus of all articles on ICTs in the two Rwandan newspapers was targeted. Then, explicit filtering was conducted to identify the dataset of articles that exclusively featured women and technology in Rwanda within the period of study. The key search words on Google search engine included: ‘women and ICTs in Rwanda’, ‘girls and new technology Rwanda’, ‘women empowerment Rwanda’, ‘girls and ICTs Rwanda’, and ‘women and ICT policy Rwanda’.

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A senior linguist at the University of Rwanda, experienced in KinyarwandaEnglish translation, helped to identify the equivalent meanings of the key words or phrases in Imvaho Nshya newspaper. While Rwanda’s strategic positioning of ICTs for national transformation is well documented in the press and policy documents, this research focused only on news articles on women and ICTs. Images found in articles were excluded due to space constraints. The analysis was done in a recursive process involving the researchers’ immersion in the stories to get a deeper understanding of the meanings or patterns which eventually defined themes from the texts. Consistent with Braun, Clarke, and Terry’s (2015) and Corbin and Strauss’s (2007) essentialist and constructionist paradigms, we applied our judgment to derive the codes that defined the main themes. The main themes were therefore derived as they emerged from the selected stories through a careful scrutiny of the data.

Results Overview of the Selected Stories A close analysis of both newspapers produced 22 relevant stories; 14 articles from The New Times (TNT) and 8 articles from Imvaho Nshya (IMV). Details of the story titles are presented in the table below. Table 7.1  Selected Sample Story title Articles from The New Times Empowering women: The Akilah model Ms Geek: The mustard seed inspiring girls in ICT Sibo on how Ms Geek competition opened doors to her dream’ Why women should be at the forefront of digital revolution’ Female students tipped on ICT use, reading culture Girls told to shatter the myth of their capabilities Ten “Imbuto school girls” scoop Indian varsity scholarships Two years later, is University of Rwanda’s College of Science and Technology up to transformation mandate? Digital inclusion is the way to go MTN Rwanda pledges more support to women in ICT

Format

Date

Article code

Feature Feature Feature

28 Jan. 2015 23 April 2015 23 April 2015

TNT1 TNT2 TNT3

Editorial

13 May 2015

TNT4

News News News

09 June 2015 27 July 2015 01 Aug. 2015

TNT5 TNT6 TNT7

Feature

02 Aug. 2015

TNT8

Editorial News

22 Oct. 2015 06 Oct. 2015

TNT9 TNT10

The Discourse of Digital Inclusion of Women in Rwanda’s Media

Story title Africa: How Women Can Leverage ICT to Claim the Front Seat in Transformation Girls urged to use ICT for national transformation’ WDA in renewed effort to encourage girls to join TVET Meet UK’s most influential Science Academy Articles from Imvaho Nshya Abakobwa 29 bahuguwe ku gukora mudasobwa (29 girls trained to maintain computers) Afurika: Umunyarwandakazi muri ba rwiyemezamirimo 30 batanga ikizere’ (Africa: A Rwandan woman among 30 promising ICT entrepreneurs Abagore biga ikoranabuhanga ni mbarwa’ (Women who train on ICTs are rare) (feature story Jeannette Kagame yasabye abakobwa ba Afurika kudasigara inyuma muri ICT’ (Jeannette Kagame urges African women to be part of the ICT revolution) Abaherwe 10 bakiri bato b’ahazaza u Rwanda rufite (Ten rich youths are Rwanda’s future) Ubabasha bw’abagore bukoreshwe (Women capacities should be fully exploited) (opinion story) Jeannette Kagame yasabye ko havaho icyuho mu ikoranabuhanga’(Jeanette Kagame roots for the removal of ICT gaps among women) Imishinga y’ikoranabuhanga igamije iterambere ry’abagore yahembwe (ICT projects for women development recognized)

139

Format

Date

Article code

News

12 May. 2015

TNT11

News News Feature

24 Aug. 2016 01 Dec. 2016 12 Dec. 2016

TNT12 TNT13 TNT14

News

12 June 2015

IMV1

News

19 June 2015

IMV2

Feature

28 June 2015

IMV3

News

21 Oct. 2015

IMV4

Opinion

04 Jan. 2016

IMV5

Opinion

10 March 2016

IMV6

News

13 Jan. 2016

IMV7

News

10 Jan. 2017

IMV8

It is evident from the above table that the print media in Rwanda has inadequately covered the women digital inclusion. Twenty stories in two daily newspapers over the period of two years, is not representative of the importance attached to these issues in Rwanda’s ICT vision, as emphasised in Smart Rwanda Master Plan and other policy documents. While the content of the stories is clear in most of the headings, it is hidden in others. For example, titles in The New Times such as ‘Empowering women: The Akilah model’, ‘Sibo on how Ms. Geek competition opened doors to her dream’, and ‘Girls told to shatter the myth of their capabilities’, may suggest a focus on women empowerment, but not necessarily on their empowerment through ICTs or digital inclusion. Similar representations were also found in Imvaho Nshya, including titles such as: ‘Ten rich youths are Rwanda’s future’ and ‘Women capacities should be exploited’. In addition to missing the focus, these titles are also contradictory to conventional news production discourse, in which

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headings should be presented promptly, and simply to capture or hook the reader’s attention. The reliance on the powerful elite to represent the digital inclusion discourse is also evidenced by the above titles including their high positions and identities – in this case, Rwanda’s First Lady (IMV4 and IMV7 in Table 7.1). Although women were the main story sources in both publications, the authorship of the articles was skewed in favour of men. Only 5 out of the 22 articles came from female authors. This can be seen in the wider Rwandan sociocultural context in which women are rare in the media and their voices largely suppressed.

Prominent Themes A deeper analysis of the content uncovered five key cross-cutting themes in both newspapers including: 1. Women digital inclusion as game changer for development; 2. Multi-pronged approach to digital inclusion; 3. Digital literacy for digital inclusion; 4. Women as role models in digital inclusion and; 5. Demystify barriers to digital inclusion. Digital Inclusion as ‘Game Changer’ for Women’s Empowerment The women’s digital inclusion discourse in several stories represents ICT with descriptors such as the ‘driver’, ‘missing link’, ‘enabler’, ‘panacea’, and ‘opportunity to participate’ for and in women’s socioeconomic development. By being digitally included, the media position Rwandan women as key to Rwanda’s transformation agenda. Women’s exposure to new technology is represented in the context of ´socio-economic emancipation´ where technology allows them to ‘innovate and become more productive’ (TNT11) in their businesses. This ‘technology as driver of development’ philosophy is reinforced thus: For everyone, women inclusive, reaching development in this age and era definitely requires some bit of technology as it is now the driver of almost everything, therefore women need to think and act accordingly. (TNT11)

To exemplify the notion of ‘digital empowerment’, The New Times also depicts successful women who benefited from sponsored ICT courses as having been positioned to take a ‘front seat’ in national transformation to initiate

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their own ICT businesses and also to make decisions about the sector. In the testimony of one entrepreneur, use of ICT has made all the difference in her economic empowerment: I do not think I would have started my business without ICT because most of the work was done through Skype and the Internet. It has helped a lot with my research and implementation of my business (TNT11).

The ‘game changer’ theme is further enhanced by the notion of participation in ICT innovation competitions. This is to encourage women to ‘take up the challenge’ to prove their ‘capability’ according to one source In the feature story (TNT3), one woman’s experience (Vanessa Umutoni) is used as an ‘eye-opener and platform’ for others, since ICT helped her to ‘sharpen her skills for even better innovation and exposure to more opportunities’. The empowering role of digital inclusion for women is concretised in ‘Africa: How Women Can Leverage ICT to Claim the Front Seat in Transformation’ (TNT11). This news story views such inclusion as an ‘opportunity for Rwandan women to engage in online marketing, e-payment to market and sell their products or services beyond physical boundaries’ (TNT11). This theme locates women’s digital inclusion in the country’s broad vision of a knowledge economy by 2020. It also supports scholarly arguments that foreground ICTs as panacea to women’s socioeconomic development (Wamala, 2012). Consider the opinion of the Director General of Rwanda’s Workforce Development Authority on how ICT can be harnessed to realise Rwanda’s vision: The country wants to be an ICT hub, this requires everyone’s involvement to create companies and be the catalyst of development in ICT as the country promotes the ‘Made-in-Rwanda’ programme. (TNT12)

Several articles in Imvaho Nshya were found to represent women participation in ICT-related competitions and trainings as a ‘test of readiness’ for the job market (IMV1, IMV3, IMV5, IMV6). Such events are also framed as ‘door-openers’ for participating women to access jobs, to network, as well as to improve existing innovations or develop new ones. From a sociocultural perspective, participation in ICTs is not only positioned as an ‘inspiration to young girls’ but also helps them to move out of their ‘comfort zones into more challenging fields dominated by men’ (TNT3). Another source portrays the digital inclusion as ‘goodwill’ in the opportunities presented to Rwandan women, thus:

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There are signif icant efforts from both public and private sectors to encourage more girls to study ICT. Women in Rwanda who are interested in ICT, or are already in the field, are in a good position compared to other countries. (TNT11)

The theme of game changer represents the digital inclusion discourse in a positive discrimination manner that favours women, especially the urban elite. These women are well-positioned to participate in ICT-related contests and trainings. Multi-Pronged Approach to Digital Inclusion The study showed that The New Times positions the responsibility for women’s full digital inclusion as a ´joint effort´ by multiple players to develop a critical mass of women and girls in ICT and STEM disciplines: While I believe that schools are key players in inspiring more women to join technology, this should be a collective effort to encourage and inspire women to join STEM. (TNT11)

The media’s repeated allusion to ‘collective responsibility’ in achieving Rwandan women’s digital inclusion also emphasises the globalised nature of the campaign. This runs in tandem with Jeanette Kagame’s view that the drive for digital inclusion of women in Rwanda (and in Africa as a whole) requires ‘all citizens of the world’ to leverage their positions to support all efforts ´to put women and girls at the heart of the current ICT revolution´ (TNT4; see also TNT 11 May 2017). The New Times also identifies these efforts as avenues of creating and enabling ‘future leaders in ICT to reach greater heights’ (TNT9) in support of Rwandan society’s transformation agenda espoused in the National Information Communication Infrastructures (NICIs) through a rollout of several multi-sectoral initiatives (MYICT, 2015). Developing Digital Literacy for Digital Inclusion Both newspapers frame the digital inclusion as achievable through ICT competencies among young girls, akin to ‘sowing a seed and watching it flourish’ (TNT5). Nurturing digital awareness in young girls is viewed essential to ‘tap the ICT talent and interest in women and girls from an early age’ (IMV8). These representations strengthen the discourse of ICT as

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key tools in women empowerment. Developing the digital literacy theme is further reinforced by another source thus: ‘Knowing the basics of using computers, maintaining them and creating new things with them can build the required confidence. This is how I personally grew to love technology’ (IMV8). Personal experiences in news production are often drawn on to appeal to audiences’ emotions and imagines and to create a sense of reality in a given argument (Garrett and Bell, 2001) The newspapers also represent the sustainability of digital literacy by way of ‘technology learning is fun’ wherein the youth interact with ‘technology, trouble-shoot it and innovate with it thereby strengthening their belief in their ability to work with ICTs in the future’ (TNT5, IMV2, IMV4). Here, media seem to suggest that exposure and training are not enough but real inclusion is ‘innovating with the technology’. These representations are aligned to the belief that digital inclusion for women needs to be tangible and need to address their development concerns directly (Buskens and Webb, 2009). While supporting innovation as an expected outcome of digital inclusion, one source in The New Times opined that technology should ‘motivate you [people/readers] to seek more knowledge’ by reading and discovering about new ways of using the technology (TNT5). The New Times uses examples of ICT trainings as ‘avenues of inspiration’ (TNT12) for young girls to appreciate their ability to venture into this domain. Real digital inclusion is also constructed as ‘full exploitation’ of ICTs such as mobile phones that, for example, enable farmers ‘to produce products, press orders, negotiate contracts, and acquire market information’ (IMV8). This runs contrary to an observation in Imvaho that some Rwandan schools that benefited from the One Laptop per Child project ‘prioritised safety and security of the machines at the expense of their full exploitation by students’ (IMV1). Demystifying Barriers to Digital Inclusion Barriers to women’s digital inclusion are sometimes framed as ‘self-inflicted’, as exemplified by lexicons such as ‘technophobia’, technology as a ‘man’s domain’, and ‘self-doubt’ (TNT8). A source in a TNT8 article laments that ‘even though the College of Science and Technology is expanding, there remains a challenge of increasing the number of female students in this field’. That women’s solution to digital exclusion largely resides ‘within themselves’ seems to underpin the dominant gender discourse in media narratives that puts women as followers in men’s footprints (Jemaneh, 2013). In this case, women are urged to take advantage of their ‘innate ability’ to perform

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‘like men’, to be ‘bold enough’, and to take advantage of the advancements in ICT and propel their lives forward and ‘stop doubting their capacities’ (Jeanette Kagame, IMV4). The themes that favour boys’ technological orientation are also evident in the newspapers, where it is suggested that ‘girls are not studying ICTs […] because they are not up-to the requirements of the domain, but that they are inadequately encouraged to pursue such courses’ and that ‘the environment is largely tilted in favour of boys in ICT at the expense of girls’ (TNT14). Girls’ digital exclusion has been attributed to structural and cultural factors (MIGEPROF, 2010; MYICT 2015), where, in most African contexts, girls are considered as good organisers, homemakers, caretakers, and family unifiers. Contradictory to themselves, there are also themes that position girls and women as capable of debunking the myth of gendered technology since ‘active girls have the power to become strong entrepreneurs’ (TNT6) as well as ‘to do greater things […] even better than boys in all disciplines including programming and robotics’ (TNT10). The Director of ICT at MYICT reinforces the equality of women to men in digital inclusion thus: ‘girls have as many ideas as men in using ICTs’ (TNT2). Overtly, the demystifying barriers to women’s digital inclusion theme is largely represented in the context of women’s perceived ‘complacence’ that portrays ICTs as not their domain. Digital Women as Role Models of Future Generations Generally, the news media depict digitally included women as potential ‘role models’ for upcoming generations. The role model construct is given a historic-cultural context where traditionally only few women have fared well in ICTs. Articles foregrounding this representation suggest that, since most Rwandan women in technology ‘tend to be geeky and shy away from the limelight’ (IMV8), young girls do not have enough women to look up to in this sector. To generate interest in ICTs, a source argues that the educated women needed to play a more active role for the next generation: I know that most women need expert role models in technology. These should reach out to girls who are interested to come on board in the technology sector. (IMV3)

In a similar line of argument, another source in the article ‘Girls urged to use ICTs for national development’ (TNT12) argues that the country counts on digitally endowed women to ‘put your skills to good use as you

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go back to your communities […] and ensure that you play a role in national development’. The newspaper implies that this is ‘homework to groom the next generation of women entrepreneurs that will benefit from existing opportunities’ (TNT11). The news story ‘Africa: How Women Can Leverage ICT to Claim the Front Seat in Transformation’ (TNT11), depicts learning from role models as ‘rewarding to other girls’ as shown in the following quote: I believe if girls are inspired and motivated to embrace technology, most especially by those who have reaped big from the field; the journey will be rewarding. (TNT11)

Jeanette Kagame also likened women’s digital inclusion to ‘empowering our young sisters to use ICTs to discover their potential in this digitallyconnected world’ (IMV7). This construct espouses the idea for creating role models for the youth. It also shows that digital inclusion of women bestows on them a higher responsibility to chart the path for future generations. The media’s acknowledgement of very few or no women ICT role models clearly indicates the urgent need for women to harness their efforts to lead the ICT revolution. There are recurring representations, which seem to suggest that giving girls and boys equal ICT decision-making opportunities quickly influences digital inclusion for all. Overall, the five themes can be argued to support Rwanda’s roadmap to achieving a knowledge-based economy and empowerment of women (MIGEPROF, 2010; MYICT, 2015).

Story Sources and their Treatment The discourse on women’s digital inclusion in the selected news articles drew insights from several sources represented in the stories through direct quotes or paraphrased statements mainly obtained through interviews. Sources ranged from (elite) officials (elite), upcoming ICT experts, and entrepreneurs. Voices from the ordinary readers (through opinion stories and letters to the editor) were scarce. In analysing the contributions of sources in the news texts, it was evident from both newspapers that the prominent voices came from the official elite who were also heavily quoted in some instances (e.g. in feature stories). Elite sources included the First Lady; the minister in charge of youth, gender, and ICT; the directors of ICT-related institutions; and ICT unit heads. This

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implies that the ‘women’s digital inclusion agenda’, has mainly been set by opinion leaders in positions of influence. The dominance of official voice in a subject such as ‘technology’ negates the notion of participatory information technology for development where voices of the beneficiaries need to be heard. This supports the argument that that mainstream media dominated by the elite voice perpetuates the elite ideology on an issue through the language they use (Jemaneh, 2013). In Rwanda’s case, the articles analysed seem to suggest that the technology discourse is still controlled by the policy-makers, regulators, and, to a lesser extent, the ones charged with building capacity for it (TNT1). Expert voices were evident in a number of stories that profiled young female start-ups; for example, Iribagiza Clarisse, the proprietor of Hehe Limited, an applications development venture (IMV2); as well as participants in competitions such as Ms. Geek Africa (TNT2) aimed at rewarding women who demonstrate promising ability to innovate through ICTs. In terms of gender representation, the 22 stories analysed in this study present a striking f inding that more than 60% of the quoted sources (including expert and lay) are women, with a clear dominance of women elite as news sources. Where men were featured as sources, these were mainly as heads of ICT units, ministers, and technical capacity development, etc. (see TNT2, TNT6, TNT8, TNT11, TNT12, TNT13, and IMV1). It was common to find some news and feature stories with all-female sources. This was evident especially in Imvaho Nshya, which had more all-female voices in stories than The New Times (see TNT4, TNT10, IMV4, IMV7, and IMV8). Examples of the rewarding effects of digital inclusion also drew from practitioner sources such as female entrepreneurs and winners in ICT competitions. In essence, this gender imbalanced voice in the debate creates an impression that the digital inclusion/exclusion campaign is a women’s prerogative. A deeper analysis of stories revealed that most sources were derived from interviews during major events such as International Women’s Day, Smart Africa Summit, ICT trainings, and other avenues relevant to women and digital inclusion. A few opinion and feature stories sought mixed gender sources for opinions about the main issues behind these major events ( TNT6, TNT11, TNT12. and IMV1). The general representation of voices in the stories paints a picture of a privileged minority (mainly leaders and politicians) leading the discourse of socioeconomic emancipation of women through new technology.

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Conclusion and Recommendations This thematic analysis has uncovered five key prominent themes: ‘Women digital inclusion as game changer for development’, ‘Multi-pronged approach to digital inclusion’, ‘Developing digital literacy for market readiness’, ‘Women as role models in digital inclusion’, and ‘Demystifying barriers for digital inclusion’. The study has revealed how Rwandan media represent ICTs as ‘enablers’ and ‘drivers’ of women’s progress. Participation in digital inclusion is considered as a test of women’s ability to adapt in a rapidly changing environment. However, the media also represent women’s digital inclusion in a way that depicts them as passive and disconnected despite various efforts to include them in ICT activities. Where participation in ICT capacity-building tends to exclude the rural and urban Rwandan women, the media does not adequately highlight this divide. Elite voices generally dominate the stories on the digital inclusion necessitating efforts to address this imbalance. This study thus sets the stage for defining how journalists in Rwanda can meaningfully engage the digital inclusion discourse. To achieve the diversity of voices, the Rwandan media should go beyond policy-makers and prominent sources and reach out to the seemingly suppressed contributions of the majority ICT stakeholders who are rural-based. Engaging with such audiences would encourage them to participate in the decision-making process about ICTs access, adoption, and use. The women digital inclusion discourse will then be well articulated. The imbalanced contribution of stories by gender in this study (only 5 out of the 22 articles were from female authors) underscores the need for increased women participation in ICT reporting. In addition to creating ICT beat reporting, specialised forms of reporting and news desks should be introduced in newsrooms and more women should be encouraged to report on ICTs. Trainings on gender and ICTs in newsrooms and other training institutions could increase the quality and quantity of media reports on these issues. While this research complements theories that relate to the activities of stakeholders interested in shaping the media agenda, with the impact on both the volume and character of news reports about certain issues and ensuing actions (e.g. Berkowitz, 2009; Ross, 2010), issues of women, gender, and ICTs are very broad and complex, and research on them is still thin, hence the need for more research to understand them more fully.

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Bibliography Berkowitz, D.A. (2009). ‘Reporters and their sources’. In K. Wahl-Jorgensen and T. Hanitzschthe (Eds.), The Handbook of Journalism Studies (102-115). New York: Routledge. Braun, V., Clarke, V., and Terry, G. (2015). ‘Thematic analysis’. Qualitative research in clinical and health psychology, 95, 113. Buskens, T. and Webb, A. (2009). (Eds.). African women and ICTs: Investigating technology, gender and empowerment. Pretoria: Unisa Press. Charmaz, K. (2000). ‘Grounded theory: Objectivist and constructivist methods’. In N.K. Denzin and Y.S. Lincoln (Eds.), Handbook of qualitative research (2nd ed., 509-536). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Corbin, J. and Strauss, A. (2007). Basics of qualitative research: Techniques and procedures for developing grounded theory (3rd ed.). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Farrell, G. (2007). ´ICT in Education in Rwanda: A Survey of ICT and Education in Africa: Rwanda Country Report´. Rwanda. Retrieved 29 June 2018 from www. infodev.org Kagame, J. (2017, 12 May). First Lady Mrs. Jeannette Kagame’s remarks at the ‘Smart Africa Women’s Summit’ during the Transform Africa Summit Kigali. Retrieved 25 May 2017 from http://www.imbutofoundation.org/IMG/pdf/ first_lady_s_speech_smart_africa_women summit.pdf. Garrett, P. and Bell, A. (2001). ‘Media and Discourse: A Critical Overview’. In A. Bell and P. Garrett (Eds.). Approaches to Media Discourse (1-20). Oxford: Blackwell. Geertsema, M. (2010). ‘Challenging the lion in its den: Dilemmas of gender and media activism in South Africa’. Ecquid Novi: African Journalism Studies, 31(1), 68-88. Hafkin, N.J and Huyer, S. (2007). ‘Women and Gender in ICT Statistics and Indicators for Development’. Information Technologies and International Development, 4(2). Retrieved 28 June 2018 from http://www.orbicom.uqam.ca/projects/ddi2005/ index_ict_opp.pdf. Illingworth, N. (2001). ‘The Internet Matters: Exploring the Use of the Internet as a Research Tool’. Sociological Research Online, 6(2). Jemaneh. A. (2013). Representation of Gender in Newspaper Narratives: The Case of Ethiopia. Tromso, Norway: The Arctic University of Norway. Macueve, G., Mandlate, J., Ginger, L., Gaster, P., and Macome, E. (2009). ‘Women’s use of information and communication technologies in Mozambique: a tool for empowerment?’ In I. Buskens and A. Webb (Eds.), African women and ICTs: Investigating technology, gender and empowerment. Pretoria: Unisa Press. Ministry of Gender and Family Promotion – MIGEPROF. (2010). Rwanda National Gender Policy. Government of Rwanda, Kigali.

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Ministry of Youth and ICT – MYICT (2015). Smart Rwanda Master Plan: Towards a Knowledge Based Society Kigali, October 2015. Nyamnjoh, F. and Brudvig. I. (2016) (Eds.). Mobilities, ICTs and marginality in Africa: South Africa in comparative perspectives. Capetown: HSRC Press. REB. (2016). Rwanda Education Board. One Laptop Per Child. Retrieved 7 May 2018 from http://reb.rw/fileadmin/default/templates/2016/ONE_LAPTOP_PER_CHIL. pdf. Reisigil, M. and Wodak, R. (2001). Discourse and Discrimination: Rhetorics of Racism and Anti-Semitism. London: Routledge. Ross, K. (2010). Gendered media: women, men and identity politics. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield publishers. RGB – Rwanda Governance Board (2016). Rwanda Media Barometer. Retrieved 28 February 2017 from http//www.rgb.rw/fileadmin/publications/rwanda_media_barometer_2016-final _pdf Scheufele, D.A. and Tewksbury, D. (2007). ´Framing, agenda setting, and priming: The evolution of three media effects models´. Journal of Communication, 57(1), 9-20. TNT–The New Times (2017, 11 May). ´ICT should bridge, not deepen divides – Kagame´. TNT No. 4305, Kigali. Wamala, C. (2012). Empowering women through ICT. Spider – The Swedish Program for ICT in Developing Regions ICT4D Series No. 4. Stockholm University.

About the authors Margaret Jjuuko is an Associate Professor affiliated with the School of Journalism and communication, University of Rwanda (UR), where she teaches journalism, media and communication studies. Her research interests are in media texts and reception analyses in East African contexts, with reference to environment journalism and communication, gender and social justice and political communication, as well as in media ethics and cooperate communications. Margaret holds a PhD and Masters of Arts degrees in Journalism and Media Studies from Rhodes University, South Africa; a Bachelor of Mass Communication degree (Honors) from Makerere University, Uganda; a Certificate in Television Production for Education and Development, BBC Open University, UK; a Certificate in University Teaching from Carleton University, Canada, and several other professional training. Dr. Jjuuko has taught and consulted on a number of media training and developmental projects in Uganda, Rwanda, South Sudan, Kenya, Tanzania, Burundi and Southern Africa (Lesotho, SA, Swaziland, Zambia and Namibia).

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Joseph Njuguna is lecturer and Acting Dean of the School of Journalism and Communication at the University of Rwanda. His current research interests are in media convergence, media education and policy, textual analysis and development communication. Joseph is a Phd in Mass Communication candidate at the Jomo Kenyatta University of Agriculture and Technology, Kenya. He has wide experience in media training, consultancy and policy development in the East African region (Rwanda, Uganda, Kenya and South Sudan).

8. The Digital Divide and Film Beschara Karam Abstract We live in an increasingly visual world that is saturated with images, so individuals need to be equipped with the visual ‘skills’ necessary to participate in this digital, image-dominated world. Visual literacy, as defined by Elkins, describes ‘how people perceive objects, interpret what they see, and what they learn from them’ (cited in Beier, 2013, 38), and is therefore essential if we expect individuals to meet the demands of this contemporary ‘visual moment’ (my term). However, visual literacy is not simply about decoding images, it is also about producing meaning (Fortuna, 2010, 11). The visual is also progressively being recognised as ‘a pervasive and highly influential catalyst for cultural change’ (Beier, 2013, 39); and academics suggest that images are no longer predominantly used only to illustrate or entertain (Felten, 2008; Beier, 2013; Freedman and Stuhr, 2004). Furthermore, film discloses political, economic, cultural, social, and ideological ways of being. Therefore, access to films, and cinema theatres, is vital if we expect individuals, within the complexities of the 21st century, to transcend the digital divide. Thus, I would like to present, as a point of departure, with regards to the scholarly debate on the digital divide, that the lack of access to films and cinema theatres greatly disadvantages individuals and, as such, needs to be addressed. Keywords: Film, Digital Divide, Political, Visual, Africa, Textual Analysis

Introduction This chapter uses the textual analysis of several African films to reflect on the inequalities of the digital divide in Africa. These filmic case studies seek to educate, raise consciousness, and critically reflect on the negative societal and individual effects of the digital divide. In Africa, this digital

Mutsvairo, B., M. Ragnedda (eds), Mapping the Digital Divide in Africa. A Mediated Analysis, Amsterdam University Press, 2019. doi: 10.5117/9789462986855_ch08

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divide is along race, gender, and class lines. The chapter does not look at the African film industry per se, which falls outside the purview of this chapter. Films, as texts, are important sources of understanding, describing, interpreting, and reflecting social behaviours, realities, norms, values, and ideologies (cf. Bainbridge, 2013; Bauer, Bicquelet, and Suerdem, 2014; McKee, 2002). In addition, film, from its inception, ‘has been a great medium of reflection of the socio-economic and political changes of the society. Films have an immense potential to project the images of a society in a way that conventional mediums never could’ (Yadav, 2014). Analysing filmic texts therefore aims ‘to explain the life-world within which the text is embedded’ (Bauer, Bicquelet, Aude, and Suerdem, 2014, 1). Textual analysis (interpretivist and hermeneutic) is therefore ideal in analysing these purposefully selected filmic texts, which reveal the adverse effects of the digital divide for those living in Africa. The films detail the lived socio-realities and the economics of those marginalised by lack of access to up-to-date technology, or lack the know-how, to traverse this technology. The ‘digital divide’ is a very commonplace phrase and is generally used to describe the technological inequalities between the ‘haves’ and the ‘have-nots’. These inequalities are structured along predominantly economic (class) lines, which, in Africa, is also structured along race lines, due to postcolonialism and apartheid, and their current (circa 2017) legacies. This chapter argues for film – or the inaccessibility of film ‒ to be a part of the debate on the digital divide. Films can address, or help transcend, the digital divide. Films are a way of educating (Giroux, 2002, 2004; Giroux and Shannon, 1997); ‘conscientising’ (Deleuze, 1986, 1989); and conveying or ‘revealing’ (to borrow Deleuze’s term) politics, political ideologies, and socio-economics. Drawing from the latter, film can also shed light on the politics of technology and the digital divide. Films can inform, educate, conscientise, and even revolutionise the audience about the importance of technology, the uses of social media platforms for reform; further, films can be used as a form of activism (as an agent of change, which is particularly important in South Africa right now, because it is experiencing a decolonial turn). Films are a way to overcome technophobia, to question power relations, and to question hegemonic ideologies. How technology is represented or seen to be used in films can inform audiences of just how important access to technology is in order to improve their lives, to empower and to educate them. However, this is further complicated in a country such as South Africa, where access to films and film theatres is just as limited as access to data and technology, due to very similar constraints: the expense of theatre tickets, inaccessibility of cinema theatres, and lack of resources.

