They do not arrive in gunboats, they do not hoist foreign flags, and they do not occupy territories. They turn up with Excel spreadsheets, graphs and loans worth billions. Twenty-first-century colonialism no longer speaks the language of imperial governors, but that of economists.
First, they finance the future. Then they certify that that future has become poorer. This is the paradox of the World Bank: it supports developing countries with loans and reforms, but when the economy slows down, it is often the institution itself that presents the bill, reminding them that the debts remain and that someone will have to pay them.
The World Bank is not a state. It has no army, it does not conquer territories, it does not impose colonial governors. Yet, in many African countries, it exerts an influence reminiscent of that of the old imperial powers, using different tools but sometimes achieving similar results.
The script is familiar. A promising country receives funding for infrastructure, reforms and modernisation. Governments, often in need of cash and keen to show immediate results, take out substantial loans. Roads, dams, electricity grids, schools and hospitals are built. Everything seems to be moving in the direction of development.
Then reality sets in.
The global economy slows down, a war sends oil prices soaring, a drought hits agriculture, a political crisis drives investors away. These are events which, particularly in emerging economies, are almost inevitable. At that point, the very same institution that had fuelled the period of optimism revises its growth forecasts downwards and warns that millions of people are at risk of falling into poverty. This is exactly what is happening today in Kenya too, where economic growth has been revised downwards – growth estimates have fallen from 4.9 per cent to 4.3 per cent – and the World Bank estimates that up to 2.4 million people could slip below the international poverty line. Because another peculiarity of banks is that they only remember the poor when things get really shitty (excuse my language, but when you’ve got to, you’ve got to...)
Of course, it would be wrong to hold the World Bank responsible for the wars in the Middle East, the rise in oil prices or the structural weaknesses of the Kenyan economy. That would be an unfair oversimplification. But it is legitimate to ask whether the very model of debt as a driver of development does not all too often end up shifting economic risk onto the most vulnerable sections of the population.
Loans must be repaid. With interest. If growth slows, debt servicing becomes a heavier burden. And when a government is forced to choose between paying international creditors and funding healthcare, education or food subsidies, it is rarely the creditors who make sacrifices.
This is why the World Bank represents, in the eyes of many Africans – as seen in the slogans of recent protests and in Gen Z’s social media posts – a form of colonialism without armies. A form of colonialism that does not impose its will through the force of arms, but through budgets, credit ratings and the conditions attached to new loans. It does not occupy territories, but influences economic policies, spending priorities and the degree of autonomy enjoyed by governments.
Kenya continues to have enormous potential: a young population, a vibrant technology sector, a resilient agricultural sector and a tourism industry capable of reinventing itself. But no economic forecast should make us forget a fundamental question: is development measured by the stability of financial markets or by people’s quality of life?
Because, ultimately, the graphs may well recover. But if it is always the poorest who end up paying the interest, the cost of development risks bearing too close a resemblance to that of a past which Africa thought it had left behind.