The African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights Volume 1: Political, Intellectual & Cultural Origins 1847013538, 9781847013538

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The African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights Volume 1

Related James Currey and University of Rochester Press titles The African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights: Volume 2: The Political Process Nat Rubner Disability Rights and Inclusiveness in Africa: The Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities, challenges and change Edited by Jeff D. Grischow and Magnus Mfoafo-M’Carthy Decolonizing African Studies: Knowledge Production, Agency, and Voice Toyin Falola The African Garrison State: Human Rights & Political Development in Eritrea Kjetil Tronvoll and Daniel R. Mekonnen Disability in Africa: Incluison, Care, and the Ethics of Humanity Edited by Nic Hamel and Toyin Falola General Labour History of Africa: Workers, Employers and Governments, 20th–21st Centuries Edited by Stefano Bellucci and Andreas Eckert Approaching African History Michael Brett

The African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights Volume 1: Political, Intellectual and Cultural Origins

Nat Rubner

JAMES CURREY

© Nat Rubner 2023 The right of Nat Rubner to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under current legislation no part of this work may be photocopied, stored in a retrieval system, published, performed in public, adapted, broadcast, transmitted, recorded or reproduced in any form or by any means, without the prior permission of the copyright owner First published 2023 James Currey ISBN 978-1-84701-353-8 (hardback) ISBN 978-1-80543-003-2(ePDF) ISBN 978-1-80543-004-9 (ePUB) James Currey is an imprint of Boydell & Brewer Ltd PO Box 9, Woodbridge Suffolk IP12 3DF (GB) www.jamescurrey.com and of Boydell & Brewer Inc. 668 Mt Hope Avenue Rochester, NY 14620-2731 (US) www.boydellandbrewer.com British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library The publisher has no responsibility for the continued existence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this book, and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate

To Rozi

Contents Illustration ix Acknowledgements x Note on Bibliography

xi

Abbreviations xii Timeline xiv Introduction 1 1 The Emergence of African Discontent

13

Wartime propaganda in the British colonial territories

16

Wartime propaganda in the French colonial territories

29

The Atlantic Charter

63

Part One: The Origins of the ACHPR 2 The Atlantic Charter and the Post-war International Settlement Africa and the Atlantic Charter

77 79

The UN Charter, UDHR and UNESCO – the post-war international settlement 176 3 African Political and Economic Revanchism and the Emergence of the OAU

203

The emergence of the African Group at the UN

204

The creation of the OAU

229

The OAU polity

250

4 African Intellectual and Cultural Revanchism – The Predicament of Black Disalienation

281

The universal Christian church in Africa

283

African literature, négritude, education and language

306

Contents

viii African socialism

339

The political rhetoric and praxis of intellectual and cultural revanchism 353 Part Two: The OAU and Human Rights 5 The OAU Polity and the Domestic Praxis of Human Rights

377

British colonial territories

381

French colonial territories

511

North African colonial territories

539

Portuguese and Spanish colonial territories

551

6 The OAU Polity and the International Praxis of Human Rights

564

The African states and the UDHR

564

The OAU and the CHR

578

The OAU and human rights at the UN beyond the CHR

594

The African revanchist reinterpretation of the canons of universal human rights

602

The right to development and the prioritisation of human rights

632

Conclusion 643 Index 647

Contents of Volume 2: The Political Process may be found at the back of this volume

Illustration Figure 1. Emperor Haile Selassie of Ethiopia with the other African heads of state, Heads of State conference, Addis Ababa, 25 May 1963. (Anonymous/AP/Shutterstock)  241

The author and publisher are grateful for permission to reproduce the material. Every effort has been made to trace the copyright holder; apologies are offered for any omission, and the publisher will be pleased to add any necessary acknowledgement in subsequent editions.

Acknowledgements It is a great pleasure to be able to acknowledge the many debts that I have incurred following my re-entry into the academic world as a post-graduate student at University College, London, and in the research and writing of this book. The bright light for me at UCL was Philip Schofield, Director of the wonderful Bentham Project, who first provided the intellectual stimulus and support for which I was searching and enabled me to imagine that a PhD was a feasible goal. It was then my great fortune to be accepted as a doctoral student at King’s College, Cambridge by Melissa Lane, who took a great chance on me, and, subsequently, on her departure to Princeton, by John Dunn. I hope that with this book they can feel that their faith in me, and, moreover, their personal kindness and support, which continues to this day, has been validated. I should perhaps also add that, unbeknownst to him, John Dunn’s commentary on social contract theory was a primary inspiration for the subject matter of this book. That great fortune continued when Richard Bourke offered me an honorary research fellowship home at the School of History, Queen Mary, London, where I have been residing for many years and where much of the writing of this book took place, and provided much needed on-going personal advice on how to navigate the academic world. More recently, Peter Brett read an early draft and his comments provided enormous encouragement then and later, when he played a significant part in facilitating publication. Finally, I am most grateful to the two independent reviewers who took the time to read thoroughly an extremely lengthy manuscript and offer up most pertinent comments and advice. Naturally, I alone am responsible for the views expressed and any mistakes that may have been made. As will shortly become apparent to the reader, the research for this book has required countless months in a multitude of libraries and archives. Among the many librarians and archivists who have assisted in the research, I would especially like to thank Sika Frepeau and Stephen Mayega at the AU Archives in Addis Ababa, Griselda Hofer at the International Commission of Jurists (ICJ) in Geneva and all the staff, in particular Julie Ash, at the Document Reading Room in the National Archives at Kew. Finally, I owe enormous thanks to Jaqueline Mitchell at James Currey who not only embraced the idea of a two-volume work but also imposed the much needed editing discipline called for by the initial manuscript. Above all, though, the greatest debt is due to my wife, Rosa, to whom the book is dedicated, for putting up for so long with my extravagant indulgence in pursuing the subject matter over so many years and for her editorial input and advice throughout the process.

Note on Bibliography Please note that a Bibliography covering both volumes is included in Volume 2.