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The lack of electricity, for example, also makes Public Broadcasting Services, such as eTV and the South African Broadcasting Commission (henceforth the SABC) inaccessible. Furthermore, pay-per-view, such as Mnet/DsTV is also too expensive. Owning a smartphone is in all likelihood out of the question, and, therefore, so is access to Google Play (‘movies’), YouTube, Showmax. or Netflix.1 Access to each of these platforms are structured along race and class lines. The chapter first aims to look at how films educate the audience in terms of cinema literacy (or cinéliteracy) and the representation of technology. Cinéliteracy, for the purposes of this chapter, is defined as the ability to analyse and interpret the moving image (in this case, feature films). This includes identifying and interpreting themes and motifs, characterisations, plot and narrative structures, and basic cinematography techniques (such as closeups versus aerial shots, the use of black and white or different colour saturations, the use of subtitles, dramatic conflicts, music, and camera movements). Ultimately, cinéliteracy educates viewers in order for them to communicate effectively through the use of language and/or symbolic and visual codes. It also educates viewers in terms of how one can make sense of the world as an interrelated set of systems and by being able to identify different cultural and aesthetic sensitivities across different socio-realities (Latter, Gabriel, and Brighton, 2006, 6-8). Secondly, this chapter looks specifically at the works of Gilles Deleuze (1986/1989), who argues that films can ‘conscientise’ the audience on relevant political issues (such as how the digital divide disadvantages the marginalised); and that all films are political (Deleuze, 1986/1989). The chapter will focuses on African feature films as examples, with a specific emphasis on Sink (Innes, 2016), Ayanda (Blecher, 2015), and Vaya (Omotoso, 2017). According to Massimo Ragnedda and Glen W. Muschert (2013, 24, 27) and Jan van Dijk (cited in Ragnedda and Muschert, 2013, 27), the digital divide is defined as ‘unequal access to and usage of the digital sphere’ and is directly tied to ‘the concept of social inequalities’ (cf. van Dijk and Hacker, 2003). Not 1 There is only one cinema complex situated in a township, Soweto. The majority of South Africans who do not have access to such cinema complexes can, if they can afford it, watch films on screened or pay-per-view DsTV, or make use of Netflix or Showmax. However, DsTv is extremely expensive, and townships often do not even have electricity. Showmax and Netflix are similarly out of the reach of the majority as, not only do you have to pay a subscription fee, but you also need to be able to pay for data. Films are screened on PBS, but they are dated. Again, only if one has access to electricity does this become accessible. Many students from rural areas and impoverished backgrounds see a feature film for the first time only once they get to university.

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only is the divide measured in terms of lack of access, but also in terms of the skills, or lack thereof, to use the Internet (Ragnedda and Muschert, 2013, 28) but they also identify ‘nuances’ to this divide, which need to be studied (such as gender, and to which I add, in the case of this chapter, cinéliteracy). The use of the Internet, or lack thereof, results in ‘digital prof iciencies [which] create new inequalities’ (Giu and Argentin, 2011 cited in Ragnedda and Muschert, 2013, 28). Most studies of the divide are linked specifically to socioeconomics, even if in a very nuanced way, from alienation to the spamming of social media users (cf. Lauer, 2008). Ultimately, as the many contributing authors to the edited book entitled The digital divide. The internet and social inequality in international perspective, conclude, the digital divide is complex: it has links to social inequalities; it is directly and indirectly linked to politics; it limits democracy for some cultures, countries, and communities; and it affects the public sphere and the final outcome of politics. As an example for the latter, only those with access to digital tools and skills can contribute in any meaningful way to political debates and the ever-changing landscape of the digital public sphere; in other words, the digital divide marginalises the already marginalised as lack of access further silences those on the periphery. Furthermore, the digital divide entrenches or re-entrenches economics in terms of access and opportunities, made available only to those who have access. With regards to digital literacy and education or ‘M-Learning’, authors Melanie Ciussi, Gill Rossner, Marc Augier, and Gabriele Suder (2011) conducted empirical studies in which they hypothesised that M-Learning ‒ including access to podcasts and other Web 2.0 technologies, such as blogs, social networking sites, Blackberry, and even Wikis ‒ wouldprovide a ‘blended’ and far superior form of learning and ‘interactivity’ in combination with traditional classroom learning. They posited that this combid learning would result in more student interactivity, and would ultimately improve the learning experience. Their results, however, clearly contradicted their hypothesis. Despite almost every student owning a cell phone, very few of them used them for educational purposes, electing to use their limited access for social purposes, especially as their access would not allow for both social and learning use. The students prioritised their relationships/friendships. In my own experience at a distance learning education university, the results, while only anecdotal, support their findings: if students have a choice between spending their data on educational support or for personal use, they seldom choose the former. In the instances in which exciting podcasts have been uploaded for our students, their responses have been somewhat less than ecstatic, with the majority of students asking for the

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PowerPoints instead: the podcasts are simply too expensive to download or to watch repeatedly. Verdoodt, Rutten, Soetaert, and Mottart (2010, 520, 521) argue that their role as educators begins with the premise that individuals ‘construct meaning by representation’, with film as one of the most important tools of meaning-making and representation. Many diverse disciplines employ film to teach everything from globalisation and international communication, to sociology and international politics (MacDonald, 2010). For example, Lynn Kuzma and Patrick Haney (2012, 34-37) use film to teach United States foreign policy, with the argument that films stimulate the senses, transform abstract concepts into concrete ones, engage spectator emotions, create connections for viewers to the past, and advance student learning. Others have used film to teach business ethics (Berger and Pratt, 1998); history (Corbitt, 1998; Stoddard, 2010); genocide and Holocaust studies (Corbitt, 1998; Neuhaus, 2010); religion (Wellman, 2009); law, media, and popular culture (Klein, 1997); and politics (Jarvis and Han, 2010). Film is no longer viewed as a mere ‘illustrative use of images’ but as a principle source of understanding and knowledge production/creation that constructs reality, rather than merely mimicking reality(ies) (Verdoodt, Rutten, Soetaert, and Mottart, 2010, 522). We live in an increasingly visual world that is saturated with images, and individuals need to be equipped with the visual ‘skills’ necessary to participate in this digital, image-dominated world. Visual literacy, as defined by Elkins, describes ‘how people perceive objects, interpret what they see, and what they learn from them’ (cited in Beier, 2013, 38), and it is therefore essential if we expect individuals to meet the demands of our contemporary visual and digital world. However, visual literacy is not simply about decoding images, it is also about producing meaning (Fortuna, 2010, 11). The visual is also progressively being recognised as ‘a pervasive and highly inf luential catalyst for cultural change’ (Beier, 2013, 39); and academics suggest that images are no longer predominantly used only to illustrate or entertain (Felten, 2008; Beier, 2013). Rather, they are essential to communication and how we make meaning of our world. It is also a form of communication that provides a ‘means of enhancing the kinds of observational, analytical and critical thinking skills that are assumed to be fundamental to successful learning’ (Shifrin, 2008, 108). Visual literacy is thus a strategy for this, equipping individuals to participate in a digital and highly visual world as both producers and consumers of the visual. Nicholas Mirzoeff (1999, 6) further claims that the visual is ‘a place where meanings are created and contested’. Films are a vital component of this digital,

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visual world. Individuals therefore need to learn to ‘read’ and interpret filmic visuals, thereby learning how images ‘work’ as a means of making sense of their environment, in order to join in with this ‘contestation’, and to interrogate and innovate. Furthermore, film discloses political, economic, cultural, social, and ideological ways of being. Therefore, access to films2 and cinema theatres is vital if we expect individuals, within the complexities of the 21st century, to transcend the digital divide. Visual culture demands that students be capable of differentiating between objects, icons, symbols, and images, all of which they will inevitably encounter in the world. They must multitask within diverse visual mediums, from texting and social networking, to watching music videos, YouTube, and vodcasts. Despite the pressures of globalisation, modern society has become linguistically and culturally diverse. These processes are directly linked to the multiplicity of media and telecommunication channels (Verdoodt, Rutten, Soetaert, Mottart, 2010, 519), and students must be prepared for ‘civic pluralism and diversity to cope with the multiple life-worlds of this new context’ (The New London Group, 1996, 72). Grierson (1936/1946, 139), a seminal author in the field, writes of the educational potential of film: In f ilm […] we have an instrument much more suited to the specif ic purpose of education than any other of the arts. It really can bring the outside world alive to the growing citizen. It really can extend his (sic) experience. It really can serve an interpretive function.

Cultural studies emphasise that film is not only ‘education through pictures’ but ‘education in pictures’ (Depaepe and Henkens, 2000, 15). Film is pedagogical in the sense of teaching about the digital divide, socioeconomic inequalities, globalisation, and social media platforms. It is not merely about deconstructing films politically, or about learning about film production techniques. Rather, film´s pedagogy is about situating politics, socioeconomics, and world views within a broader set of relations that addresses what it might mean to construct the means of individual and social agency, thereby enabling and encouraging independent and critical thought, and permitting 2 Not only is the digital divide broadened by the lack of access to films, but another aspect of the digital divide comes into play. Film is no longer f ilmed with ‘old-school’ technology; celluloid is considered outdated and f ilms are shot with digital cameras, as well as edited, manipulated, and ‘put together’ on computers. These films can no longer be screened using pre-digital technology and many cinema theatres are struggling, even today, with making the transition from celluloid projector to digital projector.

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viewers to become active and useful members of their communities. In other words, to be educated as to the advantages access to technology provides and the disadvantages when access to technology is limited. In addition to this, films also are a means of empowering individuals by providing them with a technological vocabulary, for instance, how social networking sites (Twitter and Facebook) and other Web 2.0 technologies are used in everyday life. Additionally, films provide audiences with a theoretical vocabulary, such as consumerism, capitalism, and globalisation, and insight into how these concepts intersect with access to technology, provided you are on the ‘correct’ side of the divide. There are numerous films that deal with the various threads of the digital divide. These films also show that technology and the access to technology is based along class and race lines: technology is ‘white’ while the lack of technology is ‘black’ (cf. Hobson, 2008). Thus, film as an educational tool can ‘couple’ with the audiences’ own personal narratives and interpretations and encourage them to question this normalcy and the unequal power relations that exist to ‘power’ this normalcy.

Gilles Deleuze and ‘Conscientising’ There are two relevant ideas for the discussion on the digital divide and film that I have appropriated from philosopher Gilles Deleuze. The first is that film ‘conscientises’ an audience; and, secondly, that all films are political. Philosopher Gilles Deleuze wrote two seminal works on film and philosophy, entitled Cinema 1: The Movement-Image (1983/1986) and Cinema 2: The Time Image (1985/1989), respectively. In these groundbreaking works, Deleuze introduces a new philosophy centred on a unique concept, that of ‘cinematographic consciousness’ or ‘film consciousness’ (1989). This philosophy seeks to understand and explain how film is able to produce new ideas that change how the audience interacts and perceives the world. Through this philosophy of his, he argues that screen, or virtual worlds created therein, interpose all elements of things in these virtual worlds as well as those elements off-screen. Deleuze describes it thus: ‘A theory of cinema is not “about” cinema, but about concepts that cinema gives rise to and which are themselves related to other concepts corresponding to other practice, […]’ (1989, 280). In other words, films ‘conscientise’ their audiences about issues contained within the virtual world and the context that gave rise to the making of the film. Cinema is therefore a very specific medium which engages in political commentary (Deleuze, 1986, 1989). Once the

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film is produced and screened, the elements or images, in their new form, a specific film, then become producers of other systems: they give rise to other and different concepts in perpetuity. Deleuze sees the cinematic body as a social, living system (1986, 59). It is multidimensional and open-ended: as it encounters other systems, it generates an infinite number of outcomes or concepts. For example, take the film Imbabazi (‘The Pardon’, Karekezi, 2013), a Rwandan film made about the aftermath of the Rwandan genocide (1994) of ethnic Tutsis. It centres around the friendship between a perpetrator, Manzi (Okuyo Joel Atiku Prynce), and his best friend, Karemera (Wilson Egessa). Manzi was imprisoned for his crimes against humanity, but, on his release, he has to face the psychological and emotional consequences of his most personal and aggrieved crime: he murdered his best friend’s entire family. According to Deleuze, once an audience is made aware of the Rwandan genocide, they will be able to relate it to other genocides, such as slavery and the Holocaust. As such, the film has created an infinite number of outcomes and related concepts. In this case, for instance, the themes of reconciliation, trauma, guilt, and accountability can all be related to that of genocide.

Gilles Deleuze ‒ All Films are Political According to Deleuze’s claim that all films are political (1989), he suggests that a film is created and situated within a specific political culture that inscribes the most abstract of ideas. Cinema has the potential to develop, provide, and facilitate political expression. Deleuze argues that cinema is the political media of the 20th century (1989). According to Deleuze’s cinéphilosophy that all films are political, however, films are not all political in the same way (cf. Kaklamanidou, 2013, 2016; Rodowick, 1994; Wayne, 2001). Very generally speaking, all films represent an ideology(ies) of some kind, often in conflict with other contending ideologies. However, according to Deleuze, exactly what constitutes a ‘political’ cinema will vary according to cultural specificity. For Deleuze it is not cinema that turns towards politics ‒ it is not a purposefully ideological choice ‒ but rather it is cinema itself that politicises things, or events. In other words, these directors did not set out to make films about political issues, but through the image-story, these political events or situations are made apparent. They were secondary to the narrative, and only through a reading or interpretation of the films are the ‘politics’ of race, sex, and capitalism made apparent. Deleuze further explains that cinema can entrap and theorise political knowledge (1989,

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175); it provides a cinematic form for the political positions of a culture or era. These films are what Deleuze refers to as the ‘theatricalisation of the everyday’, and the politics are not told, but revealed (1989, 196-197). This is very different from a film that is made about politics: where the intent, narrative, and themes are political in and of themselves. Films that fall into this latter category include films that have been politically overt with a specific ideological stance, such as the anti-apartheid films made in South Africa in the 1980s and early 1990s, such as The Stick (1988) and On the Wire (1990). Both of these films deal with the border wars between Angola and South Africa during apartheid. More recently, Shepherds and Butchers (2016) is also an example of an overtly political film; it is about conscientious objectors and the death penalty in South Africa during apartheid. All these films have memory, trauma, and war as their central themes and they are all overtly political. Other films reveal the technological divide as the ‘theatricalisation of the everyday’ (Deleuze, 1989, 196-197), where socioeconomics as well as the technological socio-realities are not told; rather, the politics of the divide are revealed. Such a film includes Brett Michael Innes’s film Sink (2016, international release: Rachel Weeping, Afrikaans subtitles). The film is set in modern-day, post-apartheid South Africa, and tells the story of Rachel Nyaga (Shoki Mokgapa), an immigrant from Mozambique, who works for the Jordaan’s. Michelle Jordaan (Anel Alexander) is asked to look after Rachel’s young daughter for the morning. Distracted by a phone call, the little girl falls into the swimming pool and drowns. Rachel therefore has to decide: return to war-torn, poverty-stricken Mozambique, or continue to work for the family. Facebook, Twitter, emails, smartphones, tablets, and laptops feature heavily, indicating constant and immediate access, opportunities, and employment, but only for her white employers, not for Rachel. When Rachel wants to call home, she has to take several taxis to find a call box. Her alienation and loneliness are made more apparent when she cannot simply text someone, or email or Skype a friend, when she is so desperately unhappy. She is completely cut off from her family and friends and the expense of calling long-distance combined with the cost of having to spend money on taxi fare makes this digital divide even more obvious. The socioeconomics and the socio-realities are also latently political: her employers pay for her daughter to attend the local, prestigious school, but the other mothers there are not aware that she is a domestic worker and mistake her for an affluent black woman. When her daughter is invited to a birthday party she has to decline, as she is ashamed that they might find out her true (lower-class) status. The fact that Rachel continues to work for the family after her daughter dies in the care of her

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employer makes her economic situation clear: she has to endure and live side-by-side with the woman who neglected her child, simply so that she can continue to earn a salary, most of which is sent back to her family in Mozambique. It also highlights the desperation of migrant workers who flee their devastated countries for better places to live and work. Another such film, in which the sociopolitics are ‘revealed’ is Ayanda (with the alternative name: Ayanda and the Mechanic). Directed by Sara Blecher and written by Trish Malone (2015), it is a coming-of-age romantic drama set against the backdrop of Yeoville, and other locations in the industrial hub of Johannesburg. It is set in the relatively ‘new’ South Africa (circa 2015; democracy started in 1994 with the election of Mandela). The story centres around Ayanda (Fulu Moguvhani), who has inherited her father’s auto repair garage, after he died prematurely eight years earlier. Ayanda desperately tries to make the garage a success, and prevent foreclosure, by buying banged-up cars such as an antiquated Karmann Ghia and refurbishing them for auction. She works in the garage with her boyfriend, David Oluwole (O. C. Ukeje) and another mechanic known as Zoum. The plot thickens when her uncle Zama (Kenneth Nkosi) needs to sell the garage to pay off his debts to the South African Revenue Service (SARS) for outstanding tax. When the garage is robbed (which, unknown to Ayanda, was staged by her uncle Zama) and the close of the garage imminent, Ayanda’s boyfriend David (from the Niger Delta), turns to crime to get the tools and car parts needed for the latest refurbishment. David was also offered a scholarship to study a Human Rights degree at the University of the Witwatersrand (WITS), Johannesburg, but he gives up his placement, so that he can assist Ayanda to reach her dream. The garage is finally sold, but Zama has a change of heart and decides he cannot take the money. As a result of this, he cannot pay SARS the money he owes them, but he accepts his fate and is imprisoned for tax evasion. Ayanda uses the money to post bail on David after he is arrested, when she realises how much she loves him. There is another story being told, however. Lenaka (Jafta Mamabolo), Ayanda’s brother, uses a handheld camcorder, as well as a photographic camera, to record and interview, as well as photograph, the individuals that make up this vibrant community. He calls himself ‘The Expressionist’ and he seeks to discover what it means to be African in a contemporary (circa 2015) South Africa. He therefore records and photographs men and women from all over Africa, such as Mozambique, Nigeria, and Ethiopia, capturing their stories of how they came to South Africa and how they see themselves. The film itself is very artistically created, it integrates the handheld footage and photographs from Lenaka to create the narrative and, in between

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all the traditional filming, the still shots from his photographs, his handheld documentary-style footage, and stop-motion animation is interjected. These stop-motion animated mini mis-en-scenes reflect the stories of the characters that Lenaka interviews. These scenarios have trees, buildings, roads, plantations, and mountains made out of beautiful African cloth. How these Afropolitan Yeoville community individuals view themselves and the questions of migrancy, xenophobia, and identity are a constant motif throughout the film. Not only with regards to Lenaka’s ‘documentary’, but also as part of the main storyline. For instance, at a family gathering, a family member comments negatively on the fact that Dorothy (Nthati Moshesh), Ayanda’s mother, married Moses, a foreigner (from Lagos, Nigeria). He pairs that comment with the fact that both of their children, Ayanda and Lenaka, have not received any tertiary education (as opposed to his own children who have been to university). This implies that, not only did Dorothy choose a ‘foreigner’ to marry, but, as a result, their children are uneducated and stupid. In another scene, David introduces Ayanda to his cultural food, showing her how it is eaten. At the small eatery, he bumps into his brother, who he confronts. He later explains to Ayanda that his brother has fallen in with a ‘bad crowd’. David wants to transcend the stereotype of the illegal immigrants or migrants that turn to crime, and wants to pursue his dream of studying at WITS to become a human rights attorney. Despite this, he puts Ayanda and her dreams first and, in doing so, withdraws from WITS, and steals the necessary car parts to remake old cars. Another very strong motif in this film is that of gender roles. Ayanda’s mother is proclaimed to be an ‘entrepreneur’; she owns her own laundromat where she also does clothing repairs. When Ayanda asks her about her father Moses, and their dreams, Dorothy reveals that she had great plans, which included franchising the auto-repair shop, so that it was easily accessible in townships and also affordable to the new up-and-coming black middle class. However, she dismisses these dreams as fantasy and says that survival is more important than dreams. Despite this, she owns her own business, does her own books, and looks after, not only her own children, but also the daughter of her recently deceased sister. She is economically independent, a hard-working bread-winner, and the head of the family. She is also realistic and pragmatic when it comes to monetary and business matters. This is apparent when she finds practical flaws in Ayanda’s scheme to make ‘instant’ money by refurbishing old cars. Ayanda herself is also strong-willed and independent, her artworks an extension of her quirky fashion style and free spirit. Her plans to make the garage a success speak to her own desire to be economically autonomous; she is not interested in the typical feminine

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dreams of finding a husband, settling down and raising children. While Ayanda loves David, she sees them as partners, and she is not dependent on David for anything. In terms of cinéliteracy, the film uses many different techniques to showcase the narrative and individuals therein. The different camera techniques, such as the stop-motion animation, as well as the interweaving narratives (Ayanda’s individual story and Lenaka’s ‘expressionist’ photographic project) also provide exposure to a different way of filming and conveying stories (meta-narratives). There is the slickly told Ayanda story, juxtaposed with the ‘natural’ documentary-style (handheld camera) and photographic (via still photographs) stories of the Yeoville individuals. It raises consciousness on issues of race, gender roles, national and personal identity, migrancy, and xenophobia. Another film that instructs, raises awareness, and reveals politics, is Vaya (Omotoso, 2017). It is based on the real-life stories of three characters, who are strangers to one another, but their life stories intersect. They are homeless writers and they all belong to the Homeless Writer’s Project (a real-life project which was created to provide a space for ‘invisible stories’ to be told). All three individuals, on which these stories are based, contributed to the writing of the script. The three main characters are: Zanele (Zimkhitha Nyoka), Nhlanhla Sihle Xaba, and Nkulu (Sibusiso Msimang). The film is set in Johannesburg’s ‘City of Gold’ and, unknown to one another, the three characters travel there on the same train, at the same time, but never actually meet. Zanele accompanies a young girl to reunite her with her mother; Nhlanhla travels to meet his cousin, Xolani (Warren Masemola), who has promised him a job; and Nkulu goes to acquire his deceased father’s body for burial. In terms of cinéliteracy, there are three interweaving characters with different narratives, which then intersect, although the characters never meet one another. Plus, there are stunning aerial shots of the different suburbs, such as Houghton and Alexandra, and realistic, closeup camera shots of grimy, dirty Hillbrow and Soweto. The ‘god’s-eye view’ aerial shot of a landfill is devastatingly juxtaposed with, directly thereafter, immediate closeups of the desperate individuals sifting through the landfill’s garbage ‒ cinematography from ‘heaven’ to ‘hell’. Once again, the sharp contrast between the haves and have-nots is apparent. There are also references to the technical divide; for example, when the mother of Zanele’s charge was not at the designated meeting point, Zanele is completely at a loss. She makes herself and her charge an easy target by asking strangers for directions and begging to use a landline, as she does not have a mobile

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phone. Individuals notice immediately that she is vulnerable, with no knowledge of the city and nowhere to stay. She is not able to call or text anyone to assist her. Zanele cannot Google directions, or even places to stay, or call anyone else for help. Partly because of this, it sets a terrible course of action with devastating consequences. It emphasises the divide between the haves and the have-nots. One poignant scene that epitomises this is when Xolani takes Nhlanhla to a landfill where there are impoverished people digging in the trash for ‘treasure’ to sell. They are literally sifting through filth and garbage to find something, anything to sell. Vaya conscientises the themes of human trafficking, illegal abortions, gangsterism, alcohol abuse, and poverty. It is ultimately a story of one’s own humanity and the universality of humanity. Similarly, Necktie Youth (Shongwe-La Mer, 2016) educates and conscientises, but from a vastly different lens. This film is an intimate and uncomfortable view into the so-called ‘gilded youth’ of South Africa’s post-apartheid generation, or the ‘born-frees’. The director positions the city (Johannesburg) and the youth in an existentialist and nihilist crisis. The film starts with an affluent young white girl who hangs herself from a tree in the massive garden of her expensive family home, while live-streaming her suicide. She chooses the anniversary of the violent and devastating Soweto Youth uprising of 16 June 1976. The film is therefore a contrast between apartheid and what the youth (black) endured then and what the youth (black and white) of the story, the post-apartheid generation, endure. Drugs, promiscuity, and suicide are major themes, and the film, while shot in black in white, features ‘memories’ in softer colour hues. These childhood memories are from a time during what South Africa called the ‘Rainbow Nation’ (coined by Archbishop Desmond Tutu). A time of great euphoria, hope, and reconciliation, during which victims and perpetrators (after the Truth and Reconciliation Hearings, circa 1996), young and old, black and white believed that apartheid was banished for good and the future was bright with equal opportunities and came to be termed: ‘rainbowism’. This is the ideological belief that all are equal, and all will fight against discrimination and racism (Gachago and Ngoasheng, 2016). This has since become known as a myth because white privilege still exists, and racism is still embedded structurally and institutionally. In terms of cinéliteracy, the film makes use of sped-up camera techniques ‒ showing night-time traffic on the highways at blinding speed, with their car lights a bright stream. The effect is dizzying. Camera techniques are also used to show a young character high on drugs, with the walls moving, causing a feeling of discombobulation and slight nausea. It also includes the use of

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subtitles (English, Afrikaans, and Zulu). The film conscientises in terms of rainbow-ism, Soweto uprisings, drugs, capitalism, and consumerism. Chappie (Blomkamp, 2015) a science-f iction f ilm, is also set in postapartheid Johannesburg. The Johannesburg depicted in Chappie, however, is a vastly different Johannesburg, where riots and crime have escalated to such an extent that the police cannot cope. It is a dystopian future in which the South African government has had to buy robotic scouts to reinforce the police squads. The film is ultimately about artificial intelligence and a scientist’s (Deon, played by Dev Patel) quest to create a robot that can think and ‘feel’ for himself (Chappie). While the film’s main story deals with criminal heists, it also showcases that the latest technology is owned by a company called Tetravaal. Tetravaal is a corporation that is headed by whites and made up of scientists who are all predominantly white (apart from one). This corporation uses technology to build autonomous androids that suppress citizens, help militarise the police force, and use excessive force to bring ‘order’ to South African society. The film juxtaposes the haves with the have-nots: the leafy, green, opulent suburbs of Sandton and Houghton are juxtaposed with the filthy inner cities of Hillbrow, Brixton, and Berea, which are filled with squatters living in abandoned buildings without any amenities. The film aligns advanced technology with whites, a technology that is militaristic, organised, efficient, imperial, and autocratic. Conversely, the black characters (Nigerians and the mostly black police force) are associated with criminality, violence, ineptitude, and inefficiency. The film politicises science and technology along racial lines. One more film worth mentioning is Thina Sobabili (‘The Two of Us’, Nkosi, 2015), which is internationally renowned, won at the African Diaspora International Film Festival and Danny Glover’s Pan African Film Festival. This drama is set in Alexandra township, Johannesburg. It tells the story of Thulani or Thulas (Emmanuel Nkosinathi Gweva) and Zanele (Busisiwe Mtshali), siblings who have been raised in a violent family. Because of this, Thulas has promised to protect his sister, after witnessing her abuse firsthand. But Zanele enters into a relationship with an older, married man (Skhalo, played by Richard Lukunku), which Thulas finds disturbing. This film focuses on the ‘sugar daddy’ phenomena in South Africa, or the men who are called ‘blessers’: when older men have relationships with teenage girls or young women, and ‘bless’ them with gifts, such as the latest mobile phones, and other forms of financial security, without marrying them (Gonzalez, 2016). Alexandra is also directly adjacent to the wealthy Sandton/ Houghton suburbs, the geographical landscape of the opulent versus the overcrowded township, highlighting the divide of the wealthy and poor,

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those with prospects and those without. The cinematography is also used to emphasise this divide by alternating aerial shots of Sandton with those of Alexandra. The film educates and conscientises in terms of ‘blessers’, the harsh socioeconomic conditions in townships, and domestic abuse. Although this chapter focuses on the textual analysis of purposely selected African films in order to highlight the digital divide and the effects thereof; with regards to promoting filmmaking skills, there have been several initiatives. As early as 2008, emerging scholar Sekitla Daniel Makhasane attempted to draw attention to the benefits of Microsoft’s Windows Movie Maker, which allows individuals to make films from still images/pictures and sound clips (Makhasane, 2008). Using this technology is obviously a much more accessible (and cheaper) way of creating and producing films. Since then, several initiatives, mostly from the government and nonprofit organisations have established labs or centres to facilitate or offer training in a variety of e-skills, including those that deal specif ically with f ilm production. For instance, the National Electronic Media Institute of South Africa (Nemisa, 2016) has created ‘Living Labs’, or ‘Creative CoLabs’ where researchers address issues of the digital divide and ICTs, with real users in a real-life environment. They hold workshops and boot camps dealing with a wide variety of related topics, such as media technology (the MediaTech Project), the digital economy (e.g. how small businesses can overcome digital inequalities, such as expensive data), and e-skills (policy-makers and rural agriculture). Another project of theirs is e-literacy, in association with CoLab partners, Solar Capital Training Centre. They bring e-literacy training and related opportunities to the community of De Aar, where they are based. Lastly, one of the most successful CoLab deals with new media skills training and includes film and television production and operations in their training, including pre-production planning and management (Nemisa, 2016). One of the participants, Dimakatso Langa, was appointed to direct and produce a film called The Gift, which was then broadcast on DSTV (in collaboration with Maxisky Media). Similarly, the Western Cape Government has an initiative, at the I-CAN CENTRE, where there is a film booth and editing equipment. With this initiative, individuals can also participate in a variety of portfolios, including digital literacy; women, ICT, and entrepreneurship; gaming; coding; and film and television production. It even has a recording studio. There are different types of memberships, but the organisation offers free and paid-for courses that range from basic literacy skills to more complicated video and production skills. To sum up, all of these films educate, conscientise, and politicise. They have shown how the visual, symbolic, and language(s) (dialogue) are demonstrated

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in different modes. They have emphasised how the world is made up of a set of interrelated systems and diverse contexts. And they have depicted a wide range of different cultures and aesthetics across vastly dissimilar social contexts. They have showcased different cinematic literacies: from camera techniques to characterisations and the use of subtitles. They have conscientised in terms of gender, human rights, social justice, xenophobia, race, and class. They also highlight the fact that cinema has ‘constructed a racial ideology about technology’ by associating blackness within a discourse as unsophisticated and ‘primitive’, while whiteness is associated with ‘progress’, technological advancement, and ‘civilisation’ (Hobson, 2008, 111). To this, I add that whiteness is also associated with political and economic agency, political power, globalisation, individual agency, ownership, and affluence. While added to the ‘primitive’ discourse as identified by Hobson (2008), blackness is also connected to Africa, dependency, and the lack of personal and political agency. These films also mythologise the belief that digitalisation and its link to globalisation is making the world smaller, and that individuals are able to transcend disadvantages such as race, class, and economics simply by being connected. That might be the case, but lack of access precludes true transcendence from occurring (cf. Hobson, 2008; Fusco, 2001). The imagery in many of these films, whether they are pro-technology or anti-technology, show imperialism, capitalism, consumerism, colonialism, and Western-centric domination at the centre of power, while the rest are still marginalised and powerless. These films use visual codes and narratives to enforce a discourse on the digital/technological divide that is racialised, culture-specific, Western, and imperial. In conclusion, globalisation, economics, politics, education, and even the decolonial turn sweeping through (South) Africa at the moment (circa 2017), all demand that individuals be completely proficient in digital and visual literacies. Further, the economic and racial stratif ication of the divided classes demands to be bridged. Cinematic visuals can be used to reimagine, reconceptualise, subvert, educate, challenge, and even decolonise by providing individuals with specific visual and digital skills. But it is only the ‘haves’ that have access and can use these visual skills accordingly. These films, while only a very small, purposeful sample, include representations of digital technology that are created around racial, cultural, political, economic, and social hierarchies that impose, appropriate, and (re)colonise knowledge, knowledge construction, ownership, and agency. As such, the lack of access to films via Public Service Broadcasting, pay-per-view television, and cinema theatres greatly disadvantages individuals, and therefore needs to be included as part of the larger digital divide debate.

