Fifty Years Ago, as Men Landed on the Moon, Algeria Celebrated End of Imperialism

Mandated by the Organisation of African Unity to organise the First Pan-African Cultural Festival, the Algerian state sought to involve the entire black and African world.

The First Pan-African Cultural Festival, known as PANAF, formally opened in Algiers on 21 July 1969. This was the day after Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin’s historic moon landing 50 years ago. But most Pan-Africanist commentators didn’t see the coincidence as detracting attention from the festival. On the contrary, while the moon landing marked the white, Western world seeking out new frontiers in space, the festival denoted something just as significant: the emergence of a post-imperial world in which Algiers was positioned as the ‘mecca of revolution’.

Mandated by the Organisation of African Unity to organise the festival, the Algerian state sought to involve the entire black and African world. This included representatives from various liberation movements in Africa, as well as the Black Panthers from the US. Even the Palestinian Liberation Organisation was invited, explicitly linking Pan-African culture with an ongoing global process of political liberation from Western colonial rule.

The festival is held up by many critics and participants as the radical response to an earlier Pan-African event held in Dakar, Senegal, in April 1966: the First World Festival of Negro Arts. Senegalese President Léopold Sédar Senghor’s vision of Pan-African culture in 1966 had been racially defined and delimited, which meant that North African culture and participants were largely omitted.

Senghor also excluded representatives of the liberation movements that were at that time still fighting against racist colonial regimes in the settler colonies of Southern Africa, as well as in Lusophone Africa. Senghor’s critics perceived this as proof of his desire to keep culture and politics separate and to appease the former European colonial powers. The 1969 event explicitly set out to right these perceived wrongs.

Also read: How the Dalit Panthers Attempted to Break Free of Shackles

Algeria’s successful struggle against the French in a bloody war of independence (1954-62) had inspired independence movements around the world. During the war, Algerian militants of the National Liberation Front (FLN) had received international support. And the post-imperial FLN regime now wished to return the favour.

The American activist, Elaine Mokhtefi, was one of those drawn to the Algerian cause. She worked at its UN office in New York during the war and settled in the country after independence. In her remarkable memoir, Algiers, Third World Capital (2018), Mokhtefi wrote:

Algeria opted for an open-door policy of aid to the oppressed, an invitation to liberation movements and personalities from around the world.

As her book also demonstrates, however, Algerian support was generally conditional, uneven and prone to come to a rather abrupt end.

Black Power in Algiers

The festival ran from 21 July to 1 August 1969. It began with a parade by members of the various national delegations through downtown Algiers that was attended by thousands of ordinary Algerians.

A central colloquium accompanied the festival. Through its deliberations it sought to express a shared vision of Pan-African culture. Popular music also featured centrally. There were nightly concerts by the likes of Miriam Makeba, Nina Simone and Archie Shepp.

In his celebrated documentary film on the festival, William Klein famously captured Shepp’s impromptu jazz improvisations with Touareg musicians, shouting that ‘Jazz is Black Power!’. The performance enjoyed great symbolism as an emblematic example of Pan-African artistic collaboration.

The organisation of the festival and the regime’s open doors policy towards anti-colonial liberation movements hinted at a new form of global, black revolutionary citizenship. One representation of this was the presence of the Black Panthers, several dozen of whom had gathered in Algiers by the late 1960s.

Shortly before the festival, the Panthers’ charismatic and volatile information minister Eldridge Cleaver — who had served time in prison for violent sexual crimes — had arrived unannounced into Algerian exile. He became one of the festival’s star attractions.

The FLN welcomed the latest revolutionary arrival to their shores with Mokhtefi serving as the Panthers’ interpreter and general ‘fixer’. A new, two-story Afro-American Information Centre was opened in central Algiers, stocked with Black Panther pamphlets and posters. This was where the Panther delegation, Cleaver in particular, held court with the press as well as local and international visitors.

Also read: What Mandela and Fanon Learned From Algeria’s Revolution

As the historian Andrew Apter has argued, Cleaver had fled his vulnerable citizenship as an African American and had embraced a new form of ‘cultural citizenship’ in Algeria. There was, however, significant doubt as to how long his political welcome would extend beyond the festival.

The Limits of Pan-African citizenship

Algeria may have been keen to proclaim itself capital of the Third World. But it was also an authoritarian, one-party regime that tolerated little dissent. Cleaver had established a Black Panther Embassy in Algiers with FLN support. But he was not invited to engage with Algerian president Houari Boumedienne as an equal partner.

The FLN gradually grew impatient towards its radical guests. It’s not clear whether the Black Panthers were formally expelled, but by the early 1970s, all had drifted back to the US or into alternative sites of exile. For his part, Cleaver sought refuge in France in 1973.

The form of Pan-African citizenship that the festival appeared to promise proved all too ephemeral. Mokhtefi herself was expelled from Algeria without explanation in 1974.

In 2009, Algeria hosted a major 40th anniversary celebration of PANAF. The festival was, in part, a way of marking the country’s gradual emergence from its ‘black decade’ of murderous civil war between government forces and Islamist rebels in which tens of thousands died.

There are no such plans for a 50th anniversary event this year, as the country goes through its latest period of political unrest after almost 60 years of one-party rule by the FLN. As the major global powers gear up for new missions to the moon, Algerian protestors are also channelling some of the idealism of the late 1960s. They are seeking freedom and equality but without the controlling hand of the all-powerful one-party state.The Conversation

David Murphy is professor of French and postcolonial studies at University of Strathclyde.