Abbreviations AACC AAPC ABA ACHPR ACHR ACOMHPR AEF AHSG AI AOF CHOGM CHR CIAS CID CO CoM Decision 115 ECA ECHR ECOSOC EEC FCO/FO H.M.G. HRC IAUL ICJ ICOJ ICCPR ICESCR KAU MDRM

All Africa Conference of Churches All-African People’s Conference African Bar Association 1981 African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights 1969 American Convention on Human Rights African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights French Equatorial Africa OAU Annual Heads of State and Government Meeting Amnesty International French West Africa Commonwealth Heads of Government Meeting UN Commission on Human Rights Conference of Independent African States UK Committee of Imperial Defence UK Colonial Office OAU Council of Ministers Decision of the 1979 Monrovia AHSG to prepare draft of the ACHPR Economic Commission for Africa 1950 European Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fundamental Freedoms UN Economic and Social Council European Economic Community UK Foreign and Commonwealth Office/Foreign Office UK His/Her Majesty’s Government UN Human Rights Committee Inter-African Union of Lawyers International Commission of Jurists International Court of Justice 1966 International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights 1966 International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (together with the next above, ‘International Covenants’) Kenya African Union Mouvement démocratique de la rénovation malgache

Abbreviations MoI NAC NCNC NGO NIEO OAU OAU Charter PWE RDA SOE TAA UDHR UGCC UN UN Charter UNDHR UNESCO UNGA WASU WCC

xiii

UK Ministry of Information Nyasaland African Congress National Council of Nigeria and the Cameroons Non-governmental organisation New international economic order Organisation of African Unity 1963 Charter of the Organisation of African Unity UK Political Warfare Executive Rassemblement démocratique africain UK Special Operations Executive Tanganyika African Association 1948 UN Universal Declaration of Human Rights United Gold Coast Convention United Nations 1945 Charter of the United Nations United Nations Division of Human Rights United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization United Nations General Assembly West African Students’ Union World Council of Churches

Abbreviations for archive sources cited in footnotes CSLA ICJ MPP NA OAU OAU (L) UN (G) UN UNESCO WJB

Commonwealth Secretariat Library and Archives, London International Commission of Jurists, Geneva Office and Archive Kéba M’baye Private Papers, Dakar and Fondation Kéba Mbaye, Dakar UK National Archives, London AU Archive Centre, Addis Ababa AU Legal and Secretariat Department Archive, Addis Ababa UN Archives and Library, Geneva UNBISNET online archives and UN Depository Libraries, London, New York UNESCO online document centre and Archive Library, Paris Papers of William J. Butler, Robert S. Marx Law Library, College of Law, University of Cincinnati

References to ‘quoted by’ are to secondary sources. All other sources are direct. In the case of ‘reference from’, the source is direct but identified from a secondary source.

Timeline 1935 October

Italian invasion of Ethiopia

1939 September

Britain and France declare war on Germany

1940 June

France signs armistice with Germany and Italy

1941 January

President Roosevelt’s ‘Four Freedoms’ State of the Union Address

August

Atlantic Charter announcement

1942 May

British invasion of Madagascar – Operation Ironclad

November

US Operation Torch landings in French North Africa

1943 May

The Second World War on the African continent ends

1945 April/June

Founding conference of the UN, San Francisco

1948 December

UN Universal Declaration of Human Rights

1955 April

Asian-African Conference, Bandung

Timeline

xv

1957 March

Independence of Ghana

1958 April

First ‘Conference of Independent African States’, Accra

September

French Community constitutional referendum

October

Independence of Guinea

1960

Independence of French colonial territories

June

Second ‘Conference of Independent African States’, Addis Ababa

December

UN Declaration on the Granting of Independence to Colonial Countries and Peoples

1961 January

International Commission of Jurists (ICJ) ‘African Conference on the Rule of Law’, Lagos

1963 May

Founding conference of the OAU, Addis Ababa

1966 December

Adoption by the UN of International Covenants

1974 April

Carnation revolution in Portugal

1976 September

ICJ Seminar ‘Human Rights in a One-Party State’, Dar es Salaam

1978 September

ICJ Colloquium ‘Development and Human Rights’, Dakar

xvi

Timeline

1979 July

Decision 115, OAU Monrovia Annual Heads of State and Government Meeting (AHSG)

September

1979 UN Monrovia Seminar on the Establishment of Regional Commissions on Human Rights with Special Reference to Africa

November/ December

OAU Meeting of Experts, Dakar

1980 March

OAU Inquorate Ministerial draft review meeting, Addis Ababa

June

OAU First Banjul Ministerial Meeting

1981 January

OAU Second Banjul Ministerial Meeting

June

Adoption of ACHPR, OAU Nairobi AHSG

1985 December

ICJ Conference ‘Human and Peoples’ Rights in Africa and the African Charter’, Nairobi

1986 October

ACHPR comes into effect

Introduction Proposed in 1979 and adopted in 1981, the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights (ACHPR) finally came into effect on 21 October 1986 three months after a simple majority of OAU member states had deposited their instruments of ratification with the Organisation of African Unity (OAU) Secretary-­General.1 With Africa essentially absent in 1948 when the Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR) was adopted, the ACHPR thereby represented the first official statement of an African human rights perspective; and also the first non-Western declaration of human rights. It will become increasingly evident as the account of its origins unfolds that the ACHPR was quite deliberately intended as an explicit political and cultural reproach to the Western conception of universal human rights. For that reason alone, it is undoubtedly one of the most important documents in modern African history and a significant moment in Africa’s relentless confrontation with neo-colonialism in all its forms and the assertion of an African self-identity and personality. Although, therefore, it might be thought that an appreciation of the origins of the ACHPR was essential to even the most basic commentary on the ACHPR, it is an appreciation that most African human rights commentators, that is commentators on African human rights, have nonetheless been largely happy to sidestep. In the main, their preferred areas of focus have been legal and comparative analysis and critiques of the ACHPR’s legal and operational effectiveness. As a result, notwithstanding several book-length treatments of the ACHPR by Bello, Jallow, Kufuor, Murray, Nmehielle, Ouguergouz, Umozurike and Yemet,2 and 1

2

OAU (L) AHG/Dec.115 (XVI) Rev.1 and OAU (L) ‘Report of the Secretary-­ General on the draft African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights’, OAU CM/1149 (XXXVII) Annexe III: Draft African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights, OAU CAB/LEG/67/3/Rev.5. E.G. Bello, ‘The African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights: A Legal Analysis’, Academie de Droit International Recueil des Cours, 194 (1985), 13–268, H.B. Jallow, The Law of the African (Banjul) Charter on Human and People’s Rights (Victoria, 2007), K.O. Kufuor, The African Human Rights System: Origin and Evolution (Basingstoke, 2010), R. Murray, Human Rights in Africa: From the OAU to the African Union (Cambridge, 2004), V.O. Orlu Nmehielle, The African Human Rights System: Its Laws, Practice, and Institutions (The Hague, 2001), F. Ouguergouz, The African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights: A Comprehensive Agenda for Human Dignity and Sustainable Democracy in Africa (The Hague, 2003), U.O. Umozurike, The African