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Bibliography Bainbridge, J. 2011. ‘Tools 3: Textual analysis and media research’. In J. Bainbridge, N. Goc, and E. Tynan (Eds.), Media and Journalism: new approaches to theory and practice (224-237). South Melbourne: Oxford University Press. Bauer, M.W., Bicquelet, A., and Suerdem, A.K. (Eds.). 2014. Text analysis. London: Sage. Beier, J. 2013. ‘Visual literacy and the untimely transmogrification of the problem’. Visual Arts Research, 39(1), 35-51. Blecher, S. (Director) (2015). Ayanda. South Africa: ARRAY. Berger, J. and Pratt C.B. (1998). ‘Teaching business-communication ethics with controversial films’. Journal of Business Ethics, 17, 1817-1823. Blomkamp, N. (Director) (2015). Chappie. South Africa: Columbia Pictures. Bouzid, L. (2015). As I open my Eyes (“À peine j’ouvre les yeux”). Tunisia/France: Blue Monday Productions and Propaganda Production. Ciussi, M., Rosner G., Augier M., and Suder, G. (2012). ‘M-Learning and Y Generation: the reality behind the myth’. In D. Parsons (Ed.), Combining E-Learning and MLearning: New Applications of Blended Educational Resources (266-280). Hershey, PA: IGI Global. doi:10.4018/978-1-60960-481-3.ch017. Retrieved 29 September 2017. Corbitt, J.C. (1998). ‘Au revoir to film illiteracy: An interdisciplinary exploration of Au Revoir Les Enfants’. English Journal, 87, 83-87. Deleuze, G. (1983/1986). Cinema 1: The movement-image. H. Tomlinson and B. Habberjam (Trans.). Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press. (Original work published 1983.) Deleuze, G. (1985/1989). Cinema 2: The time-image. H. Tomlinson and B. Habberjam (Trans.). Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press. (Original work published 1985.) Depaepe, M. and Henkens B. (2000). ‘The history of education and the challenge of the visual’. Paedagogica Historica, 36(1), 11-17. Felten, P. (2008). ‘Visual literacy’. Change, 40(6), 60–64. Fortuna, C. (2010). ‘Lights, Camera! Action! A grammar of film for media literacy’. Knowledge Quest: Film in Education, 38, 10-23. Fusco, C. (2001). The bodies that were not ours and other writings. New York: Routledge. Gachago, D. and Ngoasheng, A. (2016). ‘South Africa’s “rainbow nation” is a myth that students need to unlearn’. The Conversation. Retrieved 20 November 2017 from http://theconversation.com/south-africas-rainbow-nation-is-a-myth​ -that-students-need-to-unlearn-66872 Giroux, H.A. (2004). ‘Pedagogy, Film, and the Responsibility of Intellectuals: A Response’. Cinema Journal, 43(2), 119-127. Retrieved from http://www.jstor.org/stable/1225923 Giroux, H.A. (2002). Breaking into the movies: Film and the culture of politics. Malden, MA: Blackwell.

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Giroux, H.A. and P. Shannon (Eds.) (1997). Education and cultural studies: Towards a performative practice. New York: Routledge. Gonzalez, L.L. (2016). ‘#AIDS2016: “Blessers” are the engine behind the rapid spread of HIV in young women’. Mail & Guardian. Retrieved 20 November 2017 from http://bhekisisa.org/article/2016-07-18-aids2016-new-study-confirms-blesserrolein-hiv-epidemic-among-young-women Hobson, J. (2008). ‘Digital whiteness, primitive blackness. Racializing the “digital divide” in film and new media’. Feminist Media Studies, 8(2), 111-126. I-CAN CENTRE. (2018). ‘An initiative of the Western Cape Government’. Retrieved 5 May 2018 from https://i-can.org.za/ Jarvis, S.E. and Han, S.H. (2010). ‘Teaching citizenship: Student-led documentary film projects in the communication classroom’. Communication Teacher, 24(1), 35-42. Kaklamanidou, B. (2016). The ‘disguised’ political film in contemporary Hollywood. A genre’s construction. Oxford: Bloomsbury. Karekezi, J. (Director) (2013). Imbabazi (The Pardon). Rwanda: Karekezi Film Production and Ndolo Films. Klein, C. (1997). ‘Legal realism: Is learning law and ethics from flicks a farce?’ The NationalLaw Journal. Kuzma, L.M. and Haney P.J. (2001). ‘And . . . Action! Using Film to Learn about Foreign Policy’. International Studies Perspectives, 2, 34-37. Latter, G., Gabriel, I., and Brighton, S. (2006). Forgiveness. It’s not only about the truth … Filmscript and filmstudy. South Africa: Oxford University Press. Lauer, J. (2008). ´Alienation in the information economy: towards a Marxist critique of consumer surveillance´. In N. Carpenter and B. de Cleen (Eds.) Participation and Media Production: Critical Reflections on Content Creation (41 – 56). Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. MacDonald, B.L. (2010). ‘Genre films as cultural pedagogy: The enduring myth of star-crossed lovers’. Knowledge Quest: Film in Education, 38(4), 41-48. Makhasane, S.D. (2008). ‘Windows Movie Maker and the teaching of history’. Yesterday & Today, 3, 106-117. McKee, A. (2002). Textual analysis. A beginner’s guide. London: Sage. Mirzoeff, N. (1999). An introduction to visual culture. New York: Routledge. Mitchell, W.J.T. (1995). Picture theory: Essays on verbal and visual representation. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Mitchell, W.J.T. (2008). ‘Visual literacy or literary visualcy?’ In J. Elkins (Ed.) Visual literacy. New York: Routledge. Nicholson, B. (2016). Arab cinema after the Arab spring. Retrieved 5 May 2018 from http://www.bfi.org.uk/news-opinion/sight-sound-magazine/comment/festivals/ arab-cinema-after-arab-spring Nemisa. (2016). E-Skilling the nation. Retrieved 5 May 2018 from www.nemisa.co.za

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Neuhaus, J. (2010). ‘“Shake this square world and blast off for Kicksville”: Teaching history with post-WWII prescriptive classroom films’. History Teacher, 44(1), 35-50. New London Group. (1996). ‘A pedagogy of multiliteracies: Designing social futures’. Harvard Educational Review, 66(1), 60-92. Nkosi, E. (Director) (2015). Thina Sobabili (‘The Two of Us’). South Africa: The Monarchy Group. Omotoso, A. (Director) (2017). Vaya. South Africa: Gauteng Film Commission. Ragnedda, M. and Muschert, G.W. (Eds.) (2013). The digital divide: The internet and social inequality in international perspective. Oxford: Routledge. Rodowick, D.N. (1994). The crisis of political modernism. Criticism and ideology in contemporary film theory. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Roodt, D. (1989). Jobman. South Africa: Blue Rock. Roodt, D. (1988). The Stick. South Africa: Distance Horizon. Proctor, E. (1990). On the Wire. South Africa: National Film and Television School. Schmitz, O. (2016). Shepherds and Butchers (aka The Hangman: Shepherds and Butchers). South Africa: Distant Horizon and VideoVision Entertainment. Scott, T. (1998). Enemy of the State. United States: Touchstone Pictures. Shifrin, S. (2008). ‘Visual literacy in North American secondary schools: Artscentered learning, the classroom and visual literacy’. In J. Elkins (Ed.), Visual literacy (105-128). New York: Routledge. Shongwe-La Mer, S. (Director) (2015). Necktie Youth. South Africa: Urucu. Stoddard, J.D. (2010). ‘More than “showing what happened”: Exploring the potential of teaching history with film’. High School Journal, 93(2), 83-90. Verdoodt, I., Rutten, K., Soetaert, R., and Mottart, M. (2010). ‘Film choices for screening literacy: the “Pygmalion Template” in the curriculum as contact zone’. Journal of Curriculum Studies, 42(4), 519-538. Retrieved 29 September 2017 from https://www.learntechlib.org/p/106461/ Wayne, M. (2001). Political film: the dialectics of third cinema. London: Pluto Press. Wellman, J.K. (2009). ‘The Matrix as sacred canopy: Teaching theory in religion’. Teaching Theology & Religion, 12(2), 141-150. Yadav, R.M. (2014). ‘Cinema serving as mirror to society’. International Journal of Multidisciplinary Approach and Studies, 1(3), 141-150.

About the author Beschara Karam is an Associate Professor of Communication Studies at the University of South Africa. She received her PhD from the same university. She is interested in decolonial theory in its applicability to film studies in South Africa.

9. Digital Divide or Information Divide Interrogating Telecommunication Penetration Measurements in Communal African Societies Chika Anyanwu Abstract This research uses the sociocultural theories of Asuwada and Ubuntu to argue that communities in Africa have strong communication protocols which affect how people communicate and relate with one another, and that these relationships affect the instrumental approach to communication, and therefore the way information technology penetration should be defined or understood. I argue that information technology penetration in Africa should be measured through an African communal lens rather than through a Western individualistic lens, and that the Western individualistic lens should not be used to measure the level of development in African communities. Communication platforms such as the Internet, mobile phones, and many others have been used to enhance existing social and cultural structures. This research argues that, in African societies, there is still a huge dependency on human interface. Keywords: Asuwada, Ubuntu, Africa, Communication, African, Digital, Western

To address the above issues, I use Asuwada and Ubuntu theories to define African communal social structures, and how these structures engender important social capital, which in themselves are part and parcel of communities’ communication protocols. I also propose alternative technologypenetration measuring instruments for communal societies, by referencing an adaptation of Pareto principles. To demonstrate how Asuwada theories apply in communal communication contexts, I used the 2011 and 2015 Nigerian Presidential elections as case studies. Finally, the paper ties these

Mutsvairo, B., M. Ragnedda (eds), Mapping the Digital Divide in Africa. A Mediated Analysis, Amsterdam University Press, 2019. doi: 10.5117/9789462986855_ch09

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together by making recommendations on how an understanding of communal structures can help in the success of future developmental projects.

Background Lack of understanding of the complex communal structures in African communities have impacted the ability of Western agencies and intellectuals to identify appropriate analytical tools to measure telecommunication penetration in Africa. I therefore focus on explaining these communal social structures and their social capital values as a way of creating an understandable framework for future research and policy analyses of the continent, with respect to information technology adoption and application. Through such an understanding, it is hoped that we will be in a better position to recalibrate how telecommunication penetration is understood in African communities such as Nigeria. Data and media coverage of regional or communal societies, especially in Africa, have often been flawed or merely been used to consolidate negative stereotypes of technological backwardness. For example, according to International Telecommunication Union, ICT Facts and Figures (2016), ‘while almost 75% of people in Africa are non-users of the Internet, only 21% of Europeans are offline’. In an earlier study (Anyanwu, 2013), I argue that social networks such as Facebook, Twitter, etc. operate in communal and kinship systems similar to traditional African communication systems. In these traditional societies, conversation is the central element. It is open communication. There is an efficient information flow from traditional elders to members of the community because respect for hierarchy is part of the norm. Similarly, today’s information platforms operate like traditional conversations. There are hierarchical norms in their operational protocols such as technical and administrative hierarchies. They also operate in every cultural space. We can therefore say that social media is not new, but what may be new is either the time in history when a particular society or culture consciously embraces itself, or, when such a society develops the technologies that enable them to embrace each other as part of a cultural space where people can engage in open conversation with one another. We can liken this to Habermas’s public sphere, where cultural and normative values are espoused, debated, and updated. Unlike individualistic societies, communal societies do not require huge and complex information technology to penetrate their geographical and

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cultural spaces, because every member of the society is a communication instrument by default. The structure of communal societies is already an effective communication network system based on social capital and kinship. Research shows that such kinship structure promotes a sense of love, value, belonging, and identity through strong, continuing, family ties (Burgess, Rossvoll, Wallace, and Daniel, 2010, 298).

Theoretical Framework In Australia, rural communities are often defined through the dividing line between outback, physically isolated communities, and mainland cities, with major urban infrastructure. However, those who live in rural communities or ‘bush’, define themselves with a sense of pride and community, celebrated by dwellers who understand and appreciate the challenging, rugged, ecological landscape that helps them to build common goals, resilience, and sustainable human communication bonds. Similarly, in African countries, rural communities are defined by natural affiliation to the land, family bloodlines, and compound structures based on such linage. Traditional African societies, especially in Nigeria, live in natural communities. By natural communities, we look to Ferdinand Tönnies’s Gemeinschaft, in which people have direct face-to-face relationships with each other, and which help form the social nature and ideals of the individual (Tonnies and Loomis, 1957, 14). This form of communal territory is rooted in the soil, a coexistence of mutual interdependency, or a special place where theory and the real world come together (Lyon and Driskell, 2011, 4). Tönnies argues that, for the continuity of such close knit societies to survive, there needs to be a sustainable balance between birth and death. Societal continuity can be maintained through biological, sociological, and psychological means. In other words, these are based on people’s ability to procreate, as well as their possession of religious beliefs, sense of place and community, and values (Katz, Rice, Acord, Dasgupta, and David, 2004, 304; Ferdinand, 2010). This need to procreate and exist is achieved through sustainable communication built through kinship relationships. Any form of communication or technology that threatens such survival instincts would hardly succeed in communal societies. With such established communal networks, information technology penetration would only play a catch-up role rather than lead the conversation. Communal societies in Africa can be better understood from Akiwowo’s sociological theory of Asuwada (myth of creation). In these communities,

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individuals are composite units of a family, and the family (Ajobi), is the first and smallest unit in society (Ajogbe). In this society, the individual is indivisible from its family unit in pro-cocreation. In other words, communal societies depend on each other for survival, and the group is stronger than the individual. In Southern Africa, communities can also be understood from the Zulu concept of Ubuntu, whereby ‘each individual’s humanity is ideally expressed in relationship with others’ (Mabovula, 2011, 40). These close communal societies leverage their existence through collective resilience and coopetition practice. By coopetition, we imply a system in which people collaborate in order to compete against common threats collectively. It is therefore important to note that such a communal society with shared values will resist or frown upon any individualistic approach to its communication protocols. Asuwada is a concept which emphasises contextual relationships between social beings who make valuable contributions to social survival, and community integration and development (Omobowale and Akanle, 2017). It therefore looks at the indivisible tie between the body resident and the community of residence. It acknowledges the implications of social deviance in such a communal relationship. There is a social expectation from all to associate or coexist by internalising and rightly exhibiting socially approved communication codes which promote community values and engender community survival and development, because failure to adhere to such relationship endangers the community. The deviant is therefore a bad child (Omoburuku in Yoruba language), while the one who conforms is a good child (Omoluabi). Similarly, the philosophy of Ubuntu espouses a fundamental respect in the rights of others, as well as a deep allegiance to the collective identity. More importantly, Ubuntu regulates the exercise of individual rights by emphasising sharing and co-responsibility, and the mutual enjoyment of rights by all (Mabovula, 2011, 40). Akiwowo uses Yoruba mythology and belief systems to describe the importance of community and its correlation to societal wellbeing. It also explains why a depraved society can only be corrected by looking back at the family unit that make up its citizenry. Akiwowo discusses how belief systems are linked to the economic outlook of such society (Akiwowo, 1986, 344). He believes that many communal societies ‘such as the Igbo, Kikuyu, Yoruba, and Zulu, for example, are indeed complex, highly developed societies. In these societies, their belief systems which include myths and rituals, are more advanced than mere subsistent existence’ (Akiwowo, 1986, 345). Their co-creative relationships are able to build strong social capital. The complexity of these social structures makes it difficult to understand the

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interrelations between the individual, their community, and social capital and economic development. Similarly, these structures make it difficult for an outsider to understand the importance of communal interaction as life, compared to information technologies, which have the tendency to disrupt such organic essences. ‘There exists therefore a symbiotic relationship between the individual and their community. Without the contribution and participation of constituent individuals, the community becomes void, and likewise, the community gives meaning to an individual’s being’ (Omobowale and Akanle, 2017, 45). ‘The history of a person’s life is the story of his or her transactions with the community’s material and moral worlds […] This is a social contract in which an individual’s choice of way of life is a choice constrained by the community’s pursuit of shared ends’ (Mabovula, 2011, 38). As we can see, these shared values are similar to social media networks. Members of such networks see themselves as co-participants in the creation of such a social network, and are also defined by their participation in such a network’s identity. Likewise, as communication technologies are aimed at creating a social space for sharing common ideals aimed at developing both the individual and community, in African communities, they are not, and should not be measured on an individual ownership basis, but rather as part of communal ownership because the community is the organic locus of participation. The imposition of ubiquitous information technologies has the potential to challenge the organic gene and psychological composition of natural communities. According to Tönnies, ‘in so far as machinery dispenses with muscular power, it becomes a means of employing labourers of slight muscular strength, and those whose bodily development is incomplete, but whose limbs are all the more supple’ (Tonnies and Loomis, 1957, 167). We can infer that telecommunication intrusion without proper understanding of existing social structures runs the risk of measuring information penetration by technological penetration, which has the potential to weaken established social networks of communal societies. I argue that, while information technologies could help transfer communal social structures from their physical space to online or virtual spaces, such transformation does not necessarily translate into effective participatory communication. The flaw in current measurement of telecommunication penetration, especially in African countries, is that it focuses on calculating the number of people in a community who have access to digital technologies, rather than focus on understanding how different communities share information, and how such sharing structure influences and dictates the type, or number of

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technological applications that such communities would require to achieve optimum social service effectively, without displacing the organic structure of their community. In any communal society, the uptake of information technology straddles what Bridger and Alter (2006) refer to as the relationship and trust between people, their place in the community, and social capital, which is a byproduct of such a relationship. In other words, regional and communal societies are often conflicted between maintaining their sense of identity within their communities, and the need for expanded economic development and growth through the adoption of ubiquitous technologies which link them to the outside world. This dilemma between communal identity and economic development places a sense of loss on some members of communal societies, who feel that the ideal physical community (Gemeinschaft), is being lost and replaced by an imagined or ephemeral society (Gesellschaft). Emphasis on economic growth is also one of the key drivers in using information technology numbers to measure penetration in rural and communal societies. Unfortunately, such economic rationalism fails to factor in the intangible assets generated by communal social capital. For example, the research of Glynn (1986) used Benjamin Disraeli’s novel, Sybil (1845), which talks about the loss of ‘communities through the dispersal of Monasteries, and the rise of industrialisation with its urban migration, identified three possible reasons for the decline of sense of community in Western societies’: industrialisation, the growth of centralised bureaucratic governmental structures, and maintenance of an improper balance between local and centralised structures (Glynn, 1986, 342). While it could be argued that industrialisation enabled developmental mandates such as technological infrastructure in rural or traditional cultural communities, it also played a huge role in the destruction of sense of natural communities (Matarrita-Cascante and Brennan, 2012, 298). Although our sense of natural community is challenged in today’s technological society, Glynn believes that it is still possible ‘but not from a community located in a specific place […] but in a plurality of intersecting communities’ (Glynn, 1986, 343). This new community involves intersection of different ethnic groups, who are physically separated, but connected through social infrastructures such as telecommunication services rather than family or bloodlines alone. In his analysis of Akiwowo’s sociological principles, Makinde (1988, 68), also states that societal breakdown stems from industrialisation, which pitches local economies against international economies. Such upheaval leads to physical separation of blood relations, and the need for people to

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depend on strangers rather than family members for help. Current social media platforms are examples of such external dependencies and pseudofamily formations, which act as surrogate replacements for blood relations or communities. By strangers, Makinde also includes financial institutions, psychologists, donor agencies, and institutions outside one´s family networks. Such extensions of family relationships and dependency to people from unknown geographical locations through information technologies leads people to adjust and often compete for attention. In Asuwada principles, competition, envy, and conf lict become rampant when success is internationally promoted. Such conflict and competition lead to the destruction of family (Ajobi), and the formation of co-residence (flatmates) (Ajogbe), based on friendship or social affiliation (Ore), rather than bloodline. We can relate Akiwowo’s Asuwada theory to Ferdinand Tönnies´s distinction between Gemeinschaft and Gesellschaft (community and society). As a result of industrialisation, Makinde (1988, 69-70) posits that there is no more family line in human relationships, but only coexistence (Alajogbe). It is therefore important to be cautious about how information technology penetration, as an offshoot of industrialisation, is used to measure development in African communal societies, where human agency still plays an important role in communication and relationships. Garrison (2009, 445) warned that ‘technological resources alone, are unlikely to provide organisations or communities with sustained competitive advantage. They need to develop capabilities to better sense and respond to new technological developments’. We should therefore be asking what sort of technological capabilities a community needs, and how such capabilities would enhance existing social capitals. Flora (1998, 483) says ‘as a rural sociologist, I take as given that social capital ‒ and social behaviour in general ‒ is embedded in social structure’. By this, she claims that ‘embeddedness perspective is the idea that community members are expected to contribute to the group while receiving benefits’ (Flora, 1998, 484). This form of social capital and its embeddedness can be seen as part of regional and communal civic life cycles rather than a conscious exchange economy. This aligns with Akiwowo’s theory analysed above. Flora cited the work of Robert Putnam (1993), who inferred that communities are not civic because of their wealth; instead, their wealth is a result of becoming a civic community. This form of embedded social capital is not based on individual reciprocity or an exchange economy, but more a civic economy. Flora (1998, 488) believes that Durkheim’s ‘collective representations,

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which are strengthened by group members engaging in rituals that hone a group ethic’ is a more balanced approach to defining social capital. This could also be aligned with Akiwowo’s Alajobi concept in contrast with the Alajogbe concept (family versus society). As defined above, Asuwada theory emphasises contextual relationships between social beings who make valuable contributions to social survival, and community integration and development (Omobowale and Akanle, 2017). This is also resonates in the Igbo language term igwe bu ike (the power of collective). While Akiwowo’s theory is a good starting point to understand interrelationships between people in communal societies, the complexity of Africa as a continent, and even Nigeria as a multicultural and religious country, makes the universalisation of Akiwowo’s theory contested. Notwithstanding, it is important to note that a community’s composition and way of life are defined by their communication and hierarchical structures, which enable them to carve their economic future and developmental policies.

Communal Social Capital versus Information Technology Penetration In my previous work cited above (Anyanwu, 2013), I referred to communal networks, especially among the Igbo people of Nigeria, as predating contemporary social media platforms. In this society, decisions are made through cascading age grades, starting from the eldest to the youngest. It is based on a hierarchy of wisdom, defined by age, initiation, and seniority. Elders act as custodians of knowledge and history. The younger generation hierarchically attain status through observation and proven qualities. In this community, everybody knows everybody and looks after each other. Information is shared among members on a need-to-know basis, determined by the secularity or sacredness of such information. Through age groups, people share ideas and challenge each other, connect with each other for life, and build ongoing bonds of friendship. If something happens in one community, the news spreads to everybody, and, by the time the local market closes, everybody in the other communities would have heard the news. This research argues that rural communities, especially African communities, and Nigerians in particular, have established communication networks which predate modern information technology. It also acknowledges that these networks are more like structures which would benefit from speed and mass circulation. Bamberry and Dale (2009) identify disparities in access to high-quality telecommunication services between rural communities and

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Figure 9.1 Communal Social Structure

urban cities. The same can also be said of the disparity between Western societies and African societies. But the question that we also need to ask is whether such disparity translates to information access disparity or whether it uses instrumental access to define functionality. For example, does having a mobile phone or Internet connection translate to effective communication, or does it give us the sense (often false sense) of participation in a digital world? The question therefore is how such information technology affects or enhances the lives of these communities. It is easy for us to assume that technology will enhance the quality of the lives of rural people, but the question is how the same technology affects their traditional way of life? According to Kofman (2008, 21), ´there has been a shift away from the local and global as exclusionary categories, and growing awareness of the multiplicity of borders and interconnections´. Rural or communal societies are often placed at a crossroads between their communal identity and technological disruption. According to Christensen, Horn, and Johnson (2008), the introduction of new technology has the potential to change fundamentally the way people behave and share a sense of identity. It also forces organisations to decide if and when to integrate new technologies into their systems (Padgett and Mulvey, 2007, 375-376; Rao, Angelov, and Nov, 2006; Lucas Jr. and Goh, 2009). The challenge is for us to find the balance

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between information technologies as enhancers of communal identities and information technologies as extensions of functional participatory communities with successful social capitals. Adams and Hess (2010, 141), note that social capital is directly related to personal and collective well-being such as, ‘physical and mental health […] and an increased capacity for a community to respond to threats and interventions’. Burgess et al. (2010, 298) have also shown that kinship care promotes a sense of value, belonging, and identity through strong, continuing ties. In other words, the collective resilience of communities enables them to overcome adversities, open new opportunities, learn from each other, sustain trust, and grow their business or community projects, as well as look after one another. These social capitals and cultural values are the same goals which information technologies are expected to identify and disseminate (Coleman, 1988; Sen and Cowley, 2013; Ali-Hassan, 2009; Wu, Wu and Ling, 2009; Alston, 2002; Vorhaus, 2014). Social capital is not limited to economic outcomes. It cuts across social and cultural values, from freedom to mingle with others, to an ability to share difficult times with members of a community. Social capital is like an intangible credit which members of a community/network accumulate, which can be redeemed among participating community memberships. It is therefore important to consider the possible implications of technological intrusion in such resilient communal societies. The interconnectedness of global communities through disruptive information technologies can both link people together, as well as disrupt their traditional values, especially when they have little or no control over what and how such information is used. Information technology as a transgressive tool has the capacity to disrupt trust built by community members. It is therefore important not to assume that access to information technology is the panacea for poverty relief, or that urbanisation of communal societies is a sign of economic development. In summary, we can say that physical regions are at crossroads with technological adoption. The argument is that there needs to a sustainable balance between traditional cultural identity, which forms the reference point of development, and information technology penetration, which forms the modern vehicle through which communal societal values and systems are shared with the rest of the world. It is by understanding these multiple applications of communal systems as social capital, and as tools of information communication, that we are able to measure technological penetration in rural and communal societies accurately.

