After Africa’s political decolonization era in the late 1950s and 1960s, African scholars began challenging Western portrayals and colonial narratives of and about Africa, marking the emergence of African History as a distinct discipline. This scholarship demonstrated the vibrancy of indigenous institutions, local economies and African agency. Within this historiography, economic history gained prominence through scholars such as Walter Rodney, whose seminal book How Europe Underdeveloped Africa critiqued colonial exploitation, and Samir Amin, who examined the impact of global capitalism on Africa. Claude Ake advocated for knowledge rooted in African realities, while A. G. Hopkins’ An Economic History of West Africa (1973) and, later, Paul Tiyambe Zeleza’s two-volume A Modern Economic History of Africa (1993) challenged the Eurocentric claims of precolonial stagnation. Interest in African economic history waned in the late 1980s but resurged in the 2000s, notably with Hopkins’ 2009 call to revive the discipline and simultaneously critique Western interpretations of African economies. Central to this scholarship was the emphasis on African epistemologies. However, these works have been fragmented in their analysis, a weakness that Bronwen Everill’s recent book has largely overcome.
Adopting an interdisciplinary approach that combines history, economics, sociology and philosophy, among other disciplines, in a single, sustained account, Everill’s Africonomics: a history of Western ignorance examines Africa’s place in global economic thought, questioning the historical and contemporary economic engagements between the West and Africa. She draws on a wide range of archival sources, economic theories and African intellectual traditions to examine the persistent failure of Western economic interventions in Africa. Her central argument is that Western players have consistently (sometimes deliberately) misunderstood, misrepresented and misapplied economic principles in African contexts, resulting in many misguided policies and enduring structural inequalities.
Apart from an analogical introduction and an epilogue, the book is structured thematically across eight chapters, with each chapter representing a case study that engages a particular facet of Western economic thought and its application in Africa. Although the chapter titles do not immediately disclose the themes or ideas under discussion, a close reading reveals conventional Western misinterpretations, from the slavery abolitionist interventions to contemporary aid programmes. The introduction is upfront in articulating that, due to ignorant assumptions that African economies must mirror those of Europe, Western interventions continue to fail. The solution, she suggests, is to examine and understand the economic history of the continent on its own terms, and not to assume – because, to use a tongue-in-cheek phrase, ‘to assume is to make an ass out of u and me’ (p. 5). The shortcomings of assumptions are made even more apparent in Chapter 1, where she employs an imagery of a king, who, because of his holey stockings, was assumed to be poor.
Other notable themes that stand out include the exploration of colonial legacies (Chapter 6), which were underpinned by extractive and export-oriented economic structures, and how these have conditioned postcolonial development strategies that have left lasting distortions. She also explores aid and NGO interventions (Chapter 7) that have failed because they do not consider local needs or contexts, and the role of women’s labour (Chapter 8), which she argues has been undervalued and ignored. The book’s epilogue sums up that, for over two centuries, Western interventions have repeatedly misdiagnosed African problems through Eurocentric assumptions, leading to imposed solutions (p. 248). Yet, Africa has its own economic philosophy, rooted in history, culture and local institutions, which must be understood on its own terms because ‘time and again, people who have tried to “fix” Africa’s economies don’t know better than the people living and working there, raising families and making ends meet’ (p. 250). For this reason, Everill advocates that ‘we need to stop approaching African economies as if they are automatically in need of Western intervention’ (p. 249).
Collectively, the chapters make a significant contribution to decolonial scholarship by challenging Western economic epistemologies and foregrounding African economic thought. The book calls for contextually grounded approaches. This critique is one of its most essential interventions. Everill’s use of analogies and case studies to explain distinct Western economic logic as applied in African contexts makes the book accessible yet rigorous, making it suitable for both academic and general audiences. More importantly, Africonomics not only demonstrates the failures of Western intervention but also suggests ways to rethink economic engagement with Africa. It calls for a shift in studying Africa’s economic past by listening to African voices, valuing African knowledge, and designing policies that reflect local realities rather than abstract models. In making this call, Everill joins the continuum of a rich body of scholarship that seeks to decolonize economics and foreground African agency.
Africonomics is a timely and necessary work that challenges and confronts the enduring legacy of Western ignorance, inviting reflection on new possibilities for economic justice in Africa. It is a must-read for anyone interested in African economic thought and the politics of knowledge production. Scholars of decoloniality will also find the book helpful in constructing their arguments.