1

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The African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights: Volume 1

specific chapters on its origins by Baricako and Kannyo,3 more than thirty-five years after it came into force no comprehensive investigation aimed primarily at identifying a detailed narrative of how and why the ACHPR came into being has even been attempted. To the extent that the origins of the ACHPR are described, an explanation of the ‘how’ is usually limited to a cursory outline of the political process. Invariably, this outline opens with Decision 115 of the 1979 Monrovia OAU Annual Heads of State and Government Meeting (AHSG), which called on the OAU Secretary-General to ‘organise as soon as possible … a restricted meeting of highly qualified experts to prepare a preliminary draft of an “African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights”’, and concludes with the adoption of the ACHPR by the 1981 Nairobi AHSG after two years of drafting and political review. Much the same cursory approach is adopted towards an explanation of the ‘why’. Typically, the ACHPR is attributed to what is described as the human rights zeitgeist of the 1970s. As Mutua, for example, points out: ‘The African Charter is not an accident of history. Its creation by the OAU came at a time of increased scrutiny of states for their human rights practices, and the ascendancy of human rights as a legitimate subject of international discourse.’4 The agency through which the human rights zeitgeist gave birth to the ACHPR is variously attributed to three elements: International pressure in the form of threats by Western governments to withdraw aid, resolutions and investigations in the UN and publicity by international human rights non-governmental organisations (NGOs) of human rights violations; African public opinion; and African political leaders themselves appalled by the human rights violations committed, in particular, by President Amin (Uganda), Emperor Bokassa (Central African Empire)5 and President Nguema (Equatorial Guinea). Udombana, for example,

3

4 5

Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights (The Hague, 1997) and V.E. Yemet, La Charte Africaine des Droits de l’Homme et des Peuples: Ėtude comparative (Paris, 1996). G. Baricako, ‘Introductory Preface: The African Charter and African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights’, M. Evans/R. Murray (eds), The African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights: The System in Practice 1986–2006, 2nd edn (Cambridge, 2008), 1–19 (added to 2nd edn) and E. Kannyo, ‘The Banjul Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights: Genesis and Political Background’, C.E. Welch, Jr./R.I. Meltzer (eds), Human Rights and Development in Africa (Albany, 1984), 128–151. The most extensive analysis of the ACHPR’s origins is provided by Chapter 1: The genesis of the African Charter, F. Ouguergouz, The African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights: it comprises some 30 out of its 1,000 or so pages. M. wa Mutua, ‘The African Human Rights System: A Critical Evaluation’, 4, https://digitalcommons.law.buffalo.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1015&context=other_scholarship, last accessed 13 March 2023. Bokassa proclaimed himself Emperor in December 1976 and was crowned in December 1977; accordingly the Central African Republic (CAR) became the Central African Empire (CAE).

Introduction

3

concluded that: ‘In 1981, in response to growing human rights pressure at home and from abroad, African heads of state adopted the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights’;6 Kisanga, a long-standing Commissioner of the African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights (ACOMHPR), similarly described ‘growing demands by African peoples for the protection of human rights not only at the national and international levels but also at the regional level … in particular, African peoples and governments expressed deep concern … against the gross violations of human rights which were being committed in some of the African countries’;7 and Wohlgemuth and Sall asserted that the ACHPR was finally adopted ‘after strong pressure from the African public, NGOs and the international community’.8 One of the few dissenting voices is that of Kufuor who firmly dismissed the possibility that President Carter (US), the Uganda/ Tanzania war or the human rights abuses by President Amin, Emperor Bokassa and President Nguema played a substantial part in bringing about the ACHPR.9 Further, considerable, significance as to the ‘why’ is also attached to a litany of pedagogic African human rights conferences organised by the UN and international NGOs. They commence with the 1961 International Commission of Jurists (ICJ) ‘African Conference on the Rule of Law’, Lagos (1961 ICJ Lagos conference), the first occasion on which a call was made for an African regional human rights convention, and end with the 1979 UN Monrovia Seminar on the Establishment of Regional Commissions on Human Rights with Special Reference to Africa (1979 UN Monrovia Seminar), which is usually intimated as having inspired the ACHPR, although it post-dates Decision 115 by several months. Last, but not least, almost all African human rights commentators have also considered it significant that most African constitutions of the period either expressed adherence to the UDHR/the Rights of Man or incorporated a Bill of Rights. This, it is suggested, is meaningful evidence of an underlying African empathy with the UDHR and human rights more generally to which adoption of the ACHPR is thereby deemed to be an obvious corollary. Although there may be a modicum of truth in some of these explanations, they are essentially specious, superficial at best, and little more than over-­exuberant wishful thinking by human rights advocates. They bring to mind Dongala’s 6

N.J. Udombana, ‘Towards the African Court on Human and Peoples’ Rights: Better Late than Never’, Yale Human Rights and Development Law Journal, 3 (2000), 46. 7 R.H. Kisanga, ‘Fundamental Rights and Freedoms in Africa: The Work of the African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights’, C.M. Peter/I.H. Juma (eds), Fundamental Rights and Freedoms in Tanzania (Dar es Salaam, 1998), 26. 8 L. Wohlgemuth/E. Sall, ‘Introduction: Human Rights, Regionalism, and the Dilemmas of Democracy in Africa’, L. Wohlgemuth/E. Sall (eds), Human Rights, Regionalism, and the Dilemmas of Democracy in Africa (Dakar, 2006), 4. 9 K.O. Kufuor, The African Human Rights System: Origin and Evolution, 16–35.

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wonderfully evocative observation in his satirical novel: ‘After slavery, colonialism, neocolonialism, and scientific socialism, democracy descended upon us one August morning, in the middle of the dry season.’10 What is absent from such explanations – beyond the general, non-specific, intimations – is, firstly, a detailed explanation of the agency, a linking of the dots, by which, jointly or severally, these various elements brought about the ACHPR; secondly, a more precise explanation of why it was that, after so many years of absolute opposition, in an apparent Damascene conversion, African political leaders abruptly accepted the idea of the ACHPR; and, thirdly, why it should be imagined that African political leaders were any more committed to the ACHPR than they had been to the human rights declarations and obligations in their national constitutions. In the first instance, this indifference to the origins of the ACHPR can largely be attributed to the overweening preoccupation of the human rights and international law specialists, who dominate African human rights studies, with the praxis of human rights. More fundamentally, though, it has been fostered by a pervasive, pre-emptive presumption that in a rather general and convenient manner locates the origins of the ACHPR in, what is predicated as, an inexorable universal human rights tradition of several thousand years and an aspiration to emulate the universal paradigm of the UDHR. One of the most all-embracing expressions of this universalism was rendered by Ramcharan, who was an Assistant to van Boven, Director of the United Nations Division of Human Rights (UNDHR), at the time of the political process of the ACHPR. He described ‘the rolling history of the global development of human rights in which different societies have learnt about law, justice, and human rights from each other’ and therefore asserted that: ‘The idea of human rights is not a Western one, but is rather part of the intellectual patrimony of human-kind’. More specifically, he claimed that the UDHR ‘drew upon the intellectual well-springs of Africa, the Americas, Asia, and Europe in a distillation of universal rights’ and, in its turn, ‘inspired regional instruments to protect human rights … all of which have reaffirmed its precepts. This may be seen in the constitution of the OAU … the African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights’.11 A rather similar conclusion was drawn by Vincent who asserted that the ACHPR should be understood in terms of the process by which ‘human rights arrangeE. Dongala (trans. J. Rejouis/V. Vinokurov), Little Boys Come from the Stars (New York, 2002), 155. 11 B. Ramcharan, Contemporary Human Rights Ideas (London, 2008), 2, 58 and ‘Human Rights: Universality and Cultural Diversity’, F. Coomans et alia (eds), Rendering Justice to the Vulnerable: Liber Amicorum in Honour of Theo van Boven (The Hague, 2000), 239–240. However, UNESCO, The Birthright of Man: A Selection of Texts Presented under the Direction of Jeanne Hersch (Paris, 1969), which sought ‘to assemble a collection anticipating the philosophy implicit in the Universal Declaration of 1948’, does not include a single sub-Saharan African text. 10