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Measuring Information Technology Penetration in Rural African Communities In 1906, the Italian economist, Vilfredo Pareto, calculated that 80% of his nation’s wealth was controlled by 20% of the population. His analysis became the basis of the 80/20 principle or simply the Pareto Principle. What is relevant and important in this research is that this principle has been variously used to measure many modern economic principles, from performance index and inequality to optimal workforce index. It has also been used to highlight inequality in wealth distribution across the world and, in particular, in the United States (Norton and Ariely, 2011). For example, it was discovered that, while millionaires make up only 0.9% of population, they control 39% of the world’s wealth (Frank, 31 May 2011). Similarly, if we place this Pareto 80/20 principle alongside African family units, using the above Asuwada and Ubuntu theories, I argue that information technology penetration in communal societies can and should be calculated on family and community groups, rather than on individual units. For example, the 2013 health demography survey of Nigeria (National Population Commission, June 2014), put an average family composition in rural Nigeria to about six children, while, in metropolitan areas, it is almost five children. We can average the family structure size to be seven people, which includes five children with two parents, which, in Pareto principles, amounts to at least 70/30. What this implies is that, rather than measure penetration on population ratio, it should be measured on community groups or family groups at least. In the natural communal societies discussed above by Akiwowo and Makinde, people live in compound structures, which are often made up of descendant family members from the same grandparents and greatgrandparents. An average compound ranges from as little as three families up to ten families, depending on the size of land owned by the parents and great-grandparents, and the number of siblings from each family unit. From the above structure, even if we make a very conservative estimate of ten people to a compound, we can still deduce that access to one mobile telephone in such a compound has the potential to serve at least ten people or, in the Pareto principle, 90/10. According to Internet World Statistics (2017), as of March 2017, Internet penetration in Africa stood at 28.3% against a global average of 49.7%. When this data is broken down by country, Nigeria has a 48.8% penetration rate. But when we analyse this data by volume of use and connection, a different picture emerges. For example, Africa has 54 countries with

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a total population of about 1.2 billion. The total Internet connection for the continent is estimated to be about 354 million, and Nigeria’s Internet connection stood at 93 million. A 2017 research report by Paul Budde Communication (Lancaster, June 2017), acknowledges that topographical challenges, rather than lack of interest or access, is instrumental in determining Africa’s telecommunication platforms. In that research, Nigeria was identified with having Africa’s largest mobile market, with about 149 million subscribers, and a penetration rate of 107%. This figure completely contradicts the ITU’s (2016) data, which claimed that 75% of Africa was offline. The research report put Nigeria’s Internet access at a 77% penetration rate, which is at par with Europe at 79% and above Oceania and Australia at 69% (http://www.internetworldstats. com/stats.htm). It is important to note that the arid nature of many African countries makes direct line connections both economically prohibitive, and technically difficult. As a result, many service providers and subscribers use mobile Internet service. Data from the Nigerian Communication Commission (2017) reported that, as of January 2017, there were 155 million telephone subscribers in Nigeria, with a tele-density of 110. By April 2017, the number came down to 149 million with a tele-density of 106. Tele-density is defined as the number of active telephone connections per 100 inhabitants. What this data demonstrates is that some people have more than one active telephone lines in Nigeria. This is a far cry from the ITU report which says that almost 75% of Africa is offline. The argument is that, if Nigeria, which makes up 26% of Africa’s total population, has a tele-density of 106, it automatically infers that, either the rest of Africa, including South Africa, Kenya, Mauritius, Egypt, and other well-connected parts of Africa, have no connections at all, or that the data from the ITU is flawed. Even if the whole of Africa is measured by Nigeria’s connectivity, the whole continent would still have surpassed the ITU figure. This research does not imply that African countries are fully connected; instead, it argues that flawed generalisations help to consolidate marginalisation and perpetuates a state of inertia and self-doubt by the marginalised. From the above analysis, we can conclude that, even without adopting a Pareto 80/20 or 90/10 principle, Nigerians and Africa as a whole are relatively connected to the information technology networks commensurate to their sociocultural needs without compromising their sense of communal identity.

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Application of Information Technology in Rural African Communities. Having established that African communities are relatively connected to information technology, the question is how the various communities use such technologies to enhance their economic well-being, political plebiscite, and/or rural development. To tackle this issue, the research analyses how information technology was used during the 2011 and 2015 presidential elections in Nigeria. In 2011, Nigeria conducted a federal election which many tagged as one of the nation’s fairest. Behind the success of this election was the use of social media by the country’s youth to mobilise voters and monitor the electoral process. While many hailed such youth empowerment strategies as democratic, others tagged it as elitist. According to Abimbola (Schneider, 4 April 2011), despite the fact that these social media activists were regarded as middle-class, Internet-savvy, Blackberry-trotting, mobile elite, who do not represent the vast majority of the uneducated, one must nevertheless applaud the fact that at least the country was witnessing a movement away from a period of total ignorance to that of awareness and participation. Similarly, the 2015 Nigerian presidential election was hailed as a victory to democracy, because of the relatively peaceful transition between the incumbent president and the successful opposition through the ballot box. It was also the second time in Nigerian electoral history that social media played a significant role in monitoring and ensuring that due process of the law was adhered to during an election. In the 2015 election, the All Progressives Congress (APC), deployed social media strategies with a consistent message of change. This message resonated with many people who wanted a better system of leadership. According to Edozien (7 April 2015), ‘the consensus from all sides is that while social media didn’t decide the vote, it had a significant influence on perception, expectations and a demand for transparency’. All in all, it seems that social media was a winner with the #NigeriaDecides hashtag, resulting in citizens proclaiming that democracy is alive and well in Africa’s most populous nation. It must be noted that one of the issues affecting participatory democracy in Nigeria, and in many African countries, is electoral fraud and lack of transparency. It is therefore worth noting that social media use during these elections helped to minimise such activity. According to Oseni (8 April 2015), social media influenced Nigerian politics by the inability of political parties to change election results. The use of social media such as Facebook,

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Messenger, WhatsApp, Twitter, Blog, YouTube, and Instagram, emerged as an important means of electioneering and policing election results. Eddings (20 April 2015) also commented on the power of social media during the 2015 election, which ´played a central role as a watchdog in keeping the integrity of the process. Within minutes of votes being counted at a polling station, the results were all over social media´. The implication of such speed and connectivity is that electoral officials could not announce a different result from the one already publicised by social media observers. In a way, social media played not just a role in enabling transparency, but also in mobilising people into action wherever there is a perceived lack of turnout or rorting of ballot papers. The Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) (2017), also developed its own telecommunication network which assisted citizens to ask questions and participate in electoral activities. These included a Facebook account, Twitter account, and a list of telephone numbers from all major telephone service operators, to ensure open communication. Other independent organisations opened election monitoring processes to hold the government to account. The Centre for Democracy and Development used digital networks to track electoral performance against promises. They have a barometer set up for the current president, Muhammadu Buhari, called Buharimeter (Buharimeter, 2018). In another article, Reid (19 March 2015 ) said that social media is creating a new generation of Nigerians who have neither power nor money, but who have influence. It is this power of social media, its distributive and collectivist nature, that scares politicians, especially those of the older generation, who are still the power brokers, and who still control the nation’s wealth. The question that keeps reccurring is, if Nigerian youths have such power to influence the electoral outcome, why have they not used it to change the socioeconomic tides of the nation? Is access to information technology the problem or the harnessing of the potentials of such a tool? As established above, access to information technologies and how to use them is not the problem. One thing that has not been factored in or considered is how these communal users of information technology have capitalised on the ubiquity of the technology to extend their cultural ties and community groups rather than the expected national agenda. Some could also argue that there is a limitation in the people’s ability to use information technology to transport people from rural community consciousness to urban consciousness, or, in Akiwowo’s Asuwada theory, transporting them from families (Ajobi), without physically relocating their bloodlines, into urban communities full of strangers (Alajogbe). These communities are still conflated between

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using the technology to enhance their ethnic identity and loyalty rather than understand their new relationships with the wider society. To demonstrate this, let us take a snapshot of how the political landscape operates in the country, and how the various ethnic communities have used social media to consolidate those ethnic sentiments rather than attempt to build national unity. According to the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) (2017) report, in the 2011 presidential election, Goodluck Jonathan of the People’s Democratic Party (PDP) won the election, while his rival, Muhammadu Buhari of the Congress for Progressive Change (CPC), lost. In the 2015 presidential election, the reverse happened, with Muhammadu Buhari of the All Progressives Congress (APC) winning, while Goodluck Jonathan lost. Data analysis of the 2015 presidential and national assembly election supplied by INEC, shows that, of the 23.6 million accredited and verified voters, 20% were students, 21% were farmers, 18% were housewives, and 13% were businesspeople. If we break this down by age, we discover that 18- to 40-year-olds made up 63% of voters, which, by date of birth, means those born between 1975 and 1996. Relative to population, we can infer that the electoral block of Nigeria sits within the youthful population. This is also the technologically educated generation. By implication, this is also the generation who have much at stake in the future of the country. The question therefore is why the nation’s economic fortunes have not changed for the better, and why this group of voters have not used their collective electoral powers to make national change. One possible answer is that Nigeria’s political economy is a very complex system which defies externally prescribed solutions. Akiwowo’s Asuwada theory seems to imply that Nigeria is an ethnically divided country where loyalty is based on bloodlines. As a result, people vote on ethnic lines rather than on national issues. Even though the electoral law was designed to encourage nationalism, by requiring political parties and their presidential candidates to meet a federal character test, political parties still find ways to create an illusion of federal representation. For example, to be declared winner, a presidential candidate must win the majority of all votes cast, plus at least one quarter of votes cast in two-thirds of all the states, including the federal capital territory (36 states). One of the strategies political parties used was the formation of alliances across ethnic and religious groups in order to circumnavigate the huddle. This system created what can be called a marriage of political convenience. For example, in 1999, the People’s Democratic Party (PDP) fielded a former military leader from the western part of the country, Olusegun Obasanjo

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(Christian) as their presidential candidate and Atiku Abubakar (Northern Muslim) as vice presidential candidate. In 2007, Umaru Yar’Adua (Northern Muslim) was chosen as presidential candidate, with Goodluck Jonathan (Southern Christian), as vice presidential candidate. In 2011, after Umaru Yar’Adua died in office, the Vice President, Goodluck Jonathan, (Southern Christian), who succeeded him as President, chose Namadi Sambo (Northern Muslim), as his vice presidential candidate. In 2015, the current President, Muhammadu Buhari (Northern Muslim), former military leader, appointed Yemi Osinbajo (Western Christian) as his vice presidential candidate. The implication of these alliances is that the presidential and vice presidential candidates use their ethnic and religious popularity to galvanise local supporters, which collectively gives them the leverage to meet the federal character test, and also gives people a false sense of nationalism. In reality, ethnicity and religious differences determine people’s voting patterns. For example, while the 2011 election was hailed as democratic, and well managed, more than 800 people were killed in the Northern part of the country by protesters who felt disappointed by the outcome of the result, because the election was won by a Southern Christian (Goodluck Jonathan). They wanted Buhari, a Northern Muslim, to win the election. Between 2016 and 2017, President Muhammadu Buhari (Northern Muslim), spent more time in London for an undisclosed ailment, but, due to fear of ethnic conflict, the constitution could not be triggered to ask him to step down on health grounds. It is therefore important to understand that the issue facing many communal societies, especially in Africa, is less about information technology penetration but more about how such technologies have been appropriated or misapplied to serve or consolidate their communal and political structures, rather than use the technology to extend national debates which do not directly impact their ethnic interests. The argument is that, it is only when African youths can embrace their countries as extensions of their communities, and use the tools of technology to build a collective citizenship, defined by ‘awareness, caring, embracing cultural diversity, promoting social justice and sustainability, and a sense of responsibility to act’ (Katzarska-Miller, Reysen, Kamble, and Vithoji, 2012, 167), that we can see economic development in these communities and countries. This is what Reysen and Katzarska-Miller (2013, 36) see as ‘identification due to prosocial values, intergroup empathy, felt connection and concern for people outside one’s in-group’. The power to make such change and impression lies in the ability of youths to understand the power they command, the skills they have, and the limitations of their inherited ethnic sentiments.

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Conclusion We can infer that, while many African countries have access to and adequate penetration of information technology, the harnessing of such tools for national development will most likely succeed when issues are addressed at grassroots levels rather than at a national level. This is partly because many of these communities with different cultural and social roots were forcefully amalgamated through colonisation into one country, but, internally, they still remain divided and maintain their cultural and social uniqueness and ethnic identities. For example, in Nigeria, the Northern youth will always support Northern issues before national issues, while the Western or Southern youths will always foreground Western or Southern issues before national issues. Since issues such as education and employment, which could have galvanised national consciousness among the youths, are stratified through quota system on state levels, the country’s political consciousness will always be fought on ethnic and state levels. Therefore, by using technological penetration as a measure of economic development, we fail to understand the complexity of such cultural formations. By using an urban industrial economic model to measure penetration, we also fail to understand the power of communal social capital embedded in natural communities. The suggestion is that developmental projects which are targeted at natural communities should understand the sociocultural bonds of members, rather than use denaturalised urban communities as a measure. Such projects should also understand and follow traditional communication channels. These communication channels privilege elders, opinion leaders, initiates or delegated youths, who have been empowered to mediate between one community and another, rather than issues which are individualistically oriented. This is what Lafe (2013) calls abulecentrism (from the Yoruba language abule – village), meaning that development is a collective grassroots responsibility. Rural communities, whether in Western societies or in African societies, are often treated as second-class citizens. This is what Park (1999, 85), calls the ‘eternal dependent relationship between the centre and periphery’, because issues concerning rural development are often formulated from and by people with urban ideological orientation. Information technology is an extension of industrialisation, which is rooted in anonymous urban networks, rather than rural physical communities. The measure of penetration should focus on how people receive and share information rather than on how many people reside, or have access to individualised communication

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tools. Information to a community elder, delegate, or initiate is information that is available to the group. If properly harnessed, information technology penetration could become part of what Schumpeter (1994) regards as creative destruction, wherein rural communities could morph into wider communal relationships through the geometric progression of information technologies because communal networks have always existed. We can therefore infer (Haines, Perkins, and Rice, 2005, 470) that, by using penetration and access to determine development in Africa and other rural and regional communities, we fall into the trap of using an instrumental (technological) approach to respond to or interpret sociocultural consciousness which merely uses technology as a vehicle of expansion.

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Reid, S. (2015, 19 March). ‘Nigerians look to social media amid information scarcity ahead of election’. Al Jazeera America. Retrieved 11 May 2018 from http://america.aljazeera.com/articles/2015/3/19/social-media-plays-key-rolein-nigerian-elections.html Reysen, S. and Katzarska-Miller, I. (2013). ‘Intentional Worlds and Global Citizenship’. Journal of Global Citizenship & Equity Education, 3(1), 34-52. Schneider, J. (2011, 4 April). ´Deepening democracy in Africa’s most populous state´. Think Africa Press. Schumpeter, J.A. (1994). ‘The Process of Creative Destruction’. In J. Schumpeter and J. Stiglitz (Eds.), Capitalism, Socialism and Democracy (81-86). London: Taylor & Francis. Retrieved 8 May 2018 from http://ezproxy.csu.edu.au/login?url=http:// search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=sih&AN=17373484&site= ehost-live. Sen, S. and Cowley, J. (2013). ‘The Relevance of Stakeholder Theory and Social Capital Theory in the Context of CSR in SMEs: An Australian Perspective’. Journal of Business Ethics, 118(2), 413-427. doi:10.1108/13552559810203948 http:// dx.doi.org/10.1007/s10551-012-1598-6 Tonnies, F. and Loomis, C.P. (1957). Community and Society. New York: Dover Publications. Vorhaus, J. (2014). ‘Function and Functional Explanation in Social Capital Theory: A Philosophical Appraisal’. Studies in Philosophy and Education, 33(2), 185-199. doi:10.1007/s11217-013-9380-5 Wu, Q., Wu, J., and Ling, J. (2009). ‘Applying Social Network Theory to the Effects of Information Technology Implementation’. In Y.K. Dwivedi (Ed.), Handbook of Research on Contemporary Theoretical Models in Information Systems (325-335). Hershey, PA: IGI Global.

About the author Chika Anyanwu is the Director of Partnerships at Southern Cross University in New South Wales Australia. Prior to his current position, he was the Head of Bathurst Campus, as well as the Head of School of Communication and Creative Industries at Charles Sturt University, Australia. He was the Founding Head of Media at the University of Adelaide from 2002 to 2013. He also worked as Head of Mass Communication at Curtin University of Technology in Western Australia. He is a global cultural fruit salad with roots in almost every continent.

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He is a recipient of the Leslie Cyberdisciplinarity Fellowships at Dartmouth in the USA, and was a Visiting Professor in Theatre and Mass Communication at Benue State University in Nigeria. He is a Fellow of the Governor’s Leadership Foundation and is on the International Council of the International Association of Media and Communication Research (IAMCR). He chairs the Committee for the Improvement of Academic Life (CIAL) a particularly important committee which deals with academic labour conditions and rights, freedom of expression, liaising with human rights organisations and related organisations at regional, local, national and international level. He is on the editorial board of Journal of Communication Research and Practice, and an adjunct member of the Hugo Centre for Migration and Population Research. He is an Executive Member of Australian and New Zealand Communication Association (ANZCA) and served twice as President in 2006-7 and 2012-13. He earned his PhD in Cinema at Flinders University in Adelaide South Australia.

10. Exploring How Mobile Phones Mediate Bonding, Bridging and Linking Social Capital in a South African Rural Area Mbalenhle Buthelezi and Lorenzo Dalvit

Abstract Mobile phones in poorly resourced rural areas in Africa help expand and strengthen social networks. This increases people’s ability to work together and deal with emergencies, thereby reducing costs and increasing productivity. The present study explores the impact of mobile media on social relations and interactions by looking at the concept of social capital in Dwesa, a rural area on the Wild Coast of South Africa. Since 2005, the area is the site of an ICT-for-development project that provides digital infrastructure, Internet access, and digital technology training to community members. In every other respect, Dwesa is representative of many South African rural areas in terms of insufficient services and infrastructure on the one hand and close ties among family members, relatives in cities, and social networks in the community on the other. We believe our focus on different types of social capital represents an innovative take on the discussion around mobile phones and development in rural areas. Keywords: South Africa, Rural Areas, ICT-for-Development, Social Capital, Mobile Media

Introduction In the Global South, Information and Communication Technology (ICT) has the potential to improve people’s lives. Impressive growth in the mobile phone sector has enabled previously marginalised communities to have

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remarkable access to communication flows (Castells, Fernandez-Ardevol, Qiu, and Sey, 2009). Mobile technologies are particularly popular in subSaharan Africa thanks to ‘their flexibility in choice as people can have a convenient prepaid plan, rapid rollout, adaptable for a paperless society, and requires low-level skills to install and use’ (Maree, 2014, 33). Digital inequalities in terms of the benefits accrued by using Information and Communication Technology can be understood in terms of what van Deursen and Helsper (2015) call the third-level digital divide. Qualitative research highlights the role of mobile phones in providing opportunities for people on the ‘wrong side’ of the divide. The recently upgraded ICT infrastructure investments in Africa reveal that there is a signif icant commitment from governments, the private sector, and international communities in trying to address the digital gap (Bagula, Zennaro, Nungu, and Nkoloma, 2011). As recognised by the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (1948), the fundamental right of freedom of expression ‘encompasses the freedom to seek, receive and impart information and ideas through any media and regardless of frontiers’. This is observed by the opening of numerous African telecommunication markets to competition, and with the establishment of independent regulators in almost 90% of the countries in the African region (Bagula et al., 2011). Mobile and broadband technologies are making significant advances in developing countries in this regard. Fuchs and Horak (2008) note the risk for stratification and concentration of access helping local elites and advocates for an integrated strategy.

Benefits of Mobile Communication in Africa There are many documented benefits of mobile media and communication on the socioeconomic development of marginalised communities and developing countries in Africa (Obijiofor, 2015; Sife, Kiondo, and Lyimo-Macha, 2010; Bhavnani, Chiu, Janakiram, and Silarszky, 2008). These benefits are intensified by the fact that mobile phone growth and usage has occurred faster as compared to other ICT’s in rural areas (FAO, 2011). The presence of mobile phones effectively reduces the ‘distance’ between individuals and institutions, resulting in making the sharing of information and knowledge easier. Mobile phone access has been used productively in marginalised areas around the world for purposes such as healthcare, governance, and business activities (Donner, 2008a). Mobile phones enable households within rural areas to have fast and easy communication methods, which expand the

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capacity of rural community members to access assets, take on livelihood strategies, and overcome their vulnerabilities (Yang, 2008). The use of mobile phones also assists in the possible strengthening of social networks and individual empowerment. Mobile phones enable two core functions within networks: communication and access to information. Castells (1996) identifies technologically mediated networks as the defining characteristic of the contemporary world. He notes that networks are not neutral and that power relationships are at play along the lines of inclusion/exclusion, establishing protocols of communication, coercion/persuasion, and network programming/switching (Castells, 2011). Concerning the first dimension, a case study conducted in a marginalised peri-urban area in South Africa (Duncan, 2013) highlights the increasing difficulty, costs (e.g. in terms of missed opportunities), and stigma associated with exclusion, whether it be voluntary or involuntary. A Fourth World constituted by those who, wherever they are, are not active participants in the network society due to their age, socioeconomic status, level of education, or any other factor is slowly shrinking (Donner, 2008b). Once included in the network, actors are subject to different forms of power as mentioned above; for example, through the imposition of software licences, technological dependency, and stereotyping to name but a few. However, as noted by Castells, members of marginalised groups are not passive receivers and consumers of technology, but can exert counter-power through creativity and appropriation. Mobile phones have the ability to change the character of social lives on an interpersonal and community level (Baruah, 2012). People use various communication services on their mobile phones, such as for communicating with friends, family members, or strangers. Short Message Service (SMS) and mobile voice calls were previously the most used mobile communication services globally (Karikoski and Kilkki, 2013). The Women of Uganda Network (WOUGNET) is an example of information-sharing through SMS campaigns to raise awareness of violence against women in Uganda in the years 2007 and 2008 (Ekine, 2010). Sey (2011) notes how micro-entrepreneurs in Ghana used basic mobile technology to manage and organise their businesses. With the increase in ICT and mobile phone usage, other services have become more popular. These include e-mail, Instant Messaging (IM), multimedia, and social media services (e.g., Facebook). Mabweazara (2011) notes how mobile technology reshaped the journalistic profession in Zimbabwe through constant connectivity, portability, and the possibility of remote and anonymous communication. The growth of social-networking services makes it possible to connect people who share political, economic, and geographic

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interests (Ling and Donner, 2009). The use of mobile phones to capture, expose, and mobilise against police brutality is an example of innovative ways of mobile phone communication within marginalised and grassroots communities in the continent (Ekine, 2010; Dalvit and Schoon, 2018). The prosperity and development of any community depends on their ability to access, produce, and use pertinent information (Harande, 2009). ‘Access to information and advice is a key resource for local people in maintaining active and independent lives. Access to information is also critical to letting people know their entitlements to welfare benefits and sources of support to overcome social exclusion’ (Harande, 2009, 2). In a crisis, ICT services accessed through a mobile phone can provide vital information in real time, as shown by the example of Ushahidi in post-election violence in Kenya (Makinen and Kuira, 2008). Clayton-Powell (2012) notes that urbanisation is bringing a growing number of Africans within reach of increasingly digitally connected cities. Rural communities are often excluded in the information distribution processes and are usually the last to learn about job opportunities, economic issues, civic matters, and many other development-related issues (Ling and Donner, 2009). The availability and usage of mobile phones facilitates the flow of information between the rural poor and other sectors of society (Mosuoe, 2013). Small-scale farmers accessing market prices from their mobile phones is often cited as an example of economic empowerment through mobile technology (Sife et al., 2010). A case study in a small farming community in Tanzania (Tisselli, 2014, 90) highlights ‘the importance of Sharing voice as a form of solidarity and a vehicle for mutual learning’ by enabling the sharing of indigenous knowledge on an eAgriculture platform called Sauti ya Wakulima (‘the voice of the farmers’ in Kiswahili). The expansion and strengthening of social networks in rural areas assists in increasing people’s ability to work together and deal with emergencies, thereby reducing costs and increasing productivity (Bhavnani et al., 2008). For people in rural areas, an effective use of mobile media may contribute to cutting costs, managing resources efficiently, and creating greater access to information and communication (Sife et al., 2010). De Bruijn, Nyamnjoh, and Angwafo (2010) conducted an extensive qualitative study on the role of mobile phones in mediating distance among rural dwellers in Cameroon. Their study highlights specifically rural challenges such as poor network coverage and the cost of local transport. Respondents used mobile phones to access news, purchase medicines from overseas, find job opportunities, remind migrated relatives to send remittances, and so on. Mobile phones reconfigure local power dynamics; for instance, enabling connected people to become information hubs for others in the community. Rural

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communities are not homogeneous and mobile technology benefits are unevenly distributed along age, geographical, and socioeconomic lines. For example, old people and those living in areas with poor network coverage tend to use phones sparingly and efficiently to maintain and strengthen strong ties, often with friends and family members. Young people, on the other hand, tend to use phones in more exploratory ways to establish new connections with people outside their social circle (de Bruijn, Nyamnjoh, and Angwafo, 2010; see also Dalvit, 2015). Miya, Dalvit, and Kromberg (2014) note that, in a rural area in the Eastern Cape Province of South Africa, young isiXhosa speakers use social media to get in contact with members of other language groups across the country, learning to interact in other languages.

