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The Political Thought of Patrice Lumumba* 101 masses had one leader alone – Kasavubu. Between a head of state who dominated Abako and a population whose sole aim was secession, a centralist prime minister could play only one role – that of hostage. He had supporters in all the provinces, but to communicate with them, he was obliged either to go via the Belgian administration which was still in place and resisted him with its inertia, or via the black civil servants of Léopoldville, the majority of whom were against him. From 1 July 1960, centralism became the abstract dream of a prisoner of honour who had totally lost his grip on the country. This became clear in the second half of September when Lumumba, after his dismissal, drove through the streets of Léopoldville in a car equipped with loudspeakers: his harangues convinced no one. Closed faces, an indifferent or hostile public: the population of Léopoldville could not care less about centralism. On the contrary, one word whispered by Kasavubu was enough to have thousands of anti-Lumumba rioters pour into the city: little by little, deputies became worried and deserted the Assembly; the legislative power gave in to illegality of its own accord. For the deputies, as for the head of the executive, the secessionist capital was a prison. Later, it got to the stage that the exhausted Lumumba, acknowledging at last that he had lost the game in Léopoldville, fled and become a separatist in his turn by attempting to reach Stanleyville, his fiefdom. By that I mean a provisional secession, the negation of a negation; he hoped to assemble his forces and undertake from Stanleyville the reconquest – be it peaceful or violent – of the Congo and its reunification. But even if he had joined the main group of his supporters, is it really possible that he would have retaken the Bakongo capital without encountering any opposition? What forces did he have? The most likely outcome is that Lumumba would have held his position in Stanleyville without winning or losing, and that Kasavubu would have prided himself on styling this return of centralism to its origins as the secession of a province. And indeed, objectively, this enterprise, owing to a lack of sufficient means to complete it, would have increased the division of the Congolese and the dividing up of their land. It must be acknowledged, however, that at this moment Lumumba had only one alternative: either accept federation and the autonomy of the Lower Congo, or flee to Stanleyville to prepare for reconquest: in both cases, federalism would prevail. The truth of the matter is that it had won in advance. In politics, what is necessary is not always what is possible. What was necessary for the Congo was unity, the key idea of the MNC, a modern party modelled on European movements: without it, independence was a dead letter. But at that point in its history, the European formula did not adequately correspond to the needs of the Congolese; ties that were more rudimentary and solid linked them to their native soil, to their ethnic group. Centralization only represented the class consciousness of those who had been centralized, in other words, the évolués. These remarks bring us to the second characteristic of the Congo’s independence: it was granted. If it had been won by the Congolese, it would have indeed been inconceivable that the Belgian Ganshof should choose, on his own authority, the most suitable Congolese to form a ministry. Lumumba knew this and suffered from it: he requested the departure of the Belgian minister several times before 30 June. At a press conference he declared: ‘Nowhere in the world has the former power organized and conducted the elections which consecrate a country’s independence. There is no precedent for this in Africa. When Belgium won its independence in 1830, it was the

Colonialism and Neocolonialism 102 Belgians themselves who first constituted a provisional government …’ etc. The emphasis on ‘won’ is mine, because that is the crux of the matter. It explains the paternalistic tone of King Baudouin’s address, given on 30 June: we are giving you a lovely toy; do not break it. And also the apathy of Kasavubu, who, having knowledge of the speech, limited himself to removing too servile a peroration from his own. It was for that reason that the indignant Lumumba suddenly took over the microphone. The admirable ‘statement of bitterness’ with which he replied to the young king’s arrogance is well known. But for me, the most important thing is not that, but the lines which immediately precede it: Although the Congo’s independence is today being proclaimed with the agreement of Belgium, a country which is our friend and with whom we deal as an equal, no Congolese worthy of the name will ever be able to forget that we won it through struggle, a daily struggle, a fierce and idealistic struggle, a struggle in which we did not spare our energies, our sacrifices, or our sufferings. Here the transcript notes ‘applause’, leaving no doubt that the speaker had struck a chord. Whatever their party, the Congolese taking part in the ceremony did not want a gift: liberty is not given, it is taken. Turning the argument round, we can see that independence granted is merely a variation on servitude. The Congolese had suffered for almost a century: they had often fought and strikes and riots had become more frequent towards the end, despite the cruelty of the repression. Just recently, the days of January 1959 were, if not the cause, then at least the opportunity for the Belgian government’s new colonial policy. The courage of the proletariat or the rural fighters, and every colonial subject’s deep and invincible rejection, sometimes despite himself, of colonization were beyond question. The fact remains, however, that circumstances did not allow or demand recourse to organized struggle. In Vietnam, in Angola and in Algeria, the organizations were armed, they were people’s wars. In Ghana, Nkrumah claimed to be fighting with political means, but in fact, the strikes he organized were bloodless violence. In any case, the struggle is organized secretly and spontaneously; the unity of the fighters becomes the immediate means of any action before being its distant goal: they unite to bring off a raid but also to escape from mortal danger. The colonists’ reprisals seal secret pacts: the oppressors’ violence begets counter-violence which at the same time turns against the enemy and against the divisions that play the enemy’s game. If the organization is armed, it sweeps aside all obstacles in its path, liquidates kaids, fiefdoms, feudal privileges, everywhere substituting, during the struggle, its own political cadres for those established by the Administration. At the same time, a people’s war implies the unity of the Army and the people, and thus the unification of the people themselves: tribalism must disappear or the rebellion will be drowned in blood. The eradication of these vestiges is done spontaneously, through persuasion, political education, and if necessary, through terror. Thus the struggle itself brings about the unification of the country as it spreads from one end of it to the other. And if two rebel movements which coexist at the outset do not join together, one can be sure that they will both be massacred by the colonial army or that one of them will destroy the other. Victorious leaders are military men and politicians at the same time: they have