Introduction

5

ments at the regional level are made to carry global standards … The United Nations … encouraged the establishment of European, American, Arab and African institutions for this purpose, and, for their part, the regions have seen themselves as the local carriers of a global message.’12 Morsink, in his exegesis of Vincent’s assertion, would gushingly observe that: ‘The “global message” and “universal standard” … must be that of the Universal Declaration.’13 Vincent’s sense was also taken up by Reus-Smit who describes an evolving ‘global ecumene’ in human rights in which ‘cultural particularism’ gives way to a ‘negotiated universalism’. He denounces ‘a given in most of the literature’ that the ‘international human rights regime’ was a ‘Western project’ on the basis that this misrepresents the UDHR’s drafting process, which was ‘a deliberate, if nonetheless flawed, exercise in intercultural dialogue’. Moreover, that ‘it also sits uncomfortably with the diversity of states that negotiated the International Covenants’. Indeed, the participation of the ‘newly independent postcolonial states … had a profound effect on the resulting treaties’ and led to ‘the universality of the resulting norms, and the issue of implementation’. More specifically, that ‘colonial peoples played a key role’ in universalising individual rights by ‘contributing first to the strong international codification of civil and political rights and second to fighting the idea that there could be imperial zones of the international system in which such rights did not apply’.14 As will become evident, this analysis is not borne out by the facts. The effect of such universalism has been to appropriate the ACHPR as, essentially, a human rights text and only incidentally an African political and cultural text, and, thereby, subvert the need for, or value in, a more detailed consideration of the particularities of the ACHPR’s African origins. With good reason, therefore, Shivji, in his critique of African human rights commentaries, has pronounced that: ‘The Human Rights Discourse on and in Africa is intellectually backward.’15 The main aim of this book is, therefore, to investigate what has hitherto been of simply marginal interest and, consequently, of neglect with a view to presenting an interpretation of the ACHPR process that incorporates a more detailed and broader account of ‘how’ and a more considered appreciation of ‘why’ the R.J. Vincent, Human Rights and International Relations (Cambridge, 1986), 101. J. Morsink, The Universal Declaration of Human Rights: Origins, Drafting, and Intent (Philadelphia, 1999), 20. 14 C. Reus-Smit, ‘Human Rights and the Social Construction of Sovereignty’, Review of International Studies, 27/4 (2001), 519–538, ‘Human Rights in a Global Ecumene’, International Affairs, 87/5 (2011), 1205–1218 and ‘Roundtable: The International Rule of Law, International Law and the Mediation of Culture’, Ethics & International Affairs, 28/1 (2014), 76–77. I am grateful to Peter Brett, Queen Mary, University of London, for pointing me in the direction of Reus-Smit. 15 I.G. Shivji, The Concept of Human Rights in Africa (London, 1989), vii. 12 13

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The African Charter on Human and Peoples’ Rights: Volume 1

ACHPR came into being; and thereby also of how it ought to be understood. This requires a repositioning of the ACHPR process within an African context so as to better understand the issues that gave it rise and why it should be viewed as primarily a pivotal African political text asserted by African political leaders, whose significance extends far beyond human rights, and not simply an inevitable Whiggish step in the continuum of a so-called universal human rights tradition. In essence, to identify the African question to which the ACHPR can be said to be the African answer. As to the approach adopted, it is undoubtedly the case that without the UDHR there would have been no ACHPR. Nevertheless, it still needs to be said that the origins of the ACHPR can only be located in a context drawn from the African political and cultural womb which gave it birth. If, therefore, a coherent or discernible path is to be identified, the crucial primary lines of enquiry are necessarily likely to be found rather more in African attitudes towards human rights and the UDHR, and the wider African political and cultural currents and ideas of the time, than in a dubious global human rights tradition stretching back several thousand years to the Code of Hammurabi or Antigone. To borrow from a nineteenth-century British Foreign Minister, the new world, Africa, must be called into existence to redress the balance of the old.16 To that end, the aim is to let Africa speak for itself so as to establish how Africans, and in practice that ultimately meant African political leaders, understood the process and the issues involved. As to how the terms ‘Africa’ or ‘African’ are to be understood, a question still widely debated within African studies, they are simply assumed from the self-definition of the OAU. The book is in two volumes, and four parts, framed by Chapter 1 (Volume 1) and the Conclusion (Volume 2), arranged largely on a thematic basis but following, in as far as possible, a chronological order so as to track the path along which the ACHPR process moved. This format was essentially dictated by the need, set out in the first two parts, to identify the dominant African political and cultural ideas of the time, the principles and politics upon which the OAU was founded and functioned and African attitudes towards human rights domestically and internationally, most particularly at the UN. Without an appreciation of that fundamental context, the political account of the ACHPR process and a sense of how the ACHPR should be understood, set out in the fourth part, would otherwise be scarcely intelligible. The third part looks at Africa’s international relations with Western governments, the UN and NGOs in order to establish definitively why it is that, contrary to the view put forward by many African human rights commentators, they played almost no part in the ACHPR process. 16 Secretary of State Canning, House of Commons 12 December 1826; of course, the context was the US not Africa. Unless indicated otherwise, all questions or speeches in the House of Commons are referenced from https://api.parliament. uk/historic-hansard/sittings/C20, the official historic Hansard website.