ICT and Social Capital in Dwesa Dwesa is a rural area on the Wild Coast of South Africa. It is representative of numerous African rural realities regarding insufficient services and infrastructure, endemic poverty, and high unemployment (see Timmermans, 2004; Palmer, Fay, Timmermans, Lewis, and Viljoen, 2002). An ICT-fordevelopment project called the Siyakhula Living Lab has been running for over a decade in the area. It provides Internet access and ICT infrastructure in schools which makes them easily accessible to the general community (see Dalvit, 2015). However, free Wi-Fi connectivity is limited to the premises of the relevant schools and is constrained by the speed and monthly cap of V-SAT connection (Siebörger and Terzoli, 2010). A group of researchers from Rhodes University and the University of Fort Hare engaged in extensive digital literacy training in the area (Pade-Khene, Palmer, and Kavhai, 2010; Cristoferi and Dalvit, 2015). Mobile network coverage is relatively good but it is often limited to one operator and 3G is only available in some areas. Up to 15 percent of average monthly household income is spent on mobile communication (Pade-Khene, Palmer, and Kavhai, 2010; Cristoferi and Dalvit, 2015). The experience of the Siyakhula Living Lab project prompts questions on the extent to which Internet access, technology training, and prevalence of mobile phones benefits the community. Despite the low socioeconomic status of most Dwesa inhabitants, mobile penetration is relatively high, with 98% of community members having access to a mobile device, and 89% indicating that they own and actively use their mobile device (Collopen, 2015). A survey conducted in 2014 in the area indicated that instant messaging and social networking among young people increased from approximately 15% to more than 50% in one year

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(Gunzo and Dalvit, 2015). According to Collopen (2015), 51% of the people owning an Internet-enabled mobile phone use social-networking apps daily. People in the area use their mobile phones in resourceful ways to manage their household finances and to save on money received monthly through remittances or social grants (Buthelezi, 2015). This includes seizing business opportunities, such as selling airtime and electricity on the phone, mobile banking, and coordinating stokvels via WhatsApp (Buthelezi, 2015). As noted in a comparable rural area (Dalvit, Kromberg, and Miya, 2014) people show sensitivity to cost in the use of mobile services, and they can use advanced features to save on their overall expenses. Communication apps such as Facebook, Skype, and WhatsApp are used as cheaper alternatives to SMS and voice calls, for example, thus facilitating communication and improving relationships between friends and relatives (Buthelezi, 2015; Dalvit, 2015). The present study explores the benefits of mobile media on social relations and interactions by looking at the concept of social capital. Bourdieu (1986) states that capital not only appears in economic forms but as capital of social relationships, which can provide useful support. Social capital can benefit all kinds of communities, including the marginalised (Putnam, 1995; Coleman, 1994). Social capital has been increasingly conceptualised within the framework of development and has been applied in rural studies (Lee, Árnason, Nightingale, and Shucksmith, 2005). Through initiatives that encourage its growth and development, social capital can be harnessed to alleviate poverty, developing rural areas economically and helping rural households prosper (Fafchamps and Minten, 2002). Scholars argue that ICTs ‒ and particularly mobile phones ‒ benefit people in rural areas by maintaining and increasing social capital (Ling, 2004; Gaved and Anderson, 2006). Mobile communication and increased Internet access helps to strengthen bonds, maintain contact with distant friends and relatives, and can potentially improve some aspects of community life by fostering social and economic well-being (Gaved and Anderson, 2006; see also Ragnedda and Ruiu, 2017). In Dwesa, there are close ties among family members, relatives who migrated to the cities, and social networks in the community such as stokvels, burial societies, and sports clubs (Timmermans, 2004; Mosuoe, 2013; Kavhai, 2010). According to Papacharissi (2009), existing social relations are reproduced online. She notes that on online social networks such as LinkedIn and Facebook, users typically sustain contact with their existing groups of friends and acquaintances rather than meet new people. Pade-Khene et al. (2010) in Mosuoe (2010) recommend that communities be made aware of the potential of ICTs to complement traditional communication forms and to assist them to connect with other

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people outside their communities. Woolcock (2001) distinguishes between bonding, bridging, and linking capital, identified in social networks. Bonding social capital refers to social ties that link people who share similar demographic aspects such as family members, close friends, and neighbours. These relationships provide individuals with a sense of common identity (Woolcock, 2001). Bonding social capital is the prevalent form of capital in Dwesa. In a study conducted by Mosuoe (2013), most respondents indicated to have strong kinship ties and often had relatives who migrated to urban areas. Families tap into different and overlapping networks to provide support, care, and other benefits accruing from the continuity of bonds between members (see Prandini, 2014). Family ties play a crucial role in securing employment at the nearby nature reserve (Fay, 2013). As noted by Kavhai (2010) and Cristoferi and Dalvit (2015), mobile phones support the flow of remittances by maintaining contact with relatives who migrated to the cities. Bridging social capital refers to social ties between groups that provide access to a range of resources and facilitate cooperation. The term ´bridging´ refers to the ability of the created networks to connect the various sectors of society that otherwise would never come into contact (Woolcock, 2001). Mosuoe (2013, 145) notes that ‘while mobile phones have become the most used tool for communication within and outside the Dwesa community, meetings are still the primary platform of communication and information dissemination within local networks’. However, she notes the potential of ICT to provide access to information and markets, and supports the establishment of an eCommerce platform, the initial trust of the Siyakhula Living Lab (see Dalvit, Thinyane, Muyingi, and Terzoli, 2007). Beyond economic benefits, the use of the Internet to establish connections with members of other communities can facilitate participation in civic matters, awareness of job opportunities, and finding relevant information, among other things. Linking social capital relates to the networks that provide access to new and increased resources across various platforms which are developed between individuals and groups in distinct levels of power (Woolcock, 2001). Mosuoe (2013) established that Dwesa community members struggle to communicate and disseminate information with other sectors outside of their communities such as governmental and private organisations. Lack of social capital may contribute to this situation. Individuals, households, small groups within communities, and people who hold key positions within networks ‒ who have access to important resources that they can use to their benefit in various ways ‒ are regarded as having more social capital than others (Dudwick, Kuehnast, Jones, and

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Woolcock, 2006). Dudwick et al. (2006) identify six dimensions to assist researchers to understand the dynamics of social capital within poor communities. This approach focuses on how different types of networks help to gain or hinder access to key resources, how participation in various kinds of community groups shapes the capacity for collective action, and how community members work together on issues of shared concern (Dudwick et al., 2006). Six overlapping dimensions of social capital can be used to measure its role in marginalised communities, namely: (i) groups and networks; (ii) trust and solidarity; (iii) collective action and cooperation; (iv) information and communication; (v) social cohesion and inclusion; and (vi) empowerment and political action. Groups and networks enable people to access resources and work together to achieve their shared goals and objectives. Informal networks in communities and the exchanges of information and resources therein are usually manifested in spontaneous, informal, and unregulated forms. These informal networks can be connected through relationships that are shaped by different environmental factors, such as friendship, kinship, and the market (Dudwick et al., 2006). Such networks also have the potential to cultivate solidarity and cooperative efforts in a community. The trust and solidarity dimension relates to the degree to which people feel they can count on relatives, neighbours, colleagues, acquaintances, key stakeholders, and sometimes even strangers for assistance. It is understood that the dynamics of individual and social lives are mediated through trust, a central factor in building cohesive and integrated communities, the “glue” that holds society together. Its presence is seen to have a positive impact on the ways individuals act towards each other and its absence, evident in the breakdown of social and institutional relationships. (Franklin, 2004, 8)

Trust reflects a dependency based on contacts that are already established and have existed for extended periods. Although the dimension of collective action and cooperation is closely related to that of trust and solidarity, it explores how people work together in their community on joint projects or in response to a crisis (Dudwick et al., 2006). According to Vanni (2014), the outcomes of collective action is, in many cases, dependent on the type of smaller groups within the communities or organisations involved. Access to information and communication is recognised as a crucial aspect for poor communities to strengthen their voices, development,

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and overall well-being (Dudwick et al., 2006). In relation to social capital, Dudwick et al. (2006) suggest that it is crucial to explore how households receive and share information regarding community issues, markets, and public services. The authors further state that it is important to explore the extent of access to communication infrastructure. Social cohesion and inclusion closely relate with the previous four dimensions of social capital but specifically focus on how social relationships can potentially include or exclude members of a community (Dudwick et al., 2006). Social cohesion and inclusion in rural communities can be reinforced through community events, such as weddings and funerals, or ‘through activities that increase solidarity, strengthen social cohesion, improve communication, provide learning for coordinated activities, promote civicmindedness and altruistic behaviour, and develop a sense of collective consciousness’ (Dudwick et al., 2006, 13). The social capital dimension of empowerment and political action explores the ability and capacity of networks to influence both local community issues and events as well as broader political outcomes. Such influences and advances towards change can occur within smaller neighbourhood groups and associations or on more comprehensive local, regional, or national levels. Each level is essential and should be considered separately, as well as in conjunction with the others.

Findings and Discussion A qualitative approach, common in research on mobiles in Africa (see de Brujin et al., 2010), helped to understand the contexts within which the causes and nuances of relationships exist (Dudwick et al., 2006). In total, 15 participants representing different age groups, different socioeconomic statuses, levels of education etc. were interviewed. Consistent with a rural context characterised by ‘closed or informal social groupings, where the social knowledge and personal recommendations of the initial contacts are invaluable in opening up and mapping tight social networks’ (Deacon, Pickering, Golding, and Murdock 1999, 53), interviewees were selected through convenience as well as snowball sampling. In taking an ‘emic’ approach, we put aside prior assumptions about the relationship between mobile media and social capital and allowed themes, concepts, and views to emerge from the participants (Babbie and Mouton, 2001). Follow-ups based on participant responses enabled us to identify the various networks in the community and allow for analysis of the influence of mobile media on

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the cultivation and creation of social networks. Field notes complemented interview data, observations, and a research journal to reflect on interactions with the participants. The anonymity of participants was protected by using pseudonyms. The interviews in this study explore the complexity of the relationship between social capital and mobile media in Dwesa. The analysis pays particular attention to how mobile communication and information mediate bonding, bridging, and linking social capital in relation to groups and networks, trust and solidarity, collective action and cooperation, social cohesion and inclusion, as well as empowerment and political action. In relation to groups and networks, the respondents emphasised the ease of maintaining communication and sharing information between their individual ties, which include family members, friends, relatives, neighbours, and other close ties who migrated to the city, thanks to mobile phones, as shown below: ‘I talk to my aunt and cousins who are in East London, sometimes just to ask them, how is life?’ ‘It is easier for my sister who is in Grahamstown to send me money from her phone and I receive an SMS instantly. Maybe if we both didn’t have phones she would complain about going to the bank.’

Most of the respondents suggested that WhatsApp and voice calls are the most effective mediums to communicate with their individual ties in and outside Dwesa. For example, phone calls and WhatsApp with relatives in King Williams Town are beneficial to Miss Tembani, as she can get access to health information and monitor her mother’s health from afar. She combines these communication mediums with Internet services on her phone for information. She states: ‘I google everything related to her health, even her medication as I am here. I ask the people at home, can you please take a photo of it for me, then I google it and check what it is for, and what it helps with and how she should take it.’

Respondents are part of local groups such as stokvels, a youth club called the Mpume Community Organisation (MCO), and local institutions. Mobile phones play an important role in the coordination of group meetings, sharing of information, and general communication within these networks. The

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MCO has an active WhatsApp group as well as Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter accounts. The respondents who are part of the organisation indicated that WhatsApp and Facebook are the easiest forms of communication and platform to get information. A respondent claimed that ‘I have applied for many jobs that are shared on the Facebook group […] No, I am not employed yet but I will keep applying.’ In relation to trust and solidarity, different respondents emphasised varied aspects of support provided by family members, including financial support, food, and emotional support. Solidarity was expressed through remittances, crucial to the Dwesa economy, as well as sharing of information. For example, one respondent stated that ‘My sister in East London always sends me information about job vacancies and short courses that I can do. Sometimes when I do not have enough data, for example to send my CV via email, she sends it for me.’ It should be noted that, in the Dwesa context, the term ‘sister’ refers to an older female member of one’s extended family. Respondents can rely on their individual ties and people with whom they have close connections within their local organisations in times of need and for social support. The stokvels and MCO also express solidarity in terms of monetary support, especially for burials, as shown below: ‘We have many members that are in Cape Town, others in East London and other far places, but if someone loses a member of their family or something like that, they send a bit of money to contribute and we send the money to the family as an organisation.’

The respondents in the current study value local groups for the sense of social cohesion and inclusion that they offer. For example, in referring to the MCO, one respondent pointed out that ‘We do a lot of nice things, like coming together during special holidays like Christmas, New Year and June 16. We sing and dance and sometimes do educational activities.’ The MCO also constantly invites new members to join the organisation. On the Facebook page, there are examples of such posts that highlight the intention for the organisation to include as many young members of the organisation as possible in their mandate on youth development. The mobilisation of resources through the various stokvels mentioned in the background section is an example of collective action towards poverty reduction and the sustenance of families. Groups of senior female participants use WhatsApp to manage and keep track of payments towards a common savings account. At times of crisis (e.g. funerals) or festivities

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(e.g. Christmas), money is withdrawn and used to buy groceries in bulk at a discounted price. Such relatively modest savings make a difference in a community characterised by endemic poverty. In this case, mobile media, at the same time, taps into and strengthens established networks of social relations. The above examples of the role of mobile phones for communication and information in relation to other dimensions relates mainly to bonding social capital. However, solidarity and trust are not limited to one’s immediate contacts. One respondent indicated that she got a friend through commenting on a thread of a vacancy advert on Facebook. They now communicate privately and share job information with each other. This represents an example of how social networks enable the accrual of bridging social capital. Other forms of bridging social capital refer mainly to support and cooperation around particular interests or activities. Remoteness and being far from services can be problematic for individuals who work as part of a wider professional group or network. Two primary school teachers in Dwesa stated that they are enrolled for courses at Rhodes University. Between contact sessions, they use Facebook to connect with other teachers to communicate about course assignments and provide support to each other. It should be noted that, within the Dwesa community, teachers and other categories who may benefit from participation in online communities of practice are a relatively well-off elite. ICT enables regular contact with the researchers involved in the Siyakhula Living Lab. Such relationships provides examples of both bridging and linking social capital. Mobile phones are used to coordinate field trips and training workshops, secure venues and alert potential participants. Community members request advice and empowering knowledge such as information on higher education institutions, computer troubleshooting, job opportunities, etc. Although many of them share a similar socioeconomic background with most Dwesa dwellers, the SLL researchers are perceived as having higher status due to their education and their access to ICT equipment and expertise. In some cases, this translates into benefits such as occasional hand-me-downs of old mobile phones, ad hoc employment as field workers, or training trips to the city. The economic impact of outside connections on local entrepreneurs seems minimal. Two of the participants run business activities. Their customers are members of the community and the nature of the business (i.e. a spaza shop) means they do not target outside markets. However, they use mobile phones to leverage an existing personal connection with wholesalers in

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town who can deliver goods at short notice in case they run out. Observation suggests that phones support buying and selling as well as the non-monetary exchange of food (e.g. vegetables, seafood, and chickens) and animals for ceremonial purposes (e.g. lobola, or cattle given by the groom to the family of his prospective bride). It should be noted that relatively basic communication features such as phone calls and SMS are used. However, attempts to deploy an eCommerce platform to market local art craft and locally produced food did not prove sustainable, possibly due to their relatively small scale and lack of local demand. A recent court order to remove households within one km from the shoreline provided an opportunity for political action supported by mobile communication. Community members living in urban areas were informed telephonically and, through personal contacts with lawyers and university professors, discovered that the eviction order was based on Apartheid-era legislation and therefore illegitimate. Mobile phones were used to coordinate a passive resistance campaign by removing the eviction notices, on the one hand, and emailing the relevant government offices, traditional authorities, and local newspapers, on the other. Although the issue is not yet resolved, political action brought about a stalemate which has prevented the bulldozing of existing households.

Conclusions Consistent with previous research, this study confirms that bonding social capital is the most prevalent form of capital in Dwesa. Social capital is identified mainly in the dimensions of groups and networks, trust and solidarity, social cohesion and inclusion, as well as cooperation and collective action. Bridging forms of social capital relate to mutual solidarity with outsiders around a common interest (e.g. job seeking) or particular activities, usually performed by members of the restricted elite within the community. The relationship with researchers in the Siyakhula Living Lab shows how, in the case of a marginalised community such as Dwesa, it is not always easy to distinguish between bridging and linking forms of social capital. With consideration of past segregation and stratification along racial, geographical, and socioeconomic lines, further research is needed on whether a distinction between bridging and linking social capital is relevant in a community such as Dwesa. Beyond solidarity and political action, identified in the literature and confirmed by our study, it would be interesting to consider the role of mobiles with respect to inclusion

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in broader networks, collaboration with other communities, and social cohesion on a national scale. Respondents focused primarily on the observable benefits of mobile media use. Examples such as sharing information about job opportunities, preparing upcoming events remotely, or keeping records of economic transactions. These represent mobile-mediated responses to context-specific practical challenges. Considering non-observable benefits such as avoiding a crisis, keeping healthy, or reducing family disgregation due to distance would require different (possibly ethnographic) methods and may yield interesting results. In a critical study, the negative effects and possible impacts of mobile technology, such as material and cultural dependency on the metropole for instance, should also be taken into account. Despite our best efforts to achieve a diverse group of participants, we realise that our topic and methodology introduced an inherent bias in favour of respondents who are actual mobile users. Like other African communities, Dwesa is a complex and heterogeneous context where different people benefit from mobile technology to different extents and where digital inclusions and exclusions are at play. A focus on non-users and their experiences would provide a novel and original perspective on the mobile phenomenon in Africa. A more nuanced approach could consider domains from which mobile technology is excluded or situations where its use is considered inappropriate. In Xhosa culture, for example, during the rite of passage from boyhood to manhood initiates are not supposed to touch modern items such as money or phones with their hands, but can make a call using speakers and with the device being held by a proxy. Research on mobile absences and exclusions could inform policy in areas such as the provision of health information or of services targeting vulnerable groups.

Acknowledgements This work was made possible by the sponsorship of the South African National Research Foundation through its Human and Social Dynamics for Development initiative and Incentive Funding for Rated Researchers. We acknowledge the support of the sponsors of the Siyakhula Living Lab. We also thank Mr. Tatenda Chatikobo for his assistance.

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Gaved, M. and Anderson, B. (2006). The impact of local ICT initiatives on social capital and quality of life. Ipswich: University of Essex. Gunzo, F. and Dalvit, L. (2015). ‘One Year On: A Longitudinal Case Study of Computer and Mobile Phone Use among Rural South African Youth´. In J. Steyn and D. van Greunen (Eds.), ICTs for Inclusive Communities in Developing Societies (226-237). Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing. ISBN (10): 1-4438-8081-7. Harande, Y.I. (2009). ‘Information services for rural community development in Nigeria’. Library Philosophy and Practice (e-journal), 271. Retrieved 17 February 2018 from http://digitalcommons.unl.edu/libphilprac/271 Kavhai, M. (2010). ‘The impact of ICT in Dwesa, a rural area in South Africa’ (MSocSci thesis in Communication). University of Fort Hare. Karikoski, J. and Kilkki, K. (2013). ‘Building social capital with mobile communication services’. International Journal of Electronic Finance, 7(2), 115-131. https://doi. org/10.1504/IJEF.2013.057277 Lee, J., Árnason, A., Nightingale, A., and Shucksmith, M. (2005). ‘Networking: social capital and identities in European rural development’. Sociologia ruralis, 45(4), 269-283. Ling, R. (2004). The mobile connection: The cell phone’s impact on society. San Francisco: Morgan Kaufmann Publishers. Ling, R. and Donner, J. (2009). Mobile Phones and Mobile Communications: Digital Media and Society Series. Malden, MA: Polity. Mabweazara, H.M. (2011). ‘Between the newsroom and the pub: The mobile phone in the dynamics of everyday mainstream journalism practice in Zimbabwe’. Journalism, 12(6), 692-707. Mäkinen, M. and Wangu Kuira, M. (2008). ‘Social media and postelection crisis in Kenya’. The International Journal of Press/Politics, 13(3), 328-335. Maree, J. (2014). Mobile phones for development: How have women in the informal sector used their mobile phones to enhance themselves and their business? (Doctoral dissertation). University of Cape Town. Mosuoe, T.P. (2013). The potential and reality of the Living Lab model of ICT for Development (ICT4D) in the rural development context: The case of Siyakhula Living Lab, Dwesa, Eastern Cape, South Africa (BA Master’s thesis). Rhodes University, Grahamstown, South Africa Obijiofor, L. (2015). New Technologies in Developing Societies: From Theory to Practice. London: Springer. Pade-Khene, C., Palmer, R., and Kavhai, M. (2010). ‘A Baseline study of Dwesa rural community for the Siyakhula Information and Communication Technology for Development project: Understanding the reality on the ground’. Information Development, 26(4), 265-288.

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Palmer, R., Fay, D., Timmermans, H., Lewis, F., and Viljoen, J. (2002). ‘Regaining the forests: reform and development from 1994 to 2001’. From Conflict to Negotiation: Nature-Based Development on South Africa’s Wild Coast, Human Science Research Council, Pretoria. Papacharissi, Z. (2009). ‘The virtual sphere 2.0: The internet, the public sphere and beyond’. In A. Chadwick and P.N. Howard (Eds.), Routledge Handbook of internet politics, 1st ed. (246-261). London: Routledge. Putnam, R. (1995). ‘Bowling alone: America’s declining social capital’. Journal of Democracy, 6(1), 65-78. Ragnedda, M. and Ruiu, M.L. (2017). ‘Social capital and the three levels of digital divide’. In M. Ragnedda and G.W. Muschert (Eds.), Theorizing Digital Divides (27-40). Oxford: Routledge. Sey, A. (2011). ’”We use it different, different”: Making sense of trends in mobile phone use in Ghana’. New Media & Society, 13(3), 375-390. Siebörger, I. and Terzoli, A. (2010, September). ´WiMAX for rural SA: The experience of the Siyakhula Living Lab´. Southern African Telecommunication Networks & Applications Conference: A society enabled by Innovation and Applications, Stellenbosch, South Africa. Sife, A. S., Kiondo, E., & Lyimo‐Macha, J. G. (2010). Contribution of mobile phones to rural livelihoods and poverty reduction in Morogoro region, Tanzania. The Electronic Journal of Information Systems in Developing Countries, 42(1), 1-15. Timmermans, H.G. (2004). Rural livelihoods at Dwesa/Cwebe: Poverty, development and natural resource use on the Wild Coast, South Africa (Master of Science thesis). Rhodes University, Grahamstown, South Africa. Tisselli, E. (2014). ´Sauti ya Wakulima: Listening to the Voice of Tanzanian Farmers´. In M. Berry and M. Schleser (Eds.), Mobile Media Making in an Age of Smartphones (82-91). New York: Palgrave Pivot. van Deursen, A.J. and Helsper, E.J. (2015). ‘The third-level digital divide: who benefits most from being online?’ Communication and information technologies annual, 10, 29-52. Emerald Group Publishing Limited. Woolcock, M. (2001). ‘The place of social capital in understanding social and economic outcomes’. Canadian journal of policy research, 2(1), 11-17. Yang, D. (2008). ‘International migration, remittances and household investment: Evidence from Philippine migrants’ exchange rate shocks’. Economic Journal, 118(528), 591-630.

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About the authors Lorenzo Dalvit is currently the MTN Chair of Media and Mobile Communication in the School of Journalism and Media Studies at Rhodes University. His previous experiences include heading the ICT Education Unit in the Rhodes Education Department, coordinating research and ICT for the SANTED programme in the African Language Studies Section of the Rhodes School of languages and conducting research into multilingualism and ICT for the Telkom Centre of Excellence in the Rhodes Department of Computer Science. He holds a Laurea in Sociology from the University of Trento (Italy), a MA in Applied Linguistics and a PhD in ICT Education from Rhodes University. He took additional undergraduate credits in Economics, Computer Science and isiXhosa as a Second Language and is currently completing a PGDHE at Rhodes. His areas of academic interest range from sociolinguistics to software development under the common thread of improving social and economic participation for members of marginalised groups. He spear-headed projects in software localisation, educational collaboration and software development. Mbalenhle Buthelezi is a postgraduate student at the School of Journalism and Media Studies at Rhodes University. Under the supervision of Professor Lorenzo Dalvit, her Master’s research interests are on the role digital technologies, particularly mobile phones play in rural marginalised communities. Buthelezi completed both her undergraduate and Honours degree from Rhodes University. She previously worked in the Communications department at the KwaZulu Natal Legislature and with the Eastern Cape Communication Forum, an NPO that aims to strengthen the community media sector in the Eastern Cape province in South Africa. She enjoys doing voluntary work with non-government organisations that empower young individuals within the Grahamstown community.

11. Bridging the Digital Gap in Sub-Saharan Africa A Critical Analysis of Illiteracy and Language Divide Steven Sam

Abstract This chapter advances the debate on the social aspect of digital divide in Africa, by focusing specifically on literacy and language as fundamental barriers to digital inclusion in Sierra Leone. The chapter addresses two questions: (i) how do illiteracy and language barriers influence the access and effective use of digital technology such as mobiles and mobile Internet in Africa, and (ii) how do marginalised individuals, with limited language and literacy skills, overcome these social barriers of the digital divide? The author builds on ethnographic data collected through mixed methods from rural and urban communities to address these questions. The analysis shows that high illiteracy and language barriers increase the digital gap among the marginalised, not because they do not have access to the technology, but because they lack the required basic literacy and language skills to make timely, independent ownership decisions and effective use. Further analysis of the data using Everett Rogers’ diffusion of innovation model, indicates that some marginalised individuals negotiate language and literacy barriers of the digital divide through social networks of family and friends. The results imply that an individual level of adoption depends on the condition(s) under which the process occurs within one´s personal networks. Keywords: Rural, Urban, Africa, Sierra Leone, Digital, Network, Innovation, Everette Rogers

Mutsvairo, B., M. Ragnedda (eds), Mapping the Digital Divide in Africa. A Mediated Analysis, Amsterdam University Press, 2019. doi: 10.5117/9789462986855_ch11

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Introduction For many years, the phenomenon of digital divide has become central to the debate on information and communication technologies for development (ICT4D) in both academic and non-academic settings. Equitable access to information and communication Technology (ICT)1 is crucial for citizens to break free from poverty. ICT can increase access to vital livelihood information, facilitate communication, and empower the poor to overcome social, economic, and political deprivations (Obijiofor, 2015). Therefore, those who do not have access to ICT are believed to miss out on the development opportunities offered by the technology in the developing world (Thomas and van de Fliert, 2014). As a result, a large volume of research has deliberated on the need to understand and address the digital divide that exists between countries and individuals as pivotal to the empowerment of citizens (e.g. Blumenstock and Eagle, 2012; Martin and Abbott, 2011). Greater efforts in this respect are generally directed towards developing policies and implementing projects aimed at increasing access to digital technology, particularly in Africa (Gyamfi, 2005). Often, the provision of ‘universal access’ emerges as a key policy agenda to bridge the digital divide (ITU, 2014). Suggestions for this policy agenda include the development of technology resource centres and telecentres to provide telecommunications and Internet connections and access for underserved rural and urban populations (Colle and Román, 1999). Other policy recommendations include the investment in infrastructure and ICT tools to increase access and usage among citizens. These efforts imply that bridging the digital divide is merely about closing the gap by improving access to ICT infrastructure. This chapter argues that the digital divide is also a social and contextual phenomenon linked to individuals’ capability, not only to gain access to digital technology, but also to make effective use of the technology to support users’ social and economic livelihood (Gurstein, 2003). In other words, the fact that people have access to mobiles, can connect to the Internet, or can join social media sites does not mean that they are able to overcome the digital divide. Access and effective use are crucial for addressing the digital divide sustainably (Gurstein, 2003; Gyamf i, 2005; Mutula, 2005). A growing body of literature has begun deliberating on effective use in the broader contexts of social, economic, political, and cultural capabilities needed 1 Here, ICT refers to digital technologies such as mobile phones, Internet, and computers, used to manage information and knowledge.

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for operating digital technology. For example, van Deursen and van Dijk (2014), Warschauer (2002), and Norris (2001) have explored the digital divide beyond technological connectivity and access. They point out that a range of social, demographic, and institutional factors, such as education, attitude, skills, language, literacy, types of usage, and institutional structures, must be carefully considered in conceptualising the digital divide. In a review of literature in sub-Saharan Africa, Mutula (2005) suggests similar social factors, including ICT awareness, literacy, attitude, health, and gender, as imminent peculiarities of the digital divide. This chapter advances the debate on the social aspect of the digital divide in Africa, with specific interest in the informal approaches taken up by marginalised individuals to address the problems of literacy and language divide. Literacy and language capabilities are specific social dimensions of the digital divide that resonate with marginalised groups with limited education and language capabilities in Sierra Leone. Based upon the data collected from an ethnographic study in Sierra Leone and literature in Africa, this chapter analyses illiteracy and language as fundamental social barriers that hinder effective use of ICTs such as mobile phones and social media, and then discusses the ingenuous ways employed by marginalised groups to overcome these social barriers of the digital divide. It builds on these analyses to further discuss the implications of the current practices employed by marginalised groups in the context of digital inclusion, arguing that the phenomenon of the digital divide is far from being addressed in some African countries like Sierra Leone, despite the widespread access to mobile phones and the burgeoning growth in mobile Internet. The chapter concludes by reinforcing that bridging the digital divide sustainably requires a simultaneous process of harnessing technology access and addressing particularities, such as language and illiteracy challenges, that impede effective use of the technologies. It goes further by providing policy recommendations for bridging the digital literacy and language divide and facilitating an inclusive digital ecosystem in Africa.

The Digital Divide in Sub-Saharan Africa The digital divide is a complex and dynamic phenomenon with different meanings in different contexts (van Dijk and Hacker, 2003). In its simplest form, the digital divide refers to a binary distinction between societies and individuals who are able to take advantage of ICT and those who are not (Riggins and Dewan, 2005). It has been argued that the digital divide exists

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in and between developed countries in North America and European nations and the developing countries in Latin America, Asia, and Africa (Rogers, 2001). The primary emphasis in this chapter is on the digital divide that exists among marginalised individuals in sub-Saharan African countries. Certainly, this requires the formulation of the digital divide beyond its simple definition of physical access to ICT artefacts. Simply because poor socioeconomic and political backgrounds of individuals in Africa may affect their ability to access and use ICT (Fuchs and Horak, 2008; Martin and Abbott, 2011). Indeed, emerging definitions of the digital divide in Africa encapsulate the disparities in access to digital technologies on the basis of not only technology and economic imperatives, but also social, cultural, and institutional particulars, such as gender discrimination, oppressive regimes, social class, social status, literacy skills, and so forth (Deen-Swarray, 2016; Gyamfi, 2005; Mutula, 2005). Many scholars refer to these social, economic, and political stratifications as the third level digital divide (Palfrey and Gasser, 2013; Ragnedda, 2017; Ragnedda and Muschert, 2013; van Deursen and van Dijk, 2014), while the first level describes disparities in physical access to ICT (van Dijk, 2006), and the second level refers to as inequities or ‘deepening divide’ of ICT usage (Hargittai and Hinnant, 2008; van Deursen and van Dijk, 2011; van Dijk, 2005). Many Africans miss out on the computer and PC Internet age owing to the high setup cost involved and also the skills require to operationalise it (Donner and Gitau, 2009). However, the burgeoning growth in mobile telephony can be seen as a frontier to bridge the first level digital technological divide between the haves and have-nots. Currently, 44% of individuals in sub-Saharan African countries have active SIM cards – the lowest rate in the world (GSMA, 2016). Mobile Internet is also growing, but a significant gap still exists across Africa. An estimate by GSMA (2015) indicates that mobile Internet penetration in Africa currently stands at 20%. Equally, smartphone connections in Africa stood at 226 million, though predicted to increase to 720 million by 2020 (Guardian, 2016). However, despite the ubiquity of mobile phones and mobile Internet in Africa, the efforts to address the digital divide have thus far yielded suboptimal results. The degree of disparity lies, not in the role out of mobile telephony, but in the inequitable access to and use of mobile phones and Internet by individuals in Africa (Blumenstock and Eagle, 2012; Donner, 2008). For instance, studies in Botswana, Ghana, Uganda, and Rwanda recorded signif icant disparities in the use of Internet and mobile SMS among men and women participants (Blumenstock and Eagle, 2012; Scott, McKemyey, and Batchelor, 2004). In many instances, privileged males are

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reported to own and use mobile phones disproportionately more than their female counterparts (Blumenstock and Eagle, 2012). These examples illustrate the challenges to bridge both the third and second levels digital divide, which are largely linked to effective use of these technologies and internalised sociocultural and economic aspects of the digital divide in Africa. More broadly, research attributes the persistent digital divide in Africa to multiple social, economic, and political challenges. Martin and Abbott (2011), for instance, highlight that high poverty incidence, low literacy rates, and low ICT skill levels in Africa affect the ability for individuals to access and use digital technologies. Mutula (2005) argues that the prevalence of multiple social impediments, such as literacy, education, health, and language barriers, means that Africa needs better models for bridging the digital divide that can help the continent to leapfrog into a sustainable information age. Mutula’s points corroborate Norris’s (2001) observation that leveraging the multidimensional perspectives of the digital divide requires the need to look beyond the issues of access to technology. The arguments thus far on the access and use of digital technology in Africa qualify van Dijk’s (2005) observation that the digital divide is inevitably tied with social inequalities. This implies that bridging the digital divide requires the need to unpack the social implications that undermine the access and use of digital technologies in Africa (Mutula, 2005). In this chapter, the analysis of the digital divide is driven by the social perspective and is intended to understand the implications of illiteracy and language barriers on the access and use of digital technologies. It differs from the work of other scholars who have echoed similar social dimensions in their studies (e.g. Gyamfi, 2005; Mutula, 2005). For example, Gyamfi (2005) proposes the development of users’ literacy skills and contents in local languages for Africa to break free from inequitable digital exclusion. On the other hand, Deen-Swarray (2016, p.32) examines how three levels of literacy ‒ namely, basic literacy, English-language literacy, and e-skills literacy ‒ impact on the access and use of mobile phones and Internet in selected African countries. In this chapter, illiteracy and language are examined as social impediments configured along binary dimensional capabilities: the inability to speak, read, and write the language of the interface of the digital technologies and the inability to write the native language(s) spoken by individuals in some countries in sub-Saharan Africa. It interrogates how users navigate these social challenges to use digital technologies that constantly demand written capability for it to be effectively integrated into their livelihood (Gyamfi, 2005).