Colonialism and Neocolonialism 102<br />

Belgians themselves who first constituted a provisional government …’ etc.<br />

The emphasis on ‘won’ is mine, because that is the crux of the matter. It explains the<br />

paternalistic tone of King Baudouin’s address, given on 30 June: we are giving you a<br />

lovely toy; do not break it. And also the apathy of Kasavubu, who, having knowledge of<br />

the speech, limited himself to removing too servile a peroration from his own. It was for<br />

that reason that the indignant Lumumba suddenly took over the microphone. The<br />

admirable ‘statement of bitterness’ with which he replied to the young king’s arrogance is<br />

well known. But for me, the most important thing is not that, but the lines which<br />

immediately precede it:<br />

Although the Congo’s independence is today being proclaimed with the<br />

agreement of Belgium, a country which is our friend and with whom we deal as<br />

an equal, no Congolese worthy of the name will ever be able to forget that we<br />

won it through struggle, a daily struggle, a fierce and idealistic struggle, a<br />

struggle in which we did not spare our energies, our sacrifices, or our sufferings.<br />

Here the transcript notes ‘applause’, leaving no doubt that the speaker had struck a chord.<br />

Whatever their party, the Congolese taking part in the ceremony did not want a gift:<br />

liberty is not given, it is taken. Turning the argument round, we can see that<br />

independence granted is merely a variation on servitude. The Congolese had suffered for<br />

almost a century: they had often fought and strikes and riots had become more frequent<br />

towards the end, despite the cruelty of the repression. Just recently, the days of January<br />

1959 were, if not the cause, then at least the opportunity for the Belgian government’s<br />

new colonial policy. The courage of the proletariat or the rural fighters, and every<br />

colonial subject’s deep and invincible rejection, sometimes despite himself, of<br />

colonization were beyond question. The fact remains, however, that circumstances did<br />

not allow or demand recourse to organized struggle. In Vietnam, in Angola and in<br />

Algeria, the organizations were armed, they were people’s wars. In Ghana, Nkrumah<br />

claimed to be fighting with political means, but in fact, the strikes he organized were<br />

bloodless violence. In any case, the struggle is organized secretly and spontaneously; the<br />

unity of the fighters becomes the immediate means of any action before being its distant<br />

goal: they unite to bring off a raid but also to escape from mortal danger. The colonists’<br />

reprisals seal secret pacts: the oppressors’ violence begets counter-violence which at the<br />

same time turns against the enemy and against the divisions that play the enemy’s game.<br />

If the organization is armed, it sweeps aside all obstacles in its path, liquidates kaids,<br />

fiefdoms, feudal privileges, everywhere substituting, during the struggle, its own political<br />

cadres for those established by the Administration. At the same time, a people’s war<br />

implies the unity of the Army and the people, and thus the unification of the people<br />

themselves: tribalism must disappear or the rebellion will be drowned in blood. The<br />

eradication of these vestiges is done spontaneously, through persuasion, political<br />

education, and if necessary, through terror. Thus the struggle itself brings about the<br />

unification of the country as it spreads from one end of it to the other. And if two rebel<br />

movements which coexist at the outset do not join together, one can be sure that they will<br />

both be massacred by the colonial army or that one of them will destroy the other.<br />

Victorious leaders are military men and politicians at the same time: they have

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