Introduction

7

Chapter 1 and Parts One and Two are set out in Volume 1: Political, Intellectual and Cultural Origins. Parts Three and Four and the Conclusion with the Appendices and Bibliography in Volume 2: The Political Process. As most historians will attest, origins are notoriously open-ended. How far back and how wide-ranging is it necessary to go to establish origins? In as much, therefore, as it is possible to locate a starting point, Allied and Vichy France wartime propaganda, most notably the 1941 Atlantic Charter, is posited as ground zero of the ACHPR process. Why that particular moment? As described in Chapter 1, the contradiction inherent in that propaganda served to unmask the clear political disconnect between the assertion that the war was being fought for the freedom, or benefit, of all and the actual racial discrimination practice on the ground. Moreover, it did so at a moment in time in which the possibilities for change were suddenly everywhere in the air and historic political relationships fragile. A disconnect, therefore, that led to an increasing clamour within Africa for a major reassessment of the existing basis of colonial relations and a corresponding significant potential for resentment were such aspirations to fall on stony ground. It is also, it is suggested, the effective take-off point of an, albeit already immanent, movement of African awakening and disalienation determined to rise up against the commanding heights of Western universalism. That is, a far broader existential resentment arising out of a growing sense among educated African opinion that Western universalism devoid of African input or perspective was being foisted on Africa and that Africa must therefore speak out in its own defence. It would be precisely that sense of exclusion and impelling need to speak out that would eventually prove to be the one unifying theme that would bind the ACHPR process together and dominate discussion of the idea and content of the ACHPR. How this political disconnect and emerging resentment went forth and multiplied is described in Part One: The Origins of the ACHPR (Chapters 2 to 4), a survey of the political, intellectual and cultural development of African revanchism. In so doing, it illuminates the context in which the ideas and hence much of the content of the ACHPR were conceived and nurtured and the constricting and faction-riven OAU path that the ACHPR process would then be obliged to follow, and therefore the window through which it should be viewed. As the Second World War was coming to an end in Africa, self-determination increasingly emerged as the central question of African political life. Chapter 2 therefore describes how African demands for a substantive change in the basis of colonial relations, invariably grounded in the encouragement seemingly held out by Point 3 of the Atlantic Charter, were rebuffed – in the first instance, by the paltry response of the colonial powers to African aspirations for political advance leading to self-government and independence. But also, and significantly for the ACHPR process, by the failure of the post-war international settlement, not least the UDHR, to take African aspirations and interests

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into account. Above all by its continuing accommodation of colonialism. Even worse, whereas in other parts of the world colonial territories were moving fast towards independence, Africa was being left behind. It was hard therefore for Africans to conclude that such treatment was anything other than the result of Western racial prejudice thereby fuelling not only more emboldened demands for political independence but also a broad-based African intellectual and cultural revanchist resentment. Africa would not forget and that memory would inform the process and content of the ACHPR. Fifteen years later, with many of the African colonial territories now independent, or on the path to independence, that pent-up dam of existential resentment broke and began to spill out. On the one side, as described in Chapter 3, the march of African political and economic revanchism sought to confront and then overturn the post-war international settlement. The sine qua non and fulcrum of that revanchism, after several years of false starts, was to be the OAU. At the UN and in its committees and agencies, the African states came together as a bloc and, together with the Soviet bloc and that of the other lesser-­developed countries, demanded their right to a level of representation proportionate to their numbers. The levers of representation were then deployed to rewrite the post-war international settlement, primarily in respect of the colonial arrangements and in furtherance of their demand for economic development support. On the other side, the creation of the OAU also meant that it became the acknowledged forum in which any discussion of African-wide policy would have to take place and find acceptance. As such, the OAU’s founding principles, modus operandi and divisions would become the obstacles which would threaten the path of the ACHPR process, and thereby also influence the philosophy underlying the content of the ACHPR itself. The most important of those founding principles were: Non-interference in member states’ internal affairs (from whatever source); that Africa’s problems must be resolved by Africa alone through the medium of the OAU, and not the UN; and the primacy of the OAU AHSG in the decision-making process of the OAU, a primacy that would, of necessity, have to be incorporated into the operational mechanism of the ACHPR. The content of the ACHPR would also be decisively determined by the need to propitiate the ideological divisions within the OAU, centred on the Cold War, without which it would be impossible for the necessary consensus for Decision 115 and final adoption of the ACHPR to be reached at the OAU AHSG. The flip side of the coin of African political revanchism was African intellectual and cultural revanchism, which was equally eager to confront the commanding heights of Western universalism. The breadth and symbiotic nature of that revanchism are illustrated in Chapter 4 by reference to the specific examples of the African religious reformation, African literature and African socialism. This tidal wave of revanchism dominated not only the thinking of educated African opinion but also African political leaders who, as described, gave it political expression in the importance they placed on the promotion of African art and

Introduction

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in the 1976 Cultural Charter for Africa. It even permeated the mindset of the less intellectual second generation of African political/military leaders who would have to support the ACHPR in the OAU AHSG if it was ever to have a chance of being adopted. That was essential as, in due course, the arguments put forward in the various strands of those confrontations would also dominate the arguments later identifiable in the possibility and content of the ACHPR. In this context, it may be helpful to explain the use of the term ‘revanchism’, a term more usually associated with the political movement in France after the 1870–71 war with Prussia that sought the recovery of the ‘lost’ territories of Alsace-Lorraine. Herein, it is intended to convey the depth and intensity of black Africa’s obsession with ‘recovery’: Initially, the political recovery of lost territories, as expressed in political independence. Thereafter, in Africa’s struggle against what was termed neo-colonialism – the recovery of economic independence and the recovery and assertion of an identity, heritage and culture hitherto denied by Western universalism. This sense of recovery would be described by, for example, Achebe as ‘the reclamation of the power of self-definition to recast Africa’s … image’ and of ‘the need for blacks who had been victims of historical dispossession to appreciate and elevate their cultures’.17 A similar image of recovery was also employed by OAU Secretary-General Kodjo (Togo) in his opening address to the 1979 Dakar Meeting of Experts, which had been assigned the task of preparing the first draft of the ACHPR. Borrowing from Césaire, the Martinique poet and originator, together with President Senghor (Senegal), of the concept of négritude, he advised the experts that the task before them was ‘to liberate the people … to crown the process of self-assertion, “of the revival of heritage fallen and of the awareness of lost kingdoms”’.18 How that revanchist resentment was echoed directly in the African approach to human rights and the UDHR specifically in, respectively, the domestic and international spheres, and the extent to which that approach can then be said to inform or anticipate the ACHPR process, is described in Part Two: The OAU and Human Rights (Chapters 5 and 6). As many African human rights commentators like to emphasise, most African independence constitutions included a Bill of Rights and/or a commitment to the UDHR/Rights of Man. Chapter 5 therefore looks closely at the drafting process of the African independence constitutions. How exactly did such inclusions come about? What clearly emerges is a pattern of form over substance in which commitments to a Bill of Rights or adherence to the UDHR/Rights of Man are largely a function of historic colonial relations, that is, whether the colonial power was Britain or France or, later, Portugal. Human rights 17 C. Achebe, There Was a Country: A Personal History of Biafra (London, 2012), 163–164. 18 OAU (L) OAU Secretary-General Kodjo’s opening address to the 1979 Dakar Meeting of Experts, CAB/LEG/67/4, 2.