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Theorising the Digital Divide as a Social Process As mentioned above, language and literacy skills are considered in this chapter as important elements of the capability assets required for effective use of digital technologies (Deen-Swarray, 2016; Osborn, 2006). The chapter shows the existence of language and literacy as fundamental social barriers that hinder effective use of digital technology such as mobiles and mobile Internet in Africa. It further demonstrates that the participants´ approaches to access and use of mobile and mobile Internet-involved social processes, such as using literate friends/family or following an informal education, is negotiated within social networks and is not a single event of obtaining a particular technology (Sam, 2015; van Dijk, 2006). Hence, access and use of digital technologies are conceptualised as a social process negotiated within the social networks of individuals (Hilbert, 2011a). Roger’s diffusion of innovations model through social networks provides a useful framework to make this connection (Hilbert, 2011a). Diffusion and innovation theory relates to the process through which individuals adopt innovations (e.g. digital technology) communicated through certain channels over a period of time (Rogers, 1995). Rogers maintains that the process of adoption progresses through five stages (Figure 11.1). In the first three stages, users gain awareness about the technology, develop motivation, and decide to acquire it. The last two stages are where users acquire and use the technology. These stages characterise the physical access and usage of digital technology. However, research indicates that a usage gap still exists even after providing equal access to digital technologies (Alam and Imran, 2015). The gap is determined by a wide range of factors that limit the actual usage. These factors could be economical; for example, income to buy a mobile handset, subscribe to mobile and Internet services, or pay for mobile repairs. More importantly, sociocultural factors – that is, literacy skills, language, norms, and content – could hinder usage. Rogers’ diffusion model acknowledges these differing usage patterns and characterises them as an adoption rate. Rogers argues that, within the social or network system, not all adopters adopt an innovation at the same time. The rate of adoption can, for example, be influenced by the nature of the ties among network structure (Hilbert, 2011). This includes change agents (or role model), norms, values, and the degree of connectedness in the social systems (Rogers, 1995). For instance, Hilbert (2011, 4) argues that early adopters with many ties and who possess high literacy skills and

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Figure 11.1 Roger’s innovation-adoption process

knowledge of an innovation often act as adoption thresholds to spread the novelty of an innovation quickly. This framework of social network gives us a better understanding of how and why users negotiate literacy and language barriers to bridge the digital divide. Illiterate users in Africa need to develop certain language, knowledge, and literacy skills, such as the ability to write and modify contents and services, to benefit from using the mobile phone and mobile Internet fully (Deen-Swarray, 2016). Those who do not develop these skills remain excluded, despite the fact that they are connected or live within a mobile and mobile Internet networks coverage zone. Based on the diffusion of innovation theory, this chapter proposes that it is likely for users to develop these skills through the social networks in which they are embedded. They can develop the motivation from opinion leaders to teach themselves (Chigona et al., 2009), or develop the knowledge and skills through adopters who have the expertise to configure mobile phones or mobile Internet (Chipchase, 2008). They can also use trusted opinion leaders within their social networks to use Internet or configure their handsets (Donner and Gitau, 2009). In short, the framework of diffusion of innovation theory through social network gives us a specific model to analyse the phenomenon of digital divide as a social process beyond its technological determinant. The social process implies that users come to bridge the digital divide not only with the physical access to technology, but also how they engage and interact with different actors within their social networks to acquire the knowledge and skills needed to operationalise the technology (Chipchase, 2008; Hilbert, 2011a). The extent to which a technology can diffuse through this socially connected process depends on the structure and nature of social ties (Valente, 1996). Individuals connected to strong social ties (e.g. family or friends) possess higher adoption threshold compared to actors with weak ties (Valente, 1996; Hilbert, 2011). This implies that the adoption rate is likely higher among non-literate individuals connected to strong networks of family members or friends with some level of ICT skills and knowledge thresholds to those that relate to each other in the African context. In hindsight, the diffusion theory through social network gives a particular and distinct way to determine each individual level of usage pattern of digital technologies within a social system. However, it also has drawbacks. The diffusion through social network is never immediate

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(Hilbert, 2011). According to Hilbert, it takes a certain amount of time for innovations to spread through social networks with particular shapes and characteristics (Hilbert, 2011, 5). This differing variation in adoption time results in an unavoidable and internalised innovation divide, despite exposing individuals to digital technology networks. Another drawback is that the increase in the proportion of adopters in an individual network does not occur uniformly (Valente, 1996). The structure of the social system, social network patterns, and adoption behaviour of network partners influence the rate of adopters within an individual network (Valente, 1996). The result is a disproportionate level of adoption in an individual social network.

Methodology Research Settings The empirical data used in this chapter is drawn from a large study conducted between 2012 and 2016 on mobile phone uses and implications among marginalised groups in Sierra Leone. The research received an ethical clearance from the University of Queensland research ethics committee. As an ethnographic study, the research settings were restricted only to two communities in rural and urban districts (Tombo and Wellington). This is to ensure an in-depth investigation that produces a rich ethnographic account by spending more time in each community (Hammersley and Atkinson, 1995). The two communities were chosen as potential field settings because of their geographical proximity to Freetown central administrative offices, access to mobile phone networks, the dominance of local governance politics, and the significant presence of the research participants. They also represent other communities across the country in terms of their similarities and differences in socioeconomic activities. Tombo is a small, marginalised, rural fishing community located on the peninsula highway about 49km east of the capital city Freetown. Wellington, on the other hand, is a highly populated and remote urban community located east of Freetown. It has a small government health centre, a couple of secondary schools, a limited water facility, and intermittent electricity supply. Despite the differences in their socioeconomic contexts, Tombo and Wellington communities share common characteristics. They are both extremely poor and marginalised communities with limited livelihood opportunities for the inhabitants.

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Data Gathering Fieldwork was conducted in two phases. The f irst phase lasted for one month (March 2013). It served as a scoping phase to inform the research questions, select the research settings, and locate and acquire people’s experiences of mobile phone use. During this initial phase, data was gathered through informal interviews, focus group discussions, observations, and document analysis. The research information gathered from this phase contributed to refining the research problems, informing the framing of the research questions, selecting the research communities, and identifying specific groups of marginalised individuals as potential research participants. The second phase lasted for f ive months (between February and June 2014). This phase involved participant observation in both open and closed settings, in-depth interviews with 50 participants, 22 key informant interviews, and five focus group discussions, each composed of 3-8 participants (Barbour, 2011; Boeren, 1992). The three research methods were not employed systematically. Rather, they were integrated where necessary into the data collection process in order to provide a holistic understanding of the research problem under study. Participant observation increased the chances of interacting and chatting with the research participants and learning about their everyday lives and behavioural patterns around mobile phone use in their natural settings (Bernard, 2000; Bow, 2002). The observation process mirrored an iterative-inductive approach based on Spradley’s (1980, 73) three observation techniques: descriptive, focus, and selective observation. The study started with the descriptive observation to provide a broader understanding of the everyday practices and use of mobile phones by the marginalised. The observation was stimulated by questions that identified major features of the settings, described major things that took place, behavioural acts or activities such as the feeling that people had, and the goals that they intended to achieve in their everyday routines. This was then followed by the focus and selective observations meant to capture detailed and contrasting issues that emerged in the descriptive observation. The focus group discussion came midway through the exploratory phase of the fieldwork, after a considerable exploratory observation has been conducted. It was the first event to engage the marginalised in a structured conversation with one another to define key concepts and learn about their differing experiences, ideas, and concepts that exist among them (Barbour,

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2011; Roper and Shapira, 2000). It was used to clarify and gain collective insights into the respondents’ knowledge, perceptions, beliefs, and practices regarding the use of mobile telephony to articulate their everyday practices. The information gathered was used to inform and shape the formulation of semi-structured individual interview questions as well as the selection of participants for the interviews at the later stage of the study (Roper and Shapira, 2000). Both the research participants´ and key informants’ interviews served two purposes. First, to clarify or conf irm important information that emerged during participant observation and focus group discussions. Second, to acquire in-depth information on marginalised people’s mobile phone culture, including how they construct or reconstruct meaning in their everyday lives. The interview for each participant started with a list of topics as a guide to inform the interview process. Overall, the interview was scheduled between 45 and 120 minutes. Open questions were asked based on the interview guide. In addition, follow-up questions were asked to clarify emerging thoughts that required further in-depth enquiry. All interviews were conducted in Krio, a local language spoken and understood by the researcher and also convenient for the participants to express themselves better. Data Analysis The approach to analysing the data followed the approaches of ethnographers such as Jenna Burrell (2012) and Crystal Powell (2014). Both ethnographers drew on the subjects’ experiences to analyse Internet and mobile phone use in Ghana and South Africa respectively. Likewise, the study in Sierra Leone did not follow any prescriptive or rigid structure that could pre-explain the data. Rather, the analysis was based entirely on the participants’ experiences. To do this, the study employed thematic analysis to organise and interpret the data in a way that reflected the participants’ experiences and shared meaning (O’Reilly, 2005; Roper and Shapira, 2000). Recorded interviews and field notes were reviewed, transcribed, analysed, and coded to generate categories, patterns, and themes (Roper and Shapira, 2000). The choice of codes and themes adopted relied largely on the focus of capturing key concepts from the raw data to address the research questions, leading to a meaningful interpretation of the phenomenon under study.

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The Digital Divide: Literacy and Language Dimensions Literacy The definition of literacy in the Information Age now seems to transcend the binary dichotomies of an individual´ś ability to read and write. OECD’s recent definition refers to literacy as the capacity for individuals to understand and employ printed information in daily activities, at home, at work, and in the community ‒ to achieve one’s goals, and to develop one’s knowledge and potential (OECD, 2000, x). A recent study expands this definition by categorising literacy into three skill sets that can enable or hinder the effective use of mobile phones and the Internet. These are: basic literacy, which includes reading and writing abilities; English-language literacy, which includes reading and producing content in English; and e-skill literacy, which includes skill sets necessary to use ICT (Deen-Swarray, 2016, 32). Despite the new emerging meaning of literacy, the ability to read and write has generally been, and is often still, identif ied in literature as a fundamental factor determining ICT access and effective use (e.g. DeenSwarray et al., 2012; Osborn, 2006). Developing certain literacy skills allows individuals to participate and benefit from the global information society. Research indicates that individuals equipped with appropriate literacy skills can effectively integrate mobile telephony into their everyday livelihood (Blumenstock and Eagle, 2012). Apart from its basic uses such as calling or sending SMS, individuals can use the technology to search for job opportunities, coordinate business activities, organise healthcare services, manage personal finances, and facilitate teaching and learning (Obijiofor, 2015). Although doing this also depends on the awareness knowledge of individuals about the existence of such opportunities (Sam, 2015), having appropriate literacy skills weighs in significantly. For this reason, literacy is referred to in this chapter as the capacity and knowledge required for individuals to make effective use of mobile phone and Internet technology to maximise its development benefits. This includes writing and reading in indigenous languages or English. It also includes signs and symbols that enable users to communicate and make optimal use of mobile phones and Internet. In most African countries, the percentage of illiterate individuals outweighs the literates. Some 153 million (38%) of adults are illiterate in Africa (UNESCO, n.d.). Sierra Leone is among the countries in sub-Saharan Africa with the lowest national literacy rate. A recent data indicates that ‘4 4.2% percent are literate in English Language only, while 2.6 percent are literate

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in a local language, and 5 percent are literate in two or more languages’ (Statistics Sierra Leone, 2015, 17). Implying that the percentage of the national illiteracy rate stands at 52.9 %, and even higher in disadvantaged rural and urban communities where the study for this chapter was conducted. Of the 50 research participants, 88% never attended school, 2% acquired some level of secondary education, while 10% claimed to have some primary school education. The percentage of illiterate participants was higher in Tombo (64%) than in Wellington (24%), the two research communities chosen for this study. The high incident of illiteracy hindered the participants’ ability to gain access to and make effective use of mobile phones and mobile broadband in both communities. To some extent, this barrier influenced the following decisions: what kind of mobile phone handset to possess that has desired functionalities like flash light, Internet-enabled, or social media applications; which networks to subscribe to that have lower subscription fees or free-call offers; and which social media network accounts to make. Many envisioned mobile telephony, not only as a communication tool, but also as a tool to address other livelihood needs. For example, having a mobile phone with a flashlight is essential in Tombo and Wellington, where access to electricity is uncommon. Additionally, Internet and social media functionality are considered very important aspects of the mobile phone usage experience. As James, one of the literate participants commented: We the youth prefer cheap and strong mobile phones that can last for long. We want mobile phones with dual sim, memory card and flashlight […]. Because some of us like to browse on the Internet or go on social media […] any mobile phone that has these functions is our first choice. (James, male, 22, high school dropout)

However, many of the non-literates who also desired similar functionalities experienced difficulty making such decisions when acquiring a handset. Participants who could not make these choices felt deficient because they were unable to read and understand the instructions on the mobile phone package or check through the handset to make sure that such functionalities were present. Although some participants claimed that economic hardship delayed access and ownership of mobile handsets, illiteracy also delayed ownership significantly. Many claimed to spend a significant amount of time negotiating with network partners (e.g. friends, partners, or parents) who

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served as opinion leaders to determine which mobile phone to acquire. Often, some individuals had to arrange with their opinion leaders to take them on a purchasing trip. Depending on their availability, this process could be fast or delayed. As Hannah, a 30-year old housewife in Tombo explained, […] before I bought this phone, I had to wait for more than three months for my husband to return from his fishing trip and find the appropriate time to travel to the city together to buy my phone.

When asked why she must wait for her husband for such a long period of time, she sadly replied that, ´Because my husband can at least read and understand the right phone to choose for me.´ Hannah’s husband was a high school dropout from Tombo Secondary School. He now works as a fisherman, a trade that has lured many youngsters to abandon education. Not surprisingly, Hannah’s narrative signifies an imbalance in the gender power relations and reinforces the notion of women subordination as a constructed reality in the domestic context. It shows how mobile technology connects interpersonal communication, interpersonal relationship, and domestic life. Additionally, Hannah’s case reaffirms the consequences of the gender literacy gap in the debate on the digital divide among men and women participants reported in Botswana, Ghana, Uganda, and Rwanda (Blumenstock and Eagle, 2012; Scott et al., 2004). It illustrates how the illiteracy divide undermines women’s agency in decision-making and delays the acquisition and use of digital technologies. Undoubtedly, the delay in ownership contributes to an increase in temporary digital gaps among the marginalised, not because they do not have access to the technology, but because they lack the required basic literacy skills to make timely ownership decisions. This qualifies Valente’s (1996) argument that high exposure to digital networks does not directly lead to equitable adoption (see also Marden and Podolny, 1990). Individuals´ levels of adoption depends on the condition(s) under which the process occurs within their personal networks. Even those who have the same conditions, for example low literacy, may adopt digital technology at different times since their personal network partners’ behaviour may influence their level of exposure (Valente, 1996, 73). Hence, physical access and ownership to digital technology by the non-literate should be seen as a social process with varying social thresholds embedded within the networks of an individual user. Furthermore, once the illiterate users acquired the technology, the notion of effective use comes into play. Effective use is considered the ultimate

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goal of the process of technological appropriation (van Dijk, 2006). For both mobile phones and mobile Internet, effective use involves the capacity to operationalise the technology (e.g. turn on mobile phones, make and receive calls, download and browse the Internet, etc.) in everyday practices to achieve individual or collective goals (Gurstein, 2003). These processes could be measured on the basis of the duration individuals use an ICT artefact (van Dijk, 2006), the kind of usage and the extent to which individuals integrate the technology into their social and economic livelihood (Gurstein, 2003). Van Dijk (2006) argues that different social classes, levels of education, ages, genders, incomes, and technology types have a stronger effect on usage time, and consequently usage gap. People with low social capital such as education use technology passively and take less advantage of the opportunities of the technology (van Dijk, 2006). An observation in Sierra Leone reflects these conceptual underpinnings of effective use. Illiterate marginalised individuals used the mobile phone or mobile Internet less for productive purposes compared to their counterparts with some level of literacy (individuals with better socioeconomic status). On average, the non-literates’ calls usually lasted under five minutes, while literate’s calls lasted for more than ten minutes. The usage duration is even worse when a comparison was made for Internet and text-based usage. Out of the 50 participants interviewed, fewer than 20 sent and received SMS texts more than five times a day. Fewer than this number (about six participants) sent and received text or used the mobile Internet more than ten times a day. In general, apart from promotional text from telecom providers, the content of text messages was often short and brief. Texts sent by non-literates were often composed by either a network of family members or friends. Illiteracy also hinders effective use significantly from the perspective of when and how the participants integrate the technology into their daily livelihood practices to engender its development benefit. Results suggest that simply making and receiving calls tends to satisfy the primary reason for owning a mobile phone for many. Any other uses beyond simple calls are either too complex for them or they are unaware of these functionalities. Mada, a handcart driver in Wellington, provided a good example. I only used my mobile phones to receive and make calls. I heard that some people can use the mobile phone to chart, look for job or make friends on WhatsApp. But I don’t think I can do those stuff with my mobile phone because the main reason I bought the phone is to make and receive calls, as long as I can do that, I’m fine. There is no need to break my head on stuff that I cannot do. (Mada, male, 31, handcart driver)

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This indicates that less productive usage is achieved. Productivity in the information society encompasses advanced uses of digital technology to attain the ultimate benefit for individuals and communities (Gurstein, 2003). This includes, but is not limited to, using digital technology to apply for jobs, access education, organise healthcare, access e-services, use social networks, and tap into cultural connectivity (Alam and Imran, 2015). Therefore, despite the motivations to adopt digital technology, illiteracy affects non-literates to achieve the things that form the integral parts of the digital inclusion in the information society. Language Sub-Saharan Africa hosts complex multilingual systems configured around former colonial languages and localised African languages (Dia, 2014). The former relates to the institutionalised European languages, such as English, French, and Portuguese, brought about mainly by European colonialisation (Prah, 2010). The latter refers to indigenous or local languages of African origin (Osborn, 2006). Dia (2014) argues that the implication of African languages on ICT access and usage should be understood in relation to both the former colonial languages and localised languages. In hindsight, the availability of these complex multilingual systems means that Africans should have adequate language capital and the capability needed to operate ICT tools, create and produce meaningful contents, and engage in useful communication. But a number of studies show that a growing linguistic divide exists between indigenous language(s) and language(s) of the ICT interface, which posits significant challenges for most Africans to access and make effective use of digital technologies. On the one hand, this relates to what I call a ‘double articulation of illiteracy’. Most Africans are trapped in between language dilemma, wherein a majority of people at the margins of society, particularly in West Africa, cannot read and write either the indigenous languages or the colonial languages. This dualism of the language divide reflects the way people access and make effective use of ICT devices in most sub-Saharan African countries. In Sierra Leone, for example, language barriers impede the active integration of citizens into the networked world. The country hosts approximately sixteen spoken local languages, and surprisingly very few people are literate in these languages. Equally, none of these languages is considered as an official language of instruction, nor are there any web or technological interfaces written in these local languages. Rather, English, as a colonial language, is imposed as the official language for written communication

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within the systems of education and administration (Bamgboṣe, 2000; Ouane and Glanz, 2005). Only a fraction of the country’s population can, however, boast of being literate in English. As discussed earlier, 60% cannot read or write. This implies that a significant proportion of the population experiences a language barrier to leverage ICT effectively and participate fully in the networked world. Scholars (Alam and Imran, 2015; Fuchs and Horak, 2008; Gyamfi, 2005; Scheerder, van Deursen, and van Dijk, 2017) have argued that the integration of people into the networked world requires more than gaining physical access to ICT devices. Apart from other restrictive factors (e.g., income, gender, norms, etc.), it involves having the choice of language and basic ICTs skills to operate (Osborn, 2006). Without the choice of language and an educated ICT-aware population, no community can fully participate in the networked world (Mutula, 2004, 128; Osborn, 2006). Comments from marginalised groups in Tombo and Wellington attest to this claim. While the majority claimed ownership of mobile phones, the language barrier stood as one of the dominant issues that undermined effective use. A striking example emerged from Abu, a fisherman in Tombo. Abu never attended school and his knowledge of language was limited only to spoken Temne and Krio, both indigenous languages. Consequently, Abu’s usage of mobile phones was extremely limited and relied heavily on networks of technology-aware family and friends. For example, the basic use of mobile phones, such as saving contacts, retrieving numbers, and calling and sending SMS, were often carried out with significant help from his social networks (a detailed analysis is provided in the later sections). This limitation suggests that having access to a mobile phone does not directly translate into its effective and productive livelihood usage. Limited knowledge of the language of the ICT interface influences equitable usage and integration into the networked world. Overall, the discussion in this section draws critical attention to some of the many structural or social characteristics that underpin how people come to access, use, and integrate technology into their everyday lives. Literacy and language barriers, extremely important, but often not the focus of digital divide research, impose a significant influence on how people access and use digital technologies.

Emerging Practices to Overcome the Digital Divide The previous sections outlined literacy and language as crucial impediments to digital inclusion. This section takes the discussion further to examine

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the extent to which literacy and language barriers are overcome to foster effective use of digital technology. It particularly draws an attention to three self-directed ingenious approaches – icons and images, educated individuals, and informal schooling – employed by marginalised groups in Sierra Leone to bridge language and literacy causes of the digital divide. Icons and Images The results from the Sierra Leone research show that the use of images and icons provide a novel way for illiterate users to break free from the digital divide and make effective use of mobile technologies. To reiterate Gurstein’s (2003) point, effective use encompasses the integration of technology into the everyday routines of users to achieve self- or collaboratively identified goals. Effective use may encompass simple SMS usage and mobile Internet usage to providing time-relevant information to support a productive livelihood. For example, in Niger, the mobile phone is reported to have enabled grain farmers to overcome market hierarchy and improve both productivity and welfare (Aker, 2010). The mobile phone gives the farmers the freedom to access price information in different markets, giving them the advantage to bargain for better prices for their products. Effective use may also involve a more advanced integration of mobile telephony into governance processes to provide efficient social services. In Kenya, for example, mobile phones provide the means for citizens to pay electricity bills, transfer money, shop in supermarkets, and purchase airtime (Wamuyu, 2014). Generally, while the uptake of mobile phones has proven to be effective to facilitate social change issues in Africa, we must not take it for granted because there are people who do not have the capability to use it effectively (Obijiofor, 2015). Using simple mobile technology requires some level of literacy (Deen-Swarray, 2016; Gyamfi, 2005). It requires individuals to, for example, identify, save, and retrieve numbers when needed, call and respond to calls, and compose and read SMS. Obviously, the inability for illiterate users to perform these basic tasks may undermine their ability to make effective use of the technology and achieve the equity benefits that mobile telephony offers. Research shows that a majority of marginalised groups in Africa have, one way or another, experienced the apparent access and usability divide of digital technology (Deen-Swarray, 2016; Fuchs and Horak, 2008; Mutula, 2005). However, to break free from this divide, some illiterate users in Sierra Leone employ self-directed approaches. These approaches include the use of symbols and images to save and identify mobile numbers of their acquaintances, make calls, and respond to messages. A typical example resonated from Alimamy,

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Figure 11.2 The interface of Alimamy’s mobile phone showing how he saved and retrieved contacts

an illiterate fisherman in Tombo. Alimamy can only identify numbers of his close contacts (e.g. family members and friends) by using the first or last three digits (see Figure 11.2). In another example, some users claimed to use different flowers or images to identify numbers of their close contacts. Arguably, this form of usage can, on the one hand, enable illiterate users to attain some levels of usability of mobile phones, and, on the other, limits usage to making and receiving phone calls. As Alimamy commented: ‘I use my mobile phone to make or receive calls only’ (Alimamy, male, 30, fisherman). Likewise, many tasks, such as configuring GPRS settings, creating and editing text messages, or searching for time-relevant information, are so abstract from the illiterate users’ real-world knowledge that no amount of icons or images can solve it (Chipchase, 2008). In hindsight, because of the users’ limitation in educational resources and the nature of usage, mobile phones are assumed to support tendencies towards closure rather than towards the opening up to acquaintances (Geser, 2006, 10). The implication, therefore, is that once illiterate users have learned how to make or receive phone calls to their close circle of contacts, their primary reason for owning a mobile phone has largely been met (Chipchase, 2008, 84). Consequently, the tendency to go beyond basic calling or receiving and to engage in other productive uses of mobile phones is very unlikely.