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

The First Black Arts Festival Was Shaped by Cold War Politics

While the Soviets and the Americans raced to conquer space, the “black world” gathered together in Dakar, Senegal, to find its soul.

While the Soviets and the Americans raced to conquer space, the “black world” gathered together in Dakar, Senegal, to find its soul.

Duke Ellington at his piano in 1954. Credit: Wikimedia Commons

Duke Ellington at his piano in 1954. Credit: Wikimedia Commons

In April 1966, legendary jazz musician Duke Ellington travelled to Dakar, Senegal, with his orchestra to play at the first World Festival of Negro Arts. Organised against the backdrop of African decolonisation and the push for civil rights in the US, the festival was hailed as the inaugural cultural gathering of the black world.

More than 2,500 artists, musicians, performers and writers gathered in Dakar that month. The event spanned literature, theatre, music, dance, film, as well as the visual arts. Duke’s concerts were a highlight and, several years later, he still recalled them with great affection: “The cats in the bleachers really dig it … it gives us a once-in-a-lifetime feeling of having broken through to our brothers.” Ellington’s visit to Africa gave him the sense of coming home.

Léopold Sédar Senghor, president of Senegal, in Dakar, April 1966. Credit: Quai Branly

Léopold Sédar Senghor, president of Senegal, in Dakar, April 1966. Credit: Quai Branly

An exhibition at the Quai Branly Museum in Paris is currently marking the 50th anniversary of the festival, the first state-sponsored showcase of work by black artists. Dakar 66: Chronicle of a Pan-African Festival tells the story of the event using photographs, rarely seen documentary films and newly filmed interviews with participants. It captures the festival’s idealism and practical successes but does not shy away from thornier issues, such as its entanglement in Cold War politics or the criticism it received at subsequent, more radical, festivals in Algiers (1969) and Lagos (1977).

The participation of artists and musicians from the US was of particular importance to the Senegalese president (and poet) Léopold Senghor. In 1930s Paris, Senghor and fellow French-speaking students from Africa and the Caribbean had been inspired by the Harlem Renaissance and the jazz age to launch the Negritude movement, which promoted black pride among France’s colonial subjects. Ellington was therefore among the most eagerly anticipated guests in Dakar, as were Langston Hughes, the elder statesman of African-American literature, and an ageing Josephine Baker, the “black Venus” from Missouri, who had wowed Paris in the 1920s with her sexually charged dance routines. For Senghor, these figures embodied the cultural bond between Africa and people of African descent.

Festival poster by Senegalese artist Ibrahima Diouf. Credit: Quai Branly

Festival poster by Senegalese artist Ibrahima Diouf. Credit: Quai Branly

But it did not go unnoticed that participants were largely drawn from an older generation, viewed as politically and aesthetically conservative by younger, more militant figures. The US authorities, conscious that the racism exposed by the civil rights struggle had tarnished America’s global reputation, ensured that no radicals would travel to Dakar to “make trouble”. And the participation of Ellington’s orchestra was in fact funded by the US State Department, which had been using its Jazz Ambassadors programme for over a decade as part of its Cold War diplomacy. They sent black artists around the world to represent the US while, back home, they didn’t enjoy even the most basic civil rights.

Cold War politics

The US also saw the moderate Senghor as a key ally in its struggle for influence with the Soviet Union in West Africa. Without a black diaspora of their own, the Soviets could not play a formal role in the festival, but they did help the beleaguered hosts, desperate for hotel accommodation, by lending them a cruise ship. A New York Times reporter wryly reported:

As the guests sip their vodka on the main deck, they are also treated to an exhibit extolling Russian-Negro brotherhood. Several display boards highlight the fact that the Russians never engaged in the slave trade while guess-who did.

Dakar in April 1966. Credit: Quai Branly

Dakar in April 1966. Credit: Quai Branly

The Soviets also sent their distinguished, charismatic poet Yevgeny Yevtushenko, who enjoyed rock star status in the mid-1960s. Without any formal role to play, Yevtushenko promptly teamed up with fellow poet Langston Hughes and they spent afternoons driving around town in a limousine, getting drunk on Georgian champagne. So much for Cold War politics.

For Senghor, “the real heart of the festival” was a vast exhibition of “classical” African artworks, entitled Negro Art, at the newly built Musée Dynamique, a monumental Classical structure, perched on a promontory overlooking the sea. Negro Art assembled some of the finest examples of “traditional” African art, almost 600 pieces, borrowed from over 50 museums and private collectors from around the world. These were exhibited alongside a selection of works by Picasso, Léger and Modigliani, borrowed from the Museum of Modern Art in Paris, in a fascinating contrast between traditional sources and the modern masterpieces inspired by them. Who could imagine Western museums lending such priceless items to African partners today?

Exhibition visitors at Negro Art. Credit: Quai Branly

Exhibition visitors at Negro Art. Credit: Quai Branly

Senghor’s idealism about culture may have been largely misplaced — today, the Musée Dynamique houses Senegal’s Supreme Court. But the festival marked one of the high-points of black modernism in the 20th century. In his opening speech, Senghor claimed that the event was “an undertaking much more revolutionary than the exploration of the cosmos”. While the Soviets and the Americans raced to conquer space, the “black world” was gathered together to find its soul.

The Conversation

David Murphy, Professor of French and Postcolonial Studies, University of Stirling

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.