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considerations are almost always absent from the discussions of the drafting process, and rarely deployed as justification for independence. The main political consideration in Africa was power and this left no room for human rights. Concerns for human rights seemingly expressed in African constitutions simply amounted to a veneer of respectability or the price for obtaining independence. Indeed, as the evolution of, and political compliance with, those commitments unfolds, it is evident that they were invariably honoured in the breach or simply excised. In several cases, African political leaders drastically amended their constitutions on the basis that human rights had been foisted upon them by the colonial power, in effect the British; in the case of the former French colonial territories, they simply excised their initial adherence to the UDHR. Far, therefore, from signifying empathy with human rights in the Western universalist sense, the African approach essentially portended the continuing reluctance of African political leaders to contemplate any human rights mechanism that might limit the scope of their dominance – a dominance they felt no qualms in reinforcing after independence. That approach would, of course, filter its way into the content of the ACHPR which would not have been acceptable to African political leaders if control over any adverse findings proposed by the ACOMHPR had not been assigned to the OAU AHSG. As to the UDHR, as described in Chapter 6, the African states always remembered that they had not participated in its drafting and that it had therefore not only accommodated colonialism but had also failed to include many of the ‘rights’ which they felt were equally necessary or appropriate to the African way of life. Although, therefore, some pre-OAU inter-African conferences included an adherence to the UDHR, that was soon watered down so that, at best, adherence was now merely to the principles of the UDHR. This was most noticeable in the wording of Decision 115 which clearly felt that it was politically feasible to mention the UDHR only by reference to the watered-down commitment in the OAU Charter. Similarly, on the international stage, particularly at the UN, the primary international relations aims of the African states were to denounce the application of the UDHR to Africa, other than in relation to the remaining colonial territories of Portugal and South Africa, and to demand Western support for economic development. Moreover, if at all, the African states’ choice of human rights weapon was the Charter of the United Nations (UN Charter) which, unlike the UDHR, had at least expressed a commitment to develop self-government in the non-self-governing territories. As the political and intellectual background presented in these first two Parts hardly suggests an environment conducive to the adoption of an African human rights system, who or what then was likely to initiate the first steps towards an African human rights system that, in any event, would most likely fail to secure a sufficient degree of support in the OAU AHSG, the only forum with the authority to speak for Africa? Nor was it obvious, in the unlikely event that a consensus

Introduction

11

could after all be reached within the OAU AHSG, what form such an African human rights system might take or with what powers of enforcement, if any, it would be endowed. The main aim of Volume 2 will therefore be to answer those questions and the corollary, how therefore the ACHPR that emerged should be understood. Part Three: The Influence of the Outsiders (Chapter 1) will therefore first take a look at the frequently alleged outside influence over the ACHPR process by, respectively, Western governments, the UN and NGOs. Thereafter, Part Four: The Political Process (Chapters 2 and 3) will describe the political process which brought the ACHPR into being and the content of the ACHPR itself, supported by a Postscript to Chapter 2 illustrating the subsequent failure of implementation and compliance following adoption of the ACHPR in 1981 and its ratification in 1986. It is at that point that the narrative of the origins comes to a close as the subsequent history of the ACHPR has to be understood in terms of quite a different set of issues and political questions. Finally, the Conclusion weaves together the findings and suggests that the ACHPR should be understood not only on its own terms as an African political document but also as a reproach to the concept of universal human rights. Although the research and writing of this book has been a labour of love for over fifteen years, it has nonetheless to be acknowledged that several research gaps remain over and beyond those which are merely the result of personal failings. First, as all African researchers know, post-colonial research in Africa is invariably limited by the paucity of original sources. It is not simply that African archives are poorly funded but that most official material never makes its way to the national archives. For example, despite several research visits to the AU and the Senegalese Embassy in Ethiopia, the National Archives and Ministry of Foreign Affairs in Senegal and interviews with former OAU Secretary-General Kodjo in Togo, former President of Senegal Diouf in Paris and Tanor Dieng, a foreign affairs adviser to President Senghor, it has still not been possible to identify even the possible location of two critical sets of documents: Firstly, the 1979 correspondence between President Senghor, OAU Secretary-General Kodjo and the Senegalese Embassy in Addis Ababa. Secondly, the memorandum from Tanor Dieng and First President of the Supreme Court of Senegal M’baye to President Senghor describing the position taken by each OAU member state at the less-than-successful June 1980 Banjul Ministerial Meeting, which met to review the draft ACHPR drawn up by the Meeting of Experts. Without any doubt, these documents would have proved invaluable in identifying much of the detail to the background of President Senghor’s decision to sponsor Decision 115 at the 1979 Monrovia AHSG, and opened up a more definitive understanding of the political process and of the development of the ACHPR text. Some of these gaps have been filled by research in the UK National Archives, which has valuable information and insights from British diplomats on the spot, but which, at the same time, has therefore also to be treated with some

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circumspection. However, this work has benefited above all from the interviews with many of the participants in the process, although, in several cases, time had taken a toll on their memory of events. This would seem an appropriate point at which to express my appreciation for their generosity in agreeing to share their recollections and thoughts directly or in correspondence – the names, dates and places of the interviews and correspondence are reported in the Bibliography. It is also worth pointing out that several interviewees reported, as would be expected, that they too had filed reports on the drafting meetings they attended but, as with the Tanor Dieng and M’baye memorandum, these too have proved equally elusive. Secondly, due to my limited language skills, difficulties of access and financial constraints, there are gaps in North African, local African and French sources of information. There are also gaps in the various sections where space did not permit coverage of the entire African polity and a selection of individual African states had therefore to be made. It is to be hoped that other researchers may be encouraged to take up the mantle of research to fill in the gaps. It is also fitting to acknowledge at the outset that, inevitably, several areas of African history, particularly in the early pre- and post-independence periods, have necessarily relied on the work of more specialised African historians, though the application of that research to commentary on African human rights is my own. Finally, it should be stressed that the ACHPR process presented is necessarily a political account in which the main players, with the primary exception of OAU Secretary-General Kodjo, M’baye and ICJ Secretary-General MacDermot, are the African heads of state and government. This is because educated African opinion played only a small walk-on part, the broader mass of African people, still predominantly engaged in agriculture at that time, almost none. This was brought home early on in the research process in the interview with former OAU Secretary-­General Kodjo. He explained that, while M’baye was an important figure in the process, indeed he acknowledged the valuable role he had played, nonetheless, what was absolutely critical if the ACHPR was ever to be taken up was the support of leading African political leaders; in particular, support offered up in the bear pit of the OAU AHSG debates.19 It was an assessment with which Wako, an expert from Kenya and Kenya’s Attorney General from 1991 to 2011, who was most vocal in the pre-1979 African human rights debate and the drafting process of the ACHPR, would concur. As he candidly admitted, African jurists were able to do little more than shout from the outside at African political leaders. As will become most evident, the ACHPR was therefore, to all intents and purposes, a charter of the heads of state, by the heads of state and for the heads of state.20 19 Interview with Edem Kodjo, 10 December 2007, Lomé. 20 Interview with Amos Wako, 23 July 2012, Geneva.