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Educated Individuals Research into the digital divide has consistently reinforced education as a crucial impediment to effective use of digital technology (e.g., Mutula, 2005; Scheerder et al., 2017; van Dijk, 2006). People with a low level of education experience a significant knowledge gap and usage inequalities. Therefore, having literacy skills can enable illiterate users to make effective use of digital technology to support social integration and economic development (van Dijk, 2005). Notable examples to bridge the education digital divide involved the use of technologies (e.g. computer-assisted tutorials) and traditional media (e.g. radio and television) as tools to deliver educational instructional materials, particularly to illiterate youth and adult populations outside the bracket of formal schooling (Aker et al., 2012). Several illiterate users in Sierra Leone draw on the knowledge of ‘educated individuals’ and the mobile phone as vital learning tools to acquire basic literacy and numeracy skills. Educated individuals here refer to early adopters or individuals who have acquired a certain level of literacy skills and expertise to configure mobile phones or mobile Internet. The participants sourced these literate individuals within their social networks of family, friends, or neighbourhood. They rely on them to perform tasks, ranging from creating and retrieving contacts, writing and editing text messages, to signing up and using social media. Typical examples of how the approach works emerged from both Tombo and Wellington, where the participants reported to have sought assistance from literate family or friends to use mobile phones. For example, when a question was asked about how illiterate users get by in both communities, responses included: ‘My son helped me to read and send text messages’; ‘Anytime I received a message, I asked my friend to read it for me’; ‘I always asked the shopkeeper near my house to top-up my phone credit and also save new contacts’; and ‘We are very lucky to have a secondary school teacher near us who always assisted us with any technical issues with our phone’. Another surprising example emerged from how illiterate users join and participate on social media sites such as Facebook and WhatsApp. Amina provided a succinct explanation of this usage. Initially, I knew there is something called Facebook on mobile phone. I have heard that people are using it to make friends abroad, but because I cannot read I was unable to use it […] by myself […] my younger brother explained it to me and he has been helping me to use Facebook[…] its being really hard for me. Because anytime I wanted to use it, I had to

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ask him or someone else to do it for me. Even though I now have friends here and in many countries, I can still not tell them anything private or secret without other people knowing about it […] this is really not good. (Amina, female, 28, petty trader)

Generally, the use of educated individuals by illiterate people to get by is not a new phenomenon in Sierra Leone. According to the research participants, it is an age-old tradition that has existed even before mobile telephony arrived in the country. They noted that non-literates get people, usually children and other relatives, to read and write for them, complete forms, and sign documents on their behalf. The emergence of digital technology, however, not only reinforces this practice but has also expanded users’ network beyond a familial cycle. As the quotes from the participants depict, a common trend across illiterate users’ experiences with the access and usage of mobile phones includes employing individuals within their social network of educated friends, families, and neighbours. Specifically, the sort of social-networking processes embedded in the articulation of literacy digital divide is precisely what Rogers’ diffusion of innovation proposes. A new technology diffuses through the social network system, starting with educated tech-savvy users who serve as change agents, to illiterate individuals with the least amount of technology awareness and knowledge and low social status (Rogers, 1995). The speed of adoption depends largely on motivation and the nature and ties among literate and illiterate individuals in the network system (Hilbert, 2011a). Indeed, a further exploration into the network relationships surrounding access and use of mobile telephony confirms that the illiterate users were more inclined to employ people with close ties and with whom they felt comfortable sharing their private information. This usage pattern corroborates Donner and Gitau’s (2009) study on mobile Internet usage in South Africa. The authors discovered that people with low education employed trusted and closely related individuals to use the Internet. Further development in the use of educated individuals in the Sierra Leone context characterises what could be referred to as ‘surrogate’ or ‘proximate literacy’ (Borooah, 2004; Chipchase, 2008). In the sense that an illiterate person living with a literate person(s) may not, by virtue of his/her illiteracy, be so badly off as an illiterate person living in a household in which all are illiterate since, in the former situation, he/ she is ‘proximate literate’ while in the latter situation, he/she is illiterate. (Borooah, 2004, 1720)

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To a certain extent, proximate literacy offers the advantage for illiterate people to participate in the network society. As the analysis suggests, through literate people within the social networks, illiterate users can configure mobiles phones, save contacts, edit and send text messages, and join social media networks. However, it is also important to note that the practice has ramifications in the sense that it can distort users’ privacy, limit productive usage, and reduce the possibility for illiterate users to explore additional functionalities. As mobile technologies have continued to evolve, additional functionalities such as the Internet and social media are becoming increasingly important for expanding human capabilities. The effective use of these functionalities requires textual knowledge, which is also a challenge to operationalise by most marginalised people with limited mastery of words (Sam, 2014). Additionally, while the practice enables illiterate users to use mobiles and to join network society, it serves as a temporary fix to a complex literacy problem. Literate users can of course temporarily bridge the illiteracy gap, but full participation in the networked world requires reasonable ICT literacy skills (Mutula, 2005). Informal Schooling Several illiterate users build on social network relations similar to those discussed above to undertake informal schooling to bridge the basic language and literacy barriers associated with effective use of digital technology. Unlike formal schooling, where teachers deliver learning in a structured and well-organised classroom system, informal learning is non-classroombased, unstructured education. Basically, in the informal learning process, non-literates use the mobile phones to teach themselves how the device works or have literate individuals within their networks teach them basic literacy and numeracy skills. In the former, self-taught method, non-literates learn the functions and the potentials of the device by adopting a trial-and-error method, an approach Chipchase (2008b) also discovered among illiterate users in China and India. What this means is that illiterate users explore the non-textual features and functions of the device, including saving contacts and making and receiving calls. In doing so, they can recognise and memorise the functions of different keys and symbols on the interface of their device. This form of rote learning enabled several illiterate users in Sierra Leone to adopt a mental model to use mobile phones. Mary, a petty trader in Wellington, explained how she learned to use the basic function of a mobile phone.

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When I initially had my mobile phone, I found it difficult to understand how these (pointing at the keys) work, but as I kept trying and trying and playing around with stuff, I learned what to do with each of this button. For example, I use this green button to receive or make a call and the red button to stop a call. (Mary, female, 29, petty trader)

Like Mary, several participants who used ‘dumbed’ or feature mobile phones (Figure 11.3) shared similar trial-and-error approaches. Here, colours and icons of the mobile phone ‘soft keys’ become important cues for illiterate users to develop their mental model and map out how the device functions. An observation and analysis indicates that, while the trial-and-error method worked for people with feature phones, it was less popular for individuals with China-made smartphones because of the fear of breaking the device. Those who eventually used the trial-and-error method on smartphones claimed to have first consulted literate individuals before making any further exploration of their device. Non-literate willingness to learn the functions of mobile phones also extends to learning basic literacy and numeracy skills, either through the device or external to the device. Through the device, illiterate users develop literacy and numeracy skills outside formal schooling by sending and receiving SMS, making phone calls, and using mobile money (m-money) applications (Aker et al., 2012, 95). Wagner and Kozma (2005, 16) argue that such skills ‘are the foundation for further information literacy and participation in the knowledge economy and information society’. An in-depth interaction with the participants revealed that the perceived usefulness and the demand for basic literacy skills to articulate their everyday practices motivated them to use the mobile phone for learning purposes. Externally, the literates take the illiterate users through the steps requiring textual and technical understanding. Much of the learning activities were done on a one-on-one basis, while others were carried out in informal places around the communities, such as telecentres, mobile shops, and Ataya bases (local coffee shops). Through the one-on-one approach, illiterate users negotiate learning with close relatives. For example, responses from both interviews and focus group discussions on how they learned basic numeracy and literacy skills included ‘I learned how to send text messages through my boyfriend’; ‘My brother taught me; my husband explained to me’; ‘I asked my friends to explain to me some messaging features that I do not understand on my mobile phone’. While learning of this nature increases the likelihood of a textually literate population, learning through informal spaces reinforces how collective social learning

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Figure 11.3: Popular dumbed mobile phones used by the participants

can help bridge the basic literacy digital divide among people who hitherto have limited ICT skills. The informal learning places serve as highly interactive social geographic spaces where many individuals, particularly young people, meet to chat, learn, discuss, and update knowledge of the mobile phones. Several illiterate participants claimed to rely on these spaces to learn and acquire diverse skills including repairing handsets, amending minor technical and network problems, changing batteries, and configuring handsets. Momoh, a local fisherman in Tombo, learned to configure his handset, download music, and use social media from Maturity Telecentre in the community. The telecentre is situated on the main road to Tombo’s popular fishing wharf. At the telecentre, people can buy SIM cards, airtime, and mobile phone accessories; repair handsets; download music; and configure handsets. Momoh learned, not only from the owner of the telecentre, but also from diverse networks of individuals who visit the Centre regularly to socialise or update their knowledge on mobile phones. Several other participants in Tombo and Wellington shared similar network-enabled collective learning processes. To draw on Rangaswamy and Cutrell’s (2012, 57) argument, this form of collective learning approach engenders collaboration, improves skills in using technology, and improves language skills and information-seeking skills among illiterate users.

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In sum, the non-literates´ willingness to learn the functions of mobile phones, either on a one-on-one basis or collectively, can be seen to be facilitated by their motivation and networking relations, which underpin Rogers’ (1995) proposition on how new technologies can diffuse through individual networks.

Efforts to Bridge the Literacy and Language Divide in Africa Having highlighted and critiqued the challenges of the digital divide in Africa, particularly in Sierra Leone, it is also critical to recognise some of the important efforts made towards bridging the digital divide, and provide additional recommendations to complement those efforts and also address some of the challenges highlighted thus far. To reiterate, the focus of this chapter is on literacy and language as fundamental barriers to digital inclusion in sub-Saharan Africa; therefore, the focus of this section is bridging these barriers. Thus far, it has been argued that, in an increasingly online world and due to the proliferation of mobile phones and smart devices, people need digital literacy skills and the ability to understand the language of the interface of the technology to be able to use it for productive purposes. The lack of these digital literacy and language skills poses significant challenges for ordinary citizens in Africa to benefit from digital technologies. Therefore, the effort to bridge this divide has seen the emergence of a number of educational initiatives directed towards educating young and adult generations, as well as the rural population, to be digitally literate in Africa (UNICEF, 2012). A typical example relates to the Project Alphabétisation de Base par Cellulaire (ABC) reported by Aker et al. (2012) in Niger. Implemented in 113 villages in two regions in Niger, the ABC initiatives integrated mobile technology into an adult learning curriculum to help learners acquire basic literacy and numeracy skills. According to Aker et al. (2012, 95), ‘the mobile phone technology substantially improved learning outcomes. Adults’ writing and math test scores were 0.19–0.26 standard deviations (SD) higher in ABC villages immediately after the program, with a statistically significant effect’. Porter et al. (2016) echo a similar improvement in young people’s numeracy skills through a mobile learning for mathematics project (MoMath) in South Africa. Likewise, a comprehensive review of mobile learning initiatives in Africa and the Middle East from 2006 to 2011 by UNICEF demonstrates a significant effort towards using mobile technologies to improve educational access and digital literacy. The paper ‘Turning on mobile learning in Africa

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and the Middle East’ examines the learning aspects embedded both in project-based interventions and individual, personalised uses of mobile phones. According to the study, mobile learning offers value propositions to the poor. Presumably, mobile learning extends ‘the reach of learning opportunities to remote areas, thereby supporting the expansion of educational access, and enables an improvement in the quality of education by opening up new avenues for informal, personalised and situated learning’ (UNICEF, 2012, 6). Furthermore, while no such digital learning initiatives seem to exist in Sierra Leone, this chapter, discovered a drive towards self-directed education by young people, often facilitated either through or around the mobile phones. As discussed earlier, through mobile phones, many marginalised people claimed to have acquired basic literacy and numeracy skills by learning to use the phone, using literate friends or family members, or by enrolling in informal learning programmes. All in all, two pertinent points have emerged from the battle to bridge the digital education divide in Africa. First, in most of the cases, it is reported that technology, such as mobile telephony, serves as a learning platform through which people acquire digital literacy skills. As Aker et al. (2012, p. 95) succinctly summarise, By teaching students how to use mobile phones, adult learners may be able to practice their literacy skills outside of class by sending and receiving short message services (SMS), making phone calls, and using mobile money (m-money) applications, all of which require basic fluency with the numbers, symbols, and letters on mobile phone keypads.

Arguably, the apparent use of mobile phone technology as a learning platform can enhance digital literacy and help bridge the digital divide in Africa. Users can acquire concrete literacy skills by using the device as a learning tool. They can learn and understand the functionality of the keys, make calls, and search and locate relevant information (Gyamfi, 2005). While using mobile telephony to mediate learning processes can help the poor to acquire digital literacy skills, it also has drawbacks. The successes of most mobile phone-based education initiatives are often undermined by technological and human resource limitations. Ksoll et al. (2014) argue that most of these programmes require smartphones or Internet access, which are often not easily accessible to the poor. This is critical in the mobile technology-mediated learning in Africa, as the majority of the poorer populations largely rely on basic mobile phones, which have little or no Internet capability, for their every consumption of technology. Additionally, mobile

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technology-based education programmes are often also complements to teachers and thus are heavily dependent upon teacher availability and quality (Ksoll et al., 2014). Another important limitation demonstrated in research suggests that people with limited or no education show certain negative traits towards mobile-phone learning. This includes inadequate cognitive skills, which limit their ability to transfer digital learning skills from one setting to another or from one device to another (Medhi et al., 2012). It is believed that such people also demonstrate low confidence in their use of technology for fear of breaking it once they are left on their own. Indeed, this was evident in the Sierra Leone case, where some non-literates confirmed not using a smartphone without the support of literate relatives or friends because of the fear of breaking it. A similar incident has been reported in many schools in low-income, rural areas in Africa where brand new donated computers are locked up because of the fear of damaging them (Trucano 2013). Second, the successful implementation of most digital literacy initiatives in Africa rests largely on buy-in from policy-makers and the active involvement of other stakeholders (Porter et al., 2016). Policy intervention has resulted in significant investment in capital and human resources to support education in recent years. As Vosloo (2012, p. 14) writes, Governments and other organisations have established computer laboratories in schools or community centres, built expensive ICT infrastructure, designed digital content and trained teachers to use ICT for instructional purposes.

A typical example of a government-supported initiative is the MoMath project in South Africa mentioned earlier. Support from the South African government galvanised the realisation of the project, which was implemented by Nokia and several government and private-sector partners. However, given that the digital divide also includes the social and local contextual dimensions (Mutula, 2005; van Deursen and van Dijk, 2014), it is important to consider the local context when creating or adapting policies. Increasingly, efforts are directed towards developing policies and implementing projects to facilitate access to digital technology, with little or no focus on the local contextual factors.

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Implication and Conclusion Since the 1990s, the discourse of the digital divide has shifted from the overarching emphasis on binary access to ICT devices (Fuchs and Horak, 2008; van Dijk, 2006), to developing the operational skills necessary to bridge the digital divide (van Deursen et al., 2016; Hargittai and Hinnant, 2008), to acquiring beneficial outcomes from its effective use (Wei et al., 2011; Ragnedda, 2017). Yet, high degree of disparities in technology access and use still exist between countries and individuals in Africa (e.g., Blumenstock and Eagle, 2012; Mumporeze and Prieler, 2017; Obijiofor, 2015), and, more importantly, the deeper social, cultural, gender, and linguistic divides behind the inequality of access remain visible (Mumporeze and Prieler, 2017; van Dijk, 2006). The obvious fact is that the digital divide research, to a lesser extent, discusses: (i) the digital divide concept from the users’ self-directed perspective – that is, how users negotiate technological and social causes of the digital divide, and (ii) the extent to which such usage accrues beneficial outcomes. This chapter has focused on these two determinants in the African contexts. It examined self-directed approaches employed by marginalised groups to identify and bridge language and literacy digital divide, and discussed how such approaches are linked to the productive use of ICT devices. It has been shown that examining the digital divide from these perspectives provides a nuanced understanding of, not only how users cope with literacy and language divides, but how we can best learn from them to bridge the digital gap in a sustainable way in Africa. The Sierra Leone examples have demonstrated that the widespread access of mobile telephony and mobile broadband can be beneficial for citizens to break free from the digital divide if only the informal approaches employed by users are complemented with formal skill development opportunities. The respondents used icons and images to save and retrieve contacts, relied on literate users to get by, and adopted informal schooling to develop basic operational skills. All these approaches suggest the importance of developing basic digital skills needed to use ICT artefacts. In a recent study on the Internet divide, van Duersen et al. (2016) link digital skills both to effective uses of the Internet and outcomes of using the Internet. While this chapter has revealed a similar connection, it adds that the ability to attain beneficial outcomes also depends on the level of usage and ICT-awareness knowledge. The aforementioned approaches adopted by marginalised illiterate users result in acquiring temporary skills, basic usage of technologies, and suboptimum beneficial outcomes. To determine who

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benefits the most from ICT use, the technology should be integrated into the everyday livelihoods of the users to expand social, economic, and cultural capital (third-level digital divide) (Scheerder et al., 2017). The current uses of ICT in Sierra Leone are limited in this respect. The usages only support communication and information-sharing among close relatives and the network of the users. According to Geser (2006), the use of technology within close social networks only supports tendencies towards closure rather than towards the opening up to new acquaintances. As the results suggest, it is unlikely for most illiterate users to go beyond closed-network supported basic use ‒ that is, being able to make and receive calls ‒ to explore its uses for other productive livelihoods. Two reasons can be given for this: first, once non-literates learn how to make and receive basic calls within their close circle of contacts, their primary reason for owning a mobile phone has largely been met (Chipchase, 2008, 84). Second, several non-literates have a low capacity to operate the mobile phone and to find out how the technology should be appropriately integrated into their economic, social, and political livelihood (Sam, 2015). In sum, an absolute use is what is needed to break free from the digital divide fully. An absolute use encompasses a simultaneous process of developing the appropriate digital skills, facilitating sustainable access, and linking technology use to social, cultural, and economic determinants (Scheerder et al., 2017). Indeed, many users in Africa have adopted self-directed approaches through socialisation and networked processes to bridge the digital divide, but, without the absolute use of technology, the digital divide is far from being addressed sustainably. Further studies should examines these connections in theory, practice, and policy, particularly how the digital divide policy is or should be organised to facilitate digital skills development, improve ICT access, and harness sustainable beneficial social, cultural, and economic outcomes. Having said that, the next section outlines some policy recommendations to deal with the digital literacy and language divides.

Policy Recommendations Bridging the digital education divide or digital literacy divide requires a proactive approach both in the informal and formal sectors. As demonstrated in this chapter, a majority of the population in Africa have little or no education. Addressing this literacy gap among particularly the adult population has seen the uptake of informal education systems across Africa to educate the non-school-going adult population. Research suggests these programmes

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provide a critical site to bridge the digital literacy gap (Aker et al., 2012). Adults enrolled in such programmes should be exposed to learning basic technological skills. The ABC project in Niger demonstrates a very good example, and it is recommended for similar initiatives to be prioritised and implemented by policy-makers to educate non-literates across Africa. The analysis in this chapter shows that the digital divide goes beyond access to the technology to include awareness knowledge ‒ that is, awareness of the opportunities that technology offers and how to use it to exploit such opportunities. Kleine (2010) also reinforces this point in her work on the choice framework by noting that the awareness about the existence of opportunities (e.g. email and online chat) that a particular technology offers to the users has a strong link to their educational resources, including technology skills. Hence, while learning basic literacy and numeracy skills is critical, this study also recommends the need to teach users the productive use of the technology. Acquiring this skill not only helps close the digital literacy gap, but also empowers the poor to exploit new opportunities (for e.g., job search and income generation) and live more independent lives. Learning these skills should be integrated into the adult education curriculum, as well as through the use of multimedia applications, touchscreens, and the establishment of digital learning spaces in public libraries and community centres. The digital spaces here differ from the conventional telecentres in that they create both access to the digital technology infrastructure and learning opportunities for citizens on a range of digital literacy skills. Additionally, policy-makers should introduce technology and innovation into the African school curriculum to teach students both basic development skills and their uses to support situated learning and active citizen participation in decision-making. However, this should be balanced by providing formal and informal training of teachers, to ensure the availability of appropriate and skilled teachers. In the short term, teachers should undertake intensive short-term training on digital literacy skills development organised by African governments in collaboration with development partners and ICT and telecommunication companies (Gyamfi, 2005). In the long run, a formal education is recommended to develop the appropriate human capacity needed to teach both technology development and digital literacy skills (Boyera, 2007). The final recommendation relates to the language divide. A majority of Africans, particularly in West Africa, are trapped between language dilemmas. They cannot read or write either in their local languages or the main languages of the interface of the technology, creating a ‘double articulation’ of digital illiteracy. Bridging the digital divide from this perspective

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can take different forms. One way to address this divide is by introducing voice applications on mobile phones, which only requires illiterate users to press a button to retrieve or place traditional phone calls in their natural languages (Boyera, 2007). The VoiceXML technologies can offer the possibility to develop standard voice applications for the mobile phone and web, which provides digital access to illiterate users (Vusani and Kogeda, 2012; Boyera, 2007). Another way to bridge the language-literacy divide was demonstrated by non-literates in Sierra Leone through the use of icons and images to retrieve contact numbers from their phones and make calls. This form of visual cognitive learning has proven to be effective for illiterate cocoa farmers in the country as well, through the use of tablet-based digital learning tools equipped with information icons and imageries (see Witteveen et al., 2017). Therefore, augmenting mobile devices with icons and images that users can press to access or retrieve critical livelihood information may create an inclusive ecosystem of technology users. Additionally, the language-literacy digital divide can also be bridged by introducing major indigenous languages into the school curriculum, and, to a large extent, supporting initiatives to develop content in widely spoken local languages (Deen-Swarray, 2016). The introduction of BBC Pigin website2 demonstrates an example of how local content-enabled web and mobile devices can help bridge the digital divide in Africa.

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Radios in Zimbabwe´. In Z. Mahmood (Ed.), IT in the Public Sphere: Applications in Administration, Government, Politics, and Planning (157-183). Hershey, PA: IGI Global. Takavarasha, S. and Makumbe, J. (2012). ‘The effect of politics on ICT4D: A case of Econet Wireless’s struggle for a license in Zimbabwe.’ International Journal of E-Politics (IJEP), 3(3), 40-60. Tarugarira, G. (2015). ‘Globalisation, NGOs and Multi-Sectoral Relations: The Zimbabwean Experience 1980-2012’. In E. Shizha and L. Diallo (Eds.), Africa in the Age of Globalisation: perceptions, misperceptions and realities. Brantford, Canada: Ashgate. Trucano, M. (2013, 6 June). ‘The Matthew Effect in Educational Technology’. EduTech Blog, The World Bank. Retrieved 8 June 2018 from ahttp://blogs.worldbank.org/ edutech/matthew-effect-educational-technology National Telecommunications and Information Administration (DOC) (1995). Falling through the net: A survey of the ‘have nots’ in rural and urban America. Washington, D.C.: ERIC Clearinghouse. Thomas, P. and van de Fliert, E. (2014). Interrogating the Theory and Practice of Communication for Social Change: The Basis for a Renewal. London: Springer. Thomas, P.N. (2009). ´Digital divide´. In: S. W. Littlejohn and K. A. Foss (Eds.), Encyclopedia of Communication Theory ( 310-312) Los Angeles: Sage Tonnies, F. and Loomis, C.P. (1957). Community and Society. New York: Dover Publications. Valente, T.W. (1996). ‘Social network thresholds in the diffusion of innovations’. Social networks, 18(1), 69-89. van Deursen, A. and van Dijk, J. (2011). ‘Internet skills and the digital divide’. New media & society, 13(6), 893-911. van Deursen, A.J., Helsper, E.J., and Eynon, R. (2016). ‘Development and validation of the Internet Skills Scale (ISS)’. Information, Communication & Society, 19(6), 804-823. van Deursen, A. J. and van Dijk, J. A. (2014). ‘The digital divide shifts to differences in usage’. New media & society, 16(3), 507-526. van Dijk, J. and Hacker, K. (2003). ‘The digital divide as a complex and dynamic phenomenon’. The information society, 19(4), 315-326. van Dijk, J.A. (2005). The Deepening divide: Inequality in the information society. Thousands Oaks, CA: Sage. van Dijk, J. A. (2006). ‘Digital divide research, achievements and shortcomings’. Poetics, 34(4-5), 221-235. Vanham, P. (2013, April). ‘Africa’s digital divide: still gaping’. Financial Times. Retr ieved 10  June  2018 from https://w w w.f t.com/content/ fdf0d7d6-9ece-3062-ab31-ea0e33e152c0

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Vannoy, S.A. and Palvia, P. (2010). ‘The Social Influence Model of Technology Adoption’. Communications of the ACM, 53(6), 149-153. Velamuri, S.R. (2003). Resisting Political Corruption: Econet Wireless Zimbabwe (Research Case Study). Available at SSRN: http://dx.doi.org/10.2139/ssrn.1009452 Veritas. (2017). Zimbabwe National Budget Highlights. Retrieved 16 June 2018 from http://www.veritaszim.net/sites/veritas_d/files/2017%20Zimbabwe%20 National%20Budget%20Highlights.pdf Vorhaus, J. (2014). ‘Function and Functional Explanation in Social Capital Theory: A Philosophical Appraisal’. Studies in Philosophy and Education, 33(2), 185-199. doi:10.1007/s11217-013-9380-5 Wagner, D.A. and Kozma, R. (2005). New technologies for literacy and adult education. Paris: Unesco Nations Publications. Retrieved 10 June 2018 from http://literacy. org/sites/literacy.org/files/publications/Wagner_Lit-ICT_UNESCO_05.pdf Wamuyu, P.K. (2014). ‘The Role of Contextual Factors in the Uptake and Continuance of Mobile Money Usage in Kenya’. The Electronic Journal of Information Systems in Developing Countries, 64. Warschauer, M. (2003). ‘Dissecting the “digital divide”: A case study in Egypt’. The Information Society, 19(4), 297-304. Wasserman, H. (2011). ‘Mobile phones, popular media, and everyday African democracy: Transmissions and transgressions’. Popular Communication, 9(2), 146-158. Wei, K.K., Teo, H.H., Chan, H.C., and Tan, B.C. (2011). ´Conceptualizing and testing a social cognitive model of the digital divide´. Information Systems Research, 22(1), 170-187. Wu, Q., Wu, J., and Ling, J. (2009). ‘Applying Social Network Theory to the Effects of Information Technology Implementation’. In Y.K. Dwivedi (Ed.), Handbook of Research on Contemporary Theoretical Models in Information Systems (325-335). Hershey, PA: IGI Global. Zimbabwe Internet Usage and Marketing Report. (2017). Retrieved 15 June 2018 from http://www.internetworldstats.com/af/zw.htm Zimbabwe shortwave radios. ( 2010). Retrieved 8 June 2018 from https://www.ifex. org/zimbabwe/2010/12/03/shortwave_radio/

About the author Steven Sam is a transdisciplinary scholar. He holds a PhD in Communication, Digital Technology and Social Change from the Centre for Communication and Social Change in the School of Communication and Arts, the University of Queensland, Australia. His primary research focuses on bridging the link between communication technologies, institutional and human capabilities

and social change processes (including economic growth, social injustice and political transformation). Steven’s work also extends to the anthropology of digital media and communication technologies and society. He is particularly interested in how all forms of media and emerging communication technologies shape individual identities and define contemporary society and social life. He is a research and engagement officer and sessional lecturer at the Centre for Communication and Social Change, School of Communication and Arts, the University of Queensland.

12. Kenya’s ‘Mobile Agriculture’ Discourse Unpacking Notions of Technology, Modernisation, and Development Sara Brouwer Abstract By using the m-agriculture discourse in Kenya as a case study, uncovering its dynamics through a Foucauldian discourse analysis, this chapter contextualises and historicises the emergence of new mobile phone technologies in Africa. In looking at the origins of m-agriculture, this chapter demonstrates how the concept of the digital divide, the accompanying underlying assumptions, and experiences in combination with neoliberal policies in agricultural information and service provision (agricultural extension) have informed the m-agriculture discourse. The chapter shows that m-agriculture initiatives draw upon concepts of the digital divide, the Information Age, and (digital) modernisation ideologies, which facilitate the creation of a narrative that advocates short-term technical instead of structural solutions. Furthermore, this chapter illuminates that, in the context of global neoliberalism, the privatisation of agricultural extension in Kenya facilitated the emergence of m-agriculture. Lastly, the Foucauldian discourse analysis demonstrates that the m-agriculture initiatives perpetuate their position as a legitimate provider of support to farmers by disguising the Eurocentric, modernisation, and technological determinist assumptions on which it rests. Keywords: Digital divide, Mobile phones, Agricultural extension, Foucauldian discourse analysis, Kenya

Mutsvairo, B., M. Ragnedda (eds), Mapping the Digital Divide in Africa. A Mediated Analysis, Amsterdam University Press, 2019. doi: 10.5117/9789462986855_ch12

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Introduction According to the ‘mAgri deployment tracker’, an interactive map that shows products and services that allegedly improve agriculture through the mobile phone, Kenya hosts the most mobile agriculture (m-agriculture) initiatives of the African continent (GSMA 2014a). Touted as Africa’s Silicon Savannah, numerous m-agriculture initiatives have appeared during the last decade, mostly developed by ‘socially responsible’ start-up companies that are backed by international agencies such as The United States Agency for International Development (USAID 2014), the World Bank (2011), and the Food and Agriculture Organisation (FAO 2014) as well as corporate telecommunication giants such as Vodafone (Vodafone & Accenture 2011). Seing the widespread uptake and popularity of agricultural mobile phone initiatives in corporate, international development, and media domains from 2010 onwards, one can speak of an m-agriculture discourse. The activities of the m-agriculture discourse appear in multiple forms (see Brugger 2011). M-agriculture initiatives can specialise in delivering information about agricultural production, meaning the act of farming. For example, information about farming technologies, inputs, or ‘know-how’ is sent to subscribers by means of SMS. A notable Kenyan example is iCow, a text-message application that permits livestock farmers to register an individual animal on a database, so as to receive tailored information about its reproductive cycle and optimum nutrition, as well as track health and milk record-keeping (iCow 2013). M-agriculture initiatives can also encompass market information and trade facilitation. These initiatives are mainly price information systems in which farmers receive up-to-date market prices of agricultural commodities in several local or global locations. This feature is often combined with a market interaction service on which farmers can connect with traders to detect the best buy or sale opportunities. One of the most renowned examples in Kenya is M-Farm, a smartphone application and text message service offering a market information service. It also offers farmers a trading platform that supposedly guarantees them market access (M-Farm 2014). Farmers’ support services and systems are also offered through m-agriculture initiatives. These types of initiatives facilitate, through the mobile phone, insurance for farmers’ inputs (Kilimo Salama 2010), the grading of products (e.g. quality standards and regulation of ‘organic’ or ‘fair trade’ certifications), and warehousing, transportation for, and trade facilitation with processing industries and the hospitality sector (e.g. Soko Shambani) (M-Farmer 2014).

