Africa, a continent bursting with raw energy, potential, and the unbreakable spirit of its people, finds itself trapped. Not by its lack of resources, not by the ghosts of colonialism alone, but by the suffocating weight of its own intellectual elites. The tragedy is subtle but devastating: in boardrooms, conference halls, and glossy government offices, Africa’s progress is being murdered in cold blood—not by illiteracy, but by "Big English."
This isn’t about language proficiency or literacy. It’s about a culture that glorifies talk over action, complexity over clarity, and the illusion of intelligence over the messiness of real work. It’s about the rise of a class of people whose currency isn’t results but rhetoric, whose power lies not in their ability to solve problems but in their ability to articulate them in polished, often inaccessible terms.
Let’s call it what it is: too many talkers, too few doers.
For decades, this phenomenon has seeped into every crevice of African society. At its core lies a toxic obsession with intellectualism—the idea that progress can be theorized, debated, and written into existence. Across the continent, there is no shortage of plans, manifestos, visions, and roadmaps. African leaders and thinkers have mastered the art of saying the right things, often in impeccable English, to international applause. Yet, when the applause fades, when the cameras are turned off, the ground remains untouched, the people remain underserved, and the problems persist.
You’ve seen it. The endless summits on poverty eradication, where suits and ties gather to discuss “sustainable frameworks” while the hungry wait for food that never arrives. The meticulously written policy documents on climate adaptation, crafted by consultants who’ve never stepped foot in the rural areas they claim to understand. The flowery speeches on “empowering the youth,” delivered in polished accents to rooms full of aging politicians. And after all the words, what? Nothing.
It’s a performance. A theater of intellect designed to impress donors, foreign dignitaries, and each other, but with no intention—perhaps no ability—to turn words into action. And the cost of this charade? Stagnation, frustration, and the quiet resignation of millions who realize that the people speaking for them are too busy talking to listen.
Let’s not pretend this is harmless. This culture of talk breeds apathy. It teaches people that success is about sounding smart rather than solving problems. It shifts focus from the streets, farms, and factories to air-conditioned offices and sterile conference rooms. It creates an elite class detached from the realities of the majority—a class that thrives on intellectual posturing while the continent's challenges deepen.
Take development, for instance. Africa’s challenges are as complex as they are urgent, but the solutions proposed often reek of textbook idealism. Imported frameworks are applied to local problems with no thought for context, no effort to understand the unique dynamics at play. Policies are drafted with impressive technical jargon, but they crumble at the implementation stage because they were never designed for the real world.
Consider agriculture, the backbone of most African economies. Governments and NGOs alike preach the gospel of modern farming—mechanization, irrigation, large-scale operations. But what happens to the millions of smallholder farmers who rely on traditional methods? What happens to the women who plant by hand, the families who depend on rain-fed crops? They are ignored because their realities don’t fit the narrative of progress being sold to donors.
The same goes for education. Leaders wax lyrical about “reforming the curriculum,” “digitizing learning,” and “preparing students for the 21st-century economy.” Yet schools lack basic infrastructure. Teachers are underpaid, resources are scarce, and the gap between rhetoric and reality yawns wider with every empty promise.
Health? The elites craft “comprehensive healthcare strategies” with fancy acronyms and colorful infographics. Meanwhile, in the villages, women give birth on dirt floors, clinics run out of medicine, and preventable diseases kill thousands every year. The strategies exist only on paper, serving as trophies for their creators while the people they were meant to serve are left to fend for themselves.
And then there’s urbanization. Across Africa, cities are expanding at breakneck speed, fueled by rural-urban migration and population growth. But the response? Grandiose plans for smart cities and skyscrapers, modeled on Dubai or Singapore, with no thought for the informal settlements that house the majority of urban dwellers. The reality on the ground—crowded slums, poor sanitation, lack of affordable housing—is overshadowed by the allure of glossy renderings and investor-friendly pitches.
This isn’t just incompetence; it’s willful negligence. The elites are not unaware of these realities—they choose to ignore them. It’s easier to speak in abstractions than to deal with the messy, unglamorous work of real problem-solving. It’s easier to write a report than to build a road. It’s easier to talk about “capacity building” than to actually train people.
But the people aren’t fooled. They see the gap between words and action, between promise and delivery. They know that behind every big speech is a budget that will be mismanaged, a project that will stall, a leader who will move on to the next talking point without finishing the last. They know that “Big English” is a mask for inaction, a tool for deflection.
And they are tired.
There is a quiet rage simmering across Africa, a growing impatience with leaders and intellectuals who prioritize appearances over outcomes. The youth, in particular, are fed up with being spoken for but never listened to. They are tired of being told to wait, to hope, to trust in systems that have failed them repeatedly.
What Africa needs now is not more intellectualism but more pragmatism. Not more talkers but more doers. People who are willing to get their hands dirty, to confront challenges head-on, to embrace the trial-and-error messiness of real progress. People who value results over rhetoric, impact over applause.
Imagine an Africa where ideas are measured not by how eloquently they are expressed but by how effectively they are implemented. Where leaders are judged not by their command of English but by their ability to deliver tangible change. Where the intellectual class is not a separate elite but an integrated part of society, working alongside farmers, artisans, and entrepreneurs to build solutions from the ground up.
This is not an impossible dream. Across the continent, there are countless examples of grassroots innovation, community-driven development, and local solutions that work because they are grounded in reality. These are the stories that deserve to be amplified, the models that deserve to be scaled.
But for this to happen, the culture of “Big English” must die. The obsession with intellectual posturing must be replaced by a culture of action. Africa’s elites must step out of their comfort zones, out of their conference rooms and offices, and into the realities of the people they claim to serve.
Progress will not come from more speeches, more reports, more