Chapter 1 The Emergence of African Discontent When the Second World War broke out in Europe in 1939 there were barely two independent countries in Africa – Egypt and Liberia. In both cases, though, it was an independence that was significantly circumscribed. In the case of Egypt, although the 1936 Anglo-Egyptian Treaty had nominally brought to an end the British occupation, it nevertheless also provided for a residual presence for a further period of twenty years of up to 10,000 British troops and 400 British airmen together with their ‘necessary ancillary staff ’. Their residual presence was demanded on the basis that the strategic international waterway of the Suez Canal had to be protected.1 As for Liberia, it was independent de jure but otherwise heavily dependent on US economic support, in particular on the rubber plantations of the Firestone Company. Politically, too, it was also almost the exclusive preserve of the descendants of its mid-nineteenth century African-­ American founders, further diluting the practical significance of independence for the majority of its population. A third country, Ethiopia, was also independent de jure. However, in 1935 it was occupied by Italy and, even after 1941, notwithstanding Emperor Haile Selassie’s return, it was largely administered by its British ‘liberators’. Ethiopia would only regain its formal, though still limited, independence late in 1944.2 It could perhaps be argued that South Africa was also an independent country but, as the majority black population was under minority white rule, this independence, too, could hardly be regarded as anything more than a fiction. 1

2

HMSO Cmd. 5270, Egypt No. 1 (1936), Treaty of Alliance between His Majesty, in respect of the United Kingdom, and His Majesty the King of Egypt [with an Agreed Minute thereto, three Notes, Notes exchanged in Egypt on August 12, 1936, and an Oral Declaration made by the President of the Egyptian Council of Ministers on August 10, 1936] and a Convention concerning the Immunities and Privileges to be enjoyed by the British Forces in Egypt; London, August 26, 1936 (London, 1936). HMSO Cmd. 6584, Ethiopia No. 1 Agreement between His Majesty in respect of the United Kingdom and His Imperial Majesty the Emperor of Ethiopia, Addis Ababa, 19th December, 1944 (London, 1945).

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The two main colonial powers were Britain, whose colonial territories ranged across the whole continent, and France, whose colonial territories were predominantly in North and West Africa but also included Madagascar and French Somaliland (Djibouti) in East Africa. Other colonial powers included Portugal, which controlled several colonial territories, notably Angola, Guinea-Bissau and Mozambique, Belgium, which controlled the colonial territories of the Congo and Rwanda/Burundi, and Spain, which controlled the colonial territories of the Spanish Western Sahara and Equatorial Guinea. As both Portugal and Spain were neutral throughout the Second World War, as regards the ACHPR, their historical significance only comes into play after the other African colonial territories had gained their independence in the late 1950s and early 1960s. On the Axis side, whereas Germany’s colonial territories had been confiscated after its defeat in the First World War, Italy controlled the colonial territories of what is now Libya and Eritrea and also Italian Somaliland. In pursuit of Mussolini’s ambition to create an Italian East African colony of Greater Somalia, Italy invaded Ethiopia in 1935 and then British Somaliland and the Northern Frontier District of Kenya in 1940. That ambition was soon crushed as by 1941 the British had not only recovered control over their occupied colonial territories but had also ‘liberated’ Ethiopia. The Italians were also ejected from Eritrea, which the UN would award to Ethiopia in 1950, and Italian Somaliland, which was returned to Italian control in 1950 when Italy was appointed trustee of the UN Trust Territory of Somaliland. In 1960, the British and Italian Somaliland territories were united to create the independent state of Somalia.3 However, once the fire of Somali ambitions for a Greater Somalia had been lit, it could not so easily be extinguished and would be pursued by an independent Somalia at the 1963 founding conference of the OAU and again during the drafting process of the ACHPR – and also, notably, in the 1977–78 war with Ethiopia. As for the Italian colonial territories in North Africa, in 1949, the UN decided that the several provinces should come together to form an independent Libyan state. Libya would thereupon become an independent state in late 1951.4 The notion, all too tempting, that the origins of African anti-colonialism are located in the Second World War is, in itself, a somewhat over-simple narrative that is, at one and the same time, both impertinent and misleading. Impertinent on the one side because, as can be imagined, in many colonial territories, colonial rule upheld by the gun was never accepted, it was merely tolerated perforce. Moreover, as Rotberg has observed, the pre-war ‘gentle murmurs of early protest’ and ‘the hesitant early manoeuvrings’ would seem ‘as much a part of the total process as the more obvious final phase’. Misleading on the other side because it largely fails to account for the endurance of post-war acquiescence to 3 4

UNGA 390/5 (Eritrea) and 442/5 (Somaliland) 2 December 1950 and UN A/1285 (Eritrea) and A/1294 (Somaliland) (1950). UNGA 289/4 21 November 1949.

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colonial rule in other colonial territories, not least as expressed by the French colonial territories in the 1958 French Community referendum.5 Yet, if the more complex question of origins can be set aside, there can otherwise be no doubt that both the paths and trajectories of African anti-­colonialism were profoundly transformed and, to a significant degree, largely shaped by the political, economic and social tensions fomented and exacerbated by the Second World War. As General de Gaulle pointed out to the 1944 Brazzaville Conference, which was deliberating on French post-war policy in respect of its African colonial territories: ‘As always, war itself brings about evolution … every people, every population, every individual raise their heads, look beyond the moment and contemplate their destiny.’ [‘Comme toujours, la guerre elle-même précipite l’evolution … chaque peuple, chaque population, chaque individu, lève la tête, regarde au delà du jour et s’interroge sur son destin.’]6 At the very heart of this transformation was a gathering political disconnect that was increasingly emerging as the primary focus of a rising class of educated African opinion that was about to take political centre stage. A political disconnect arising out of the oft-repeated professions of Allied wartime propaganda that the Second World War was being fought for the freedom, or, in the case of Vichy France wartime propaganda, for the benefit, of all. It was a refrain that was encapsulated above all in the commitment seemingly pledged by Point 3 of 5