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These initiatives make broad sweeping promises about m-agriculture’s positive effects for small-scale farmers. They present themselves as if they are the silver bullet to poverty reduction and socioeconomic development in the agricultural sector in Kenya. This is particularly relevant in the Kenyan context, as small-scale agriculture – defined as agriculture on plots that range from 0.2 to 3 ha – provides informal employment for more than 60% of the population in rural areas in Kenya (Government of Kenya, 2009, 11). While M-agriculture initiatives are attractive for international development agencies and create a thriving business for so-called socially responsible start-ups, several studies on farmers’ information and service access (Arusei 2012; Muricho 2013; Spurk et al. 2013; Wanjira Njeru 2013) indicate that their effectiveness for the majority of Kenya’s small-scale farmers is likely limited due to small-scale farmers´ marginalised position in the agro-food system as well as the country-wide socioeconomic and digital inequalities. This confirms Mutsvairo and Ragnedda’s remark in the opening chapter of this book that, indeed, the African digital sphere is home to several divides. The most straightforward research question for this chapter would revolve around whether m-agriculture’s promises live up to their potential, particularly considering the presence of a digital divide in Africa. In other words: Are the m-agriculture discourse’s truth claims only ‘true’ within the boundaries of its own discourse and other relating discourses? To reiterate one of the questions that Mutsvairo and Ragnedda raise in this book’s first chapter, studying the effectiveness of m-agriculture in the context of the digital divide would give insight into the challenges surrounding innovative methods that are currently being used to provide citizens with access to critical information and services that could help improve their lives. Yet, instead of evaluating on the ground experiences with m-agriculture based on empirical data, this chapter contributes to another concern Mutsvairo and Ragnedda describe: how historical and contemporary processes of modernisation and neocolonialism are present in digital realms in Africa. The main goal of this chapter is, using the m-agriculture discourse in Kenya as a case study, to contextualise and historicise the emergence of new mobile phone technologies in Africa. In uncovering the origins and dynamics of the m-agriculture through a Foucauldian discourse analysis, this chapter demonstrates how the concept of digital divide and ideas about technological progress, modernisation, and socioeconomic development modelled on Euro-American experiences have informed the m-agriculture discourse. Central to the f irst section of this chapter are the digital origins of m-agriculture’s discourse. I will elaborate on how theoretical ideas about

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and implicit assumptions in the digital divide manifest themselves in the international development domain and in m-agriculture in Kenya. I then investigate the agricultural side of m-agriculture’s discourse. More specifically, I focus on how top-down approaches and neoliberal processes in agricultural extension were decisive to the emergence of m-agriculture in Kenya. The choice to look at extension lies in the fact that, just as with m-agriculture, extension is a system through which farmers receive support in terms of information and services. Agricultural extension is defined as: Systems that should facilitate the access of farmers, their organisations and other market actors to knowledge, information and technologies; facilitate their interaction with partners in research, education, agribusiness, and other relevant institutions; and assist them to develop their own technical, organisational and management skills and practices. (Christoplos, 2010, 3)

Once the developments and ideologies that were of influence to the emergence of m-agriculture in Kenya are explored, I conduct a more in-depth Foucauldian discourse analysis and analyse how the discourse functions exactly. Besides using several types of secondary data (e.g. academic literature and reports of international development agencies and the government of Kenya) to research the digital and agricultural origins of the m-agriculture discourse, I have based the Foucauldian discourse analysis on the ‘Mobile for Development’ website. This website is a collaboration between UK Aid and the telecommunication lobby group Groupe Spéciale Mobile Association (GSMA) and the fifteen m-agriculture initiatives in Kenya listed on their mAgri Deployment tracker map (GSMA 2014a).

Digital Origins of the M-Agriculture Discourse in Kenya How did it come to be that the mobile phone and the complementing agricultural applications hvae been promoted among farmers as the way towards economic prosperity and the improvement of small-scale farming in Kenya? The answer to this question lies partly in the history of development interventions that have aimed to address the digital divide as well as discourses and policies that draw upon the concept of the Information Age, the information economy, and the digital divide.

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The Rise of ICT4D: from Telecentres to Mobile Phones Towards the turn of the century, responses to combat the digital divide were at the centre of publications, events, policies, and funding from the international development sector. The first major initiative was the World Bank’s (1998) World Development Report Knowledge for Development, which urged the introduction of ICTs in the development arena (Kleine and Unwin, 2009; Molony, 2005). In light of this ICT worship in international policy circles, the ‘ICT for Development’ (ICT4D) paradigm flourished, at least in the quantitative sense. Its archetype ICT project was the telecentre, promoted mainly in rural areas in the Global South, from the mid 1990s until a decade later. Replicated from the North American and European experiences during the 1980s, the telecentres in development projects were accommodated with phone and fax services and were later complemented with computers connected to the Internet (Benjamin, 2009). The rationale behind the telecentres was that they would curb the digital divide and empower ‘poor communities’ with knowledge and services. Many telecentres focused directly on farmers – through facilitating agricultural knowledge transfer or offering agricultural services, such as trading platforms, or through indirect services such as health, education, and government-related tasks or business support (Hanna, 2010). The Kenyan Government, supported by the World Bank, also participated in the ICT4D trend and launched an ambitious plan in 2009 to set up ‘Digital Villages’ in each of the 210 constituencies, partly aimed at farmers (Hallberg et al., 2011). The project, however, suffered from widespread failures that were also central to previous experiences with telecentres in Africa (Benjamin, 2009): the power supply was insufficient, bandwidth costs were high, and Internet connections were weak. Additionally, administering a computer centre was new for many locals and the government delivered minimal training. Consequently, digital maintenance was poor, viruses were widespread, and computers simply failed because of dust or insufficient air conditioning (Wanjiku, 2013). The telecentres gradually ceased to exist due to similar widespread failures in other parts of the world. Yet, as I explain below in relation to m-agriculture initiatives, the ideas of technology as a panacea for development remained. What changed was the instrument of information and service transfer. Seing the fact that affordable telephony has reached billions of low- and middle-income households in the Global South (Kleine and Unwin, 2009), development agencies embraced a new digital device: the mobile phone. A new optimism about the mobile phone’s potential surged

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through the ICT4D community and the M4D (Mobile for Development) (Donner, 2010) discourse was born. The mobile phone was praised for its potential to deliver up-to-date and customised information and services, in a cost-effective way, directly to the ‘disadvantaged’ population. Mobile phone-facilitated initiatives gradually appeared in virtually every traditional development pillar: health, education, democracy, environment, and, the topic of this chapter, agriculture (Heeks, 2009). The number of initiatives in the field of agriculture exploded (Duncombe, 2012).

Kenya as Information Economy Kenya became a testing ground for the different types of m-agriculture initiatives, as described in the categories in the introduction, because it was, and still is, heralded as one of the world’s upcoming information economies (Essoungou, 2011). The discourse of Kenya as an information economy shows overlaps with ideas about the Information Age, a period in which the ever-growing volume in activities taking place within the information industry (industries, service providers, and public and private bureaucracies revolving around information goods) has created ‘weightless economies’ that overtake the importance of other sectors, such as industry and agriculture (Webster, 2013). For example, the African Development Bank’s report Silicon Kenya, Harnessing ICT Innovations for Economic Development classifies Kenya as ‘an information economy – with a reliable and affordable network and applications – facilitates supply of domestic and services while promoting innovation, job creation and export potential’ (Ncube and Ondiege, 2013). The notable and internationally exported digital innovations M-PESA, a mobile money transfer platform, and Ushahidi, a crowd-sourced mapping application, have played a big role in materialising this discourse in practice (Africa Renewal, 2013). Another aspect that has contributed to this is that, apart from Nigeria, South Africa, and Ghana, Kenya has one of the largest mobile phone markets in Africa (Gathigi and Waititu, 2012, 204). Furthermore, the government of Kenya, backed by the World Bank as the main donor financing ICT innovations, strives, through various ICT parks and digital villages, to attain the position of one of the continent’s ‘top ICT hubs’ (Ncube & Ondiege 2013: vii). The creation of Kenya as an information economy, through discourses and policies, facilitated a hospitable environment to develop and try out m-agriculture initiatives.

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The Convenient Narrative of the Digital Divide After having analysed the f ifteen most notable Kenyan m-agriculture projects listed in ‘mAgri deployment tracker’ (GSMA, 2014a) in 2014, it became clear that these projects thrive on the idea of Kenya as an information economy and actively make use of the digital divide discourse in their rhetoric and activities. M-agriculture initiatives function on the premise that they bridge the digital divide. Their reasoning generally proceeds as follows: now that this digital gap is closing with more people accessing mobile phones every day, Kenyan farmers can now benefit from m-agriculture initiatives and will therefore have superior production and marketing information and services than before. Subsequently, they will embark on a modernisation journey and improve their livelihoods. For example, the digital divide rationale becomes apparent with the Kenyan m-agriculture initiative M-Kilimo. Funded by the GSMA mobile operator lobby group and the Rockefeller Foundation, this is a farmer’s helpline providing information about production and marketing processes. A GMSA case study on M-Kilimo states: Kenya has one of the highest mobile penetration rates among Sub-Saharan African countries. […] The mobile phone, then, is often the only piece of technology to which rural people have access and is ideally placed to bridge the knowledge gap and have impact upon productivity and income. (GSMA, 2011)

The assumption is that, once farmers make use of an m-agriculture service, technology will provide them with increased knowledge and help bring them prosperity. Placing modernisation in the form of technological progress on par with development and progress has a convenient function for m-agriculture advocates. By portraying unequal access to information as an exclusively material, technological inequality, the problem of socioeconomic marginalisation of small-scale farmers can more easily be fixed than through tackling structural inequalities. For instance, once a technical problem exists (i.e. has been created), it can be solved with a technical measure. This narrative has particularly suited the international development agenda. Escobar (1997, 91) explains: Development fostered a way of conceiving of social life as a technical problem, as a matter of rational decision and management [and in this

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case, as a matter of access to technology] to be entrusted to that group of people – the development professionals – whose specialised knowledge allegedly qualified them for the task.

In other words, in capitalising on a ‘bridging the digital divide narrative’, the m-agriculture approach advocates superficial and technical solutions for persistent and structural social problems. In that sense, the technocentric rhetoric of m-agriculture can be seen as one of the many digital paraphernalia of the development industry that disguises historical legacies of inequality and existing power relations. M-agriculture initiatives function as an ‘anti-politics machine’ (Ferguson, 1994) through which the small-scale farmer’s position is depoliticised. Ferguson (1994, 256) explains this further: By uncompromisingly reducing poverty to a technical problem, and by promising technical solutions to the sufferings of the powerless and oppressed people, the hegemonic problematic of ´development´ is the principle means through which the question of poverty is depoliticised in the world today.

Another aspect of my observation that m-agriculture initiatives equate technology with socioeconomic progress relates to dependency. As Michael Adas (1989) argues in his book Machines as the Measure of Men: Science, Technology and Ideologies of Western Dominance, technology and its promise of prosperity can be seen as ‘vital components of ideologies of Western dominance’ (314) that date back to the earliest colonial interventions by settlers and missionaries in sub-Saharan Africa, India, and China. Applied to m-agriculture, the creation of a narrative that the ‘primitive other’ lacks a material culture to be able to access agricultural information and services justifies the assistance of in Adas’s (1989) words ‘industrious men and their machines’, that only the West can provide. This assistance, then, often comes with strings attached: it is filled with interests that work in favour of the owners of the m-agriculture initiative and hinders ownership of agricultural information and services. So far, I have shown that the discourse of Kenya as an information economy as well as the notion of the digital divide, and the complementing apolitical technological deterministic assumption that mobile phone technologies provide an improvement to the circumstances of the small-scale farmer, have informed and given rise to the m-agriculture discourse in Kenya. However, the emergence of m-agriculture cannot only be explained against the backdrop of the digital realm. It should also be understood in the

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historical context of agricultural extension, which relates to approaches that have been adopted to improve small-scale farming and the marginalised position on small-scale farmers.

Agricultural Origins of the M-Agriculture Discourse in Kenya Looking at the history of approaches to agricultural extension in general, and in Kenya specifically, shows how m-agriculture became a prevailing discourse, and in that way, has become an acceptable form of agricultural information and service provision. Three elements of this history are particularly important to explain the current strategies of most m-agriculture initiatives. First, agricultural extension derives its ideologies from modernisation thought. Second, it has long adopted a one-dimensional top-down technology-transfer approach. Third, agricultural extension practice was subject to neoliberal policies, which led to the privatisation of agricultural information and service provision.

Promoting ‘Modern’ Agriculture: A Top-Down Information Transfer Approach As early as the year 1851, the British Government sent ‘practical instructors’ during the Great Irish Famine to rural areas to teach farmers how to cultivate alternative crops to the fungal disease-infected potato. Soon this system passed to North America and other European countries and extension was gradually integrated into the tasks of the government (Jones and Garforth, 1997). During the colonial period, European powers carried out extension in the colonised territories by giving technical advice to plantation- and landowners about cash crops (Blackburn and Flaherty, 1994). In the post-independence period, international financial institutions, NGOs, and multilateral agencies have heavily funded extension projects. Accordingly, the experience with extension practice in most countries in the Global South has broadly been in line with the extension discourse the development sector dictated. Government extension agents and later private actors visited rural areas with the aim to help farmers achieve higher yields, increase efficiency, and, ultimately, more output. Information included, and still contains, estimates of future prices for produce; guidelines on how to use certain inputs, such as the timing and intensity of fertiliser; and outcomes of new research products, for example, improved crop cultivars (Davidson and Ahmad, 2003).

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Throughout these periods, based on the classical diffusion of innovation model, the idea was that information effectively ‘trickled down’ from researcher to farmer, with the extension worker as medium. Farmers weer expected to incorporate the new information and technologies into their farming processes and, in this way, modernise their production systems. In principle, the goal was to replicate the industrialised countries’ experiences with progress and productivity in agriculture through the application of ‘science-based’ farming methods. Extension practice in Kenya, funded mainly by the World Bank and the European Union, was in line with this top-down, ‘technology transfer’ approach. Experts identified the problems, designed the programme, and implemented it. The local reality, however, often proved to be different than the intended blueprint. Most extension projects failed due to lack of community involvement, dependence on external funding (Gautam 2000), and the rigid designs that were not flexible enough to convey location- and system-specific information and technologies, especially considering Kenyan farmers deal with rain-fed agriculture and heterogeneous farming systems (Bindlish and Evenson, 1997). This history demonstrates, firstly, that mainstream agricultural extension approaches are based on modernisation ideologies. There is a (problematic) underlying assumption present that, with the help of agricultural extension, agriculture would transition from tradition to modernity. Such a linear idea of progress, which is modelled on European experiences, overlooks more holistic and circular small-scale traditional farming systems that cannot be translated into singular farming trajectories (Altieri, 1995). A similar dynamic can be recognised in the majority of m-agriculture initiatives, in which agricultural information is communicated in technical terms and measurements and is predominantly aimed at achieving crop or livestock productivity, instead of considering the interaction of different ecological processes in and contextual realities of indigenous or family farming systems. The history of agricultural extension, secondly, shows that it has long adopted a one-dimensional top-down technology-transfer approach. Most extension approaches assume that the farmer is a neutral entity that will behave according to a predetermined blueprint of agricultural progress. This tendency is also present in m-agriculture initiatives, as their mobile phone applications and text messages are limited in their capacity to foster nuanced and contextual elaboration and discussion about agricultural information and services. I further elaborate on both modernisation and top-down tendencies in m-agriculture discourse below in the Foucauldian discourse analysis.

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Neoliberal Changes: the Privatisation of Agricultural Information and Services Since the post-WWII welfare state ideology prescribed that the government was the apparatus through which socioeconomic development should proceed, most extension in the Global South was carried out by the public sector, until the dawn of the neoliberal hegemony in the 1980s. From that point onwards, the dominant global extension discourse – and consequently Kenya’s extension discourse – changed into a neoliberal model. In light of this shift, the main recurring themes advocated in extension were decentralisation, privatisation, cost recovery, demand-driven programmes, and revitalisation of public-sector extension. The central goal was to encourage competitiveness so as to enhance the efficiency, quality, and productivity, which supposedly were lacking when extension was a public good (Rivera, 2006). Besides the Kenyan government adopting decentralised extension policies, the implications for the practice of agricultural extension were that international development donors saw NGOs as an outlet for their funding. As they were private entities, they arguably worked more efficiently and used more effective grassroots and participatory methods than the government (Davis and Place, 2003). Another implication of the neoliberal climate was that public-private partnerships emerged. This meant that, with or without initial government support, private entrepreneurs could deliver agricultural extension autonomously and get contracted by the government (Rivera and Zijp, 2002). Kenya’s 2012 National Agricultural Sector Extension Policy reflects the neoliberal approach to extension, as it emphasises commercialisation and privatisation, especially in high-potential agricultural regions where private sector businesses can thrive. The policy also promotes pluralistic (meaning public-private partnerships) demand-driven extension services and cost recovery through ‘Fee for Service’ approaches (Kamau, 2012). Mainly advocated for by the World Bank and the FAO, the ‘Fee for Service’ approach means that farmers are only provided with services they want and for which they are willing to pay (Rivera, Qamar, and van Crowder, 2001). In light of the global neoliberal trend and the increasing role of the private sector in extension, the Bottom of the Pyramid (BOP) principle rose to prominence in the m-agriculture discourse. Introduced by corporate strategist C.K. Prahalad, the BOP strategy dictates that companies should take advantage of the untapped markets at the ‘poorest’ segments of society in the global South (Prahalad and Hammond, 2002). Promoted with buzzwords

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such as ‘inclusive business’ and ‘responsible capitalism’, the BOP approach is presented as a philanthropic formula that creates revenue and simultaneously eliminates poverty. The aforementioned ICT4D telecentre projects used the BOP narrative to justify selling services and products in telecentres while simultaneously purporting to support ‘poor’ farmers (Schwittay, 2008). Yet, soon enough, with increasing mobile phone use, companies switched to business models that combined the BOP approach and the mobile phone. International development agencies and agricultural and telecommunication companies realised that the mobile phone was particularly suitable to turn a profit. As the mobile phone facilitates individual ownership of agricultural information, it can be easily used for commodification, that is, turning information into a commodity to be traded in markets. As a consequence, agricultural information may be biased towards commercially vested interests and is not widely and freely available anymore, as opposed to when it was available in the media, information boards in village squares, and during visits of the government extension officer. The shift to a neoliberal climate demonstrates that extension provision came to stand in service of private companies, instead of farmers. This dynamic is also present in m-agriculture, as almost all initiatives in Kenya, under the guise of helping small-scale farmers charge fees for their extension services. I elaborate more on this in the discourse analysis in the following section.

A Foucauldian Discourse Analysis of M-Agriculture Now that I have exposed the digital and agricultural foundations of the m-agriculture discourse, which are based on of Eurocentrism, modernisation, technological determinism, and neoliberalism, in what follows, I undertake a Foucauldian analysis of the m-agriculture discourse to expose in-depth how the discourse functions. The French historian Michel Foucault is one of the most influential scholars in post-structuralist discourse analysis. A Foucauldian discourse analysis can be defined as a set of invisible rules that produce, control, and regulate the knowledge, values, and behaviour of people in a certain culture. Foucault (1983, 208) explains that ‘My objective […] has been to create a history of the different modes by which in our culture, human beings are made subjects’. This means that a web of discourses produces social constructs that are imposed upon individuals, like categories of

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gender, ethnicity, and class. This assertion can easily be applied to the m-agriculture discourse. The digital divide discourse constructs the farmer as someone that is in dire need of a mobile phone. At the same time, the ICT4D and modernisation discourse moulds the farmer into a figure who is poor. Simultaneously, the discourse of BOP portrays the farmer as an individual who is willing and able to spend money to receive agricultural information or services. However, if everything is socially constructed, and the actions of subjects take place within and because of a discourse, by whom and how is the discourse itself then created? Foucault explains that the emergence of a discourse depends on the conditions of the possibility of the discourse (Kendall and Wickham, 1999, 37). This implies that certain material elements, such as institutions, as well as immaterial components, such as the institutions’ procedures, need to be in place in order for a discourse to work. To uncover such conditions of the discourse, Foucault advocates for a historical analysis with the concepts of archaeology and genealogy.

Archaeology: the Mechanisms of the M-Agriculture Discourse Archaeological research analyses the mechanisms and dynamics of a discourse. Based on the seven characteristics of archaeological research that Kendall and Wickham (1999, 24-28) identify, I place Foucault’s archaeological methods in connection to the m-agriculture discourse. Firstly, archaeological research attempts to apprehend the mutually conditioning relation between the ‘sayable’, which denotes language, and the ‘visible’, which consists of the material world. This means that knowledge about m-agriculture is composed not only of words, but also out of material objects. For example, in relation to the iCow initiative, the ‘sayable’ is information that is sent via SMS: After every milking dip teats in mastrite and keep cow standing for 30 min. Do this by feeding her after milking, not before milking. Thank you for using iCow (iCow, 2013).

The mobile phone, then, encompasses the ‘visible’. A clear relationship exists between the two, since the mobile phone and its SMS method restrict the type of information that can be transferred. Because it is a Short Message Service, only limited information of an agricultural procedure can be communicated in a one-dimensional way. Hence, farmers do not get an opportunity to ask questions about different types of disinfectants, such as

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chemical-free options, or about alternative ways of sanitising without using products that are relatively expensive for small-scale farmers. The second characteristic of archaeological research is the ordering of statements or, in other words, the relation between one statement and other statements. Statements coming from academia and the media about the Information Age, the digital divide, and modernisation theory were picked up by development institutions and, consequently, the Kenyan government. Statements about neoliberalism coming from the Bretton Woods institutions influenced statements from the Kenyan government about privatisation in national policies and, subsequently, agricultural extension. Moreover, the neoliberal statements on a global level influenced Prahalad’s statements about the BOP, which, in turn, influenced the use of such statements in m-agriculture. All statements combined provide the ideological framework in which m-agriculture enterprises function and replicate modernisation and techno-determinist statements. The third characteristic of Foucault’s archeological research deals with the question: What makes certain statements repeatable? This answer lies in procedures that government authorities carry out to deploy statements about certain ideas. Agricultural extension and m-agriculture consist of procedures like farm visits and production and marketing information per SMS that are used repetitively to deploy statements about the modernisation of agriculture and the adoption of technologies. In this way, these statements are made into an all-encompassing truth: it seems like modernisation and technology are the only options for small-scale farmers. Central to the fourth feature of archaeological research is: How do statements produce subjects? Subjects can be defined as ‘ways of being and acting that humans can take up’ (Kendall and Wickham, 1999, 27). Statements in m-agriculture about what farmers lack – a gestation calendar (iCow), up-to-date market information and market access (M-Farm), weather updates (Kilimo Salama), or logistics (Soko Shambani) – produce categories of subjects. These, for example, include the small-scale, poor, or low-educated farmer and the non-adopter of technology. This is placed in opposition to subjects that are ‘modern farmers’ and ‘agricultural experts’, produced by statements about Eurocentric development and agricultural technologies. Fifth, archaeology aims to describe ‘surfaces of emergence’. These are domains in which objects are labelled, acted upon, and put into perspective. Foucault demonstrates this with the prison by considering it as a domain in which the ‘proper’ development of a prisoner as subject is determined. In the m-agriculture discourse, the surface of emergence is the economy,

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as farmers’ ‘proper’ development is measured in relation to the economy. Farmers are rendered as subjects to the economy in the sense that they are ‘underdeveloped’, ‘poor’, or ‘traditional’. The sixth point of archaeology concerns institutions. They obtain authority and set the limits within which discursive objects act. M-agriculture companies and their donors can be seen as institutions that, through the mobile phone, delimit the range of farmers’ activities. The phone functions, for example, as a monitoring device that controls the produce of farmers, as per the contract that M-Farm offers between farmers and suppliers. Lastly, archaeological research attempts to describe ‘forms of specification’, or, in other words, the ‘systematic ways that phenomena are rendered accessible to us’ (Kendall and Wickham, 1999, 28). Forms of specification regarding the m-agriculture domain include academic publications, (policy) reports, papers and case studies of international development agencies, and telecommunications companies on the digital divide, information economy, ICT4D, digital BOP initiatives, and agricultural technologies. These provide the vocabulary and concepts central to the functioning of m-agriculture.

Genealogy: M-Agriculture’s Relation to other Discourses A genealogical analysis distinguishes itself from archaeology through its focus on the implementation of power. Where archaeology uncovers how the discourse itself functions, genealogy is about the tactical deployment of different discourses by another discourse. It concerns the strategic advancement of archaeological research through power. In Foucauldian terms, power is, instead of an ‘evil’ force that suppresses classes, a productive neutral process that strategically regulates the discourse (Kendall and Wickham, 1999, 47-52). I this chapter, I have analysed the different discourses that the magriculture discourse controls, selects, and organises in such a way that the mobile phone becomes a legitimate medium to cater for production, market information, and trade facilitation. The strategic positioning of discourses creates a narrative that results in an m-agriculture assemblage, a discourse made of other discourses. The m-agriculture discourse uses the information society and digital divide discourses to present the mobile phone as something essential to transfer information. It then combines this rhetoric with the extension discourse to legitimise the quest for modernisation and the one-dimensional information/technology-transfer approach. It

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furthermore deploys the global neoliberal discourse to legitimise privatesector extension. Drawing upon the BOP discourse – which itself could emerge because of the neoliberal privatisation discourse -, it goes a step further and presents m-agriculture as something socially responsible that helps the poor.

Conclusion It is now clear how the m-agriculture discourse has come into being, on which other discourses it draws, and what the mechanisms are by which the m-agriculture discourse produces permissible modes of being and thinking. This chapter has shown that m-agriculture initiatives draw upon concepts of the digital divide, the Information Age, and (digital) modernisation ideologies, which facilitates the creation of a narrative that advocates for short-term technical instead of structural solutions. Moreover, the chapter has demonstrated that, in the context of global neoliberalism, the privatisation of agricultural extension in Kenya facilitated the emergence of m-agriculture. Lastly, the Foucauldian discourse analysis has revealed that the m-agriculture initiatives perpetuate its position as a legitimate provider of support to farmers by disguising the Eurocentric, modernisation, and technological determinist assumptions on which it rests. All in all, reflecting back on Mutsvairo and Ragnedda’s question that I reiterated in the introduction of this chapter, this dissection of the m-agriculture discourse in Kenya shows that historical and contemporary processes of modernisation and neocolonialism in the form of technological determinism and neoliberalism shape the digital domain in Africa. While I have revealed the ‘disreputable origins and unpalatable functions’ of the m-agriculture discourse (Kendall and Wickham, 1999, 29) by using a rather top-down approach to discourse analysis that mainly focuses on the macro level, I have not included the voices, perspectives, and daily experiences of m-agriculture users. The Foucauldian approach to discourse analysis has been critiqued for its lack of agency, since, according to Foucault, a discourse produces and controls its subjects (Dittmer, 2010; Laclau, 2012). Future research about the ways in which farmers are participants rather than subjects of the discourse would therefore be valuable. Ethnographic studies could, for example, look at how farmers intervene in the discourse by using it to their own benefit and, in that way, make use of the discourse in ways that can differ from what the discourse dictates.

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About the author Sara Brouwer is a PhD candidate in Human Geography and Leverhulme Doctoral Scholar at the University of Edinburgh School of Geosciences. She completed her BSc in Human Geography at Utrecht University before leaving for Edinburgh to do an MSc in Environment, Culture and Society. Her research interests include the political ecology of agriculture and food, the use of discourses and technologies in agro-food systems and everyday foodways in an urban context.

Index Accessibility 16 Agriculture 257 Asia 218 Bordieu 65, 78 Botswana 15, 17 Botswana 218 Cameroon 18 Capitalism 159 Censorship 18 Central African Republic 15, 76 China 18 Christmas 205 Communication 19, 21, 46, 53 Connectivity 16 Consumerism 159 Cultural studies 158 Decolonial 19 Deleuze 160 Democratic Republic of the Congo 18, 30, 76 Digital inequalities 16 Digital sphere 18 Divide 27-28 Durkenheim 179 E-skills 167 Economy 262 Education 20, 46 Education 233 Eritrea 30, 76 European Union 83 Everette Rogger 215 Facebook 83, 113, 159, 186 Feesmustfall# 102 Film 153 Football 113-130 Foucault 268 Gender 18, 27, 136 Ghana 218 Globalisation 159 Gokwe 113 Google 137 Guinea 15 Human rights 81, 102 Illiteracy 167 Inequalities 27, 48, 106, 114, 218 Innovation 17, 221 Instagram 186 International Telecommunications Union 134

Internet 14, 96 Internet 29, 31, 33-34, 74 Jokes 122 Kenya 82 Knowledge 20 Language 229 Literacy 225 M-agriculture 259 Madagascar 30 Mali 15 MDC 123 Microblogging 102 Mobile phones 45, 195, 257 Mobility 196 Modernisation 68 Namibia 15 Neoliberalism 267 NGOs 83 Nigeria 13, 15, 30, 76, 82, 174 Poverty 216 Qatar 77 Religion 187 Rhodesmustfall# 102 Rural 173-190, 216 Rwanda 13, 218 Senegal 123 Sierra Leone 215 Smartphones 14 SMS 204 Social capital 195 Social media 65, 75, 156, 186 Social networking 92 South Africa 13, 15, 19, 82, 91 South America 76, 218 South Korea 77 South Sudan 76 Students 94, 134 Tajamuka# 116 Tanzania 15 Tchad 15, 77 Technology 29, 33, 67, 80, 92 Television 55 Thisflag# 116 Togo 18 Twitter 159, 186

278  UAE 77 Ubuntu 173 Uganda 218 UNESCO 69 United Nations 28, 66, 78, 102 United States 83 Whatsapp 51-59, 113 Women empowerment 131

Mapping the Digital Divide in Africa

World Bank 79 World Trade Organisation 70 Youth 93 Youtube 186 Zambia 19 ZANU-PF 123 Zimbabwe 13, 18-19, 46-59