6

R.I. Rotberg, ‘African Nationalism: Concept or Confusion?’ Journal of Modern African Studies, 4/1 (1966), 39–40; see also T. Hodgkin, Nationalism in Colonial Africa (London, 1956), 20–25, M. Perham, ‘The Psychology of African Nationalism’, Optima, X/1 (1960), 27–36, R.I. Rotberg, ‘The Rise of African Nationalism: The Case of East and Central Africa’, World Politics, 15/1 (1962), 75–90, J. Lonsdale, ‘The Emergence of African Nations: A Historiographical Analysis’, African Affairs, 67/266 (1968), 11–28, F. Cooper, ‘Possibility and Constraint: African Independence in Historical Perspective’, Journal of African History, 49/2 (2008), 167–196 and A.W.M. Smith/C. Jeppesen, ‘Introduction: Development, Contingency and Entanglement: Decolonization in the Conditional’, A.W.M. Smith/C. Jeppesen (eds), Britain, France and the Decolonization of Africa: Future Imperfect? (London, 2017), 1–14. General de Gaulle, Opening Speech to the Brazzaville Conference 30 January 1944, quoted by UDMA document, F. Abbas, Du Manifeste la Republique Algérienne (Algiers, 1948), 72 (reference from S. el Din el Zein el Tayeb, ‘The Europeanized Algerians and the Emancipation of Algeria’, Middle Eastern Studies, 22/2 (1986), 219); author translation, as are all following unless otherwise noted. However, the official record, ‘Le discours de Brazzaville (30 Janvier 1944)’, https://mjp.univ-perp. fr/textes/degaulle30011944.htm, last accessed 13 March 2023, does not include ‘chaque peuple, chaque population’ although a contemporary report in the local Brazzaville French press and the UK Consul General’s English translation do include ‘chaque population’ (see BBC Monitoring Service 30 January 1944, NA FO 371/42216) as does Ministère des Colonies, Conférence africaine française, Brazzaville, 30 janvier 1944 – 8 février 1944 (Paris, 1945), 29.

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the Atlantic Charter, ‘the right of all peoples to choose the form of government under which they will live’. Set against these professions of democratic virtue was the reality of colonial rule on the ground, starkly exposed by the conduct of colonial governments throughout the war and soon to be abetted by the clear post-war reluctance of the colonial powers to concede not much more than a modest step in African political advance; a refusal that would shortly be endorsed by both the UN Charter and the UDHR. Moreover, and significantly, it was a political disconnect that educated African opinion would increasingly come to conclude could only be understood in terms of a deep-seated Western mindset of racial superiority and, its corollary, racial discrimination.

Wartime propaganda in the British colonial territories In Britain, the Ministry of Information (MoI) was only officially established at the outbreak of the Second World War although secret preparations for a ‘shadow’ MoI, one of several ‘shadow’ Ministries set up in anticipation of the war, had already been in hand since 1935.7 This need for secrecy reflected in part the considerable distaste with which the concept of a ‘propaganda’ ministry was still held in most British political circles in the 1930s. Indeed, such was the extent of the political distaste that Prime Minister Chamberlain thought it expedient to be evasive in his answer to parliamentary questions from the few MPs pressing for a more proactive government response to anti-British German propaganda.8 It was only in June 1939 that Prime Minister Chamberlain finally disclosed limited details of the secret preparations. He advised that the government ‘have recently given attention to the question whether a further development of present methods of publicity during peace time is required’. Although it was ‘not their intention to set up a Ministry of Information or Propaganda … at the present time … In the event of this country ever becoming engaged in a major war, it 7

8

C. Larson, ‘The British Ministry of Information’, The Public Opinion Quarterly, 5/3 (1941), 412–431, P.M. Taylor, ‘“If War Should Come”: Preparing the Fifth Arm for Total War 1935–1939’, Journal of Contemporary History, 16/1 (1981), 27–51, C.R. Cole, ‘The Conflict Within: Sir Stephen Tallents and Planning Propaganda Overseas before the Second World War’, Albion: A Quarterly Journal Concerned with British Studies, 14/1 (1982), 50–71, T. Willcox, ‘Projection or Publicity? Rival Concepts in the Pre-War Planning of the British Ministry of Information’, Journal of Contemporary History, 18/1 (1983), 97–116 and M. Balfour, Propaganda in war 1939–1945: Organisations, Policies and Publics in Britain and Germany (London, 1979). Henderson MP, Question to Prime Minister Chamberlain, House of Commons 29 November 1938 and Evans MP, Question to Prime Minister Chamberlain, House of Commons 29 March 1939 (references from C. Larson, ‘The British Ministry of Information’, 413–415).

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would be the intention of the Government to set up at once a Ministry of Information’. Finally, he disclosed that preparatory work had already commenced and that ‘the Home Secretary has … undertaken the responsibility of preparing the necessary plans’.9 It is of course possible to conceive of this MoI as the direct descendant of the first MoI which had been set up briefly in 1918. However, its origins can more accurately be located in the preparatory discussions of wartime censorship in the Committee of Imperial Defence (CID), an advisory committee with specific responsibility for research on questions of military strategy. Its procedure required that as and when a topic was proposed a sub-committee would be appointed to prepare the initial analysis and make recommendations to the CID.10 The idea of a new MoI first emerged in July 1935 in the Interim Report of the CID sub-committee considering a general policy on broadcasting in time of war. It proposed that the Foreign Secretary should be designated as Minister for Propaganda pending the establishment of a MoI. Its final report further recommended that a separate sub-committee should be set up ‘to prepare plans for the establishment on the outbreak of war of a Ministry of Information’. The significance of this sub-committee was reflected in the heavyweight composition of its membership, which included the permanent heads of department of the Treasury, Foreign Office, Dominions and Home Office. Its eventual July 1936 report, designated by the CID as the basic planning document for the ‘shadow’ MoI, laid down that the MoI’s terms of reference would be to ‘present the national case to the public at home and abroad’ in wartime.11 Thereafter, detailed planning was assigned to a standing sub-committee of officials tasked with selecting its 9

Fletcher MP and Lipson MP, Question to Prime Minister Chamberlain, House of Commons 15 June 1939 (references from C. Larson, ‘The British Ministry of Information’, 413–415). 10 F.A. Johnson, Defence by Committee: The British Committee of Imperial Defence, 1885–1959 (London, 1960). 11 CID Sub-Committee on General Policy of Broadcasting in Time of War, Report 9 December 1935 B.W. 17, Appendix B CID Paper No. 213A approved by CID at its 271st Meeting, NA CAB 16/120, CID Minutes of 271st Meeting 14 October 1935 and 281st Meeting 30 July 1936, NA CAB 2/6, CID Sub-Committee to prepare plans for the establishment of a Ministry of Information: Composition and Terms of Reference, Hankey to Prime Minister 15 October 1935 and Hankey to Fisher 16 October 1935, NA CAB 104/84, CID Sub-Committee to prepare plans for the establishment of a Ministry of Information, M.I.C.1 Composition and Terms of Reference 18 October 1935, M.I.C.2 Memoranda on the creation of a Ministry of Information in war, C.P. Robertson, Press Section, Air Ministry 12 September 1935, M.I.C.5 Revised Draft Report 3 July 1936 and M.I.C.7 Report 27 July 1936, NA CAB 16/127 and Note of a meeting which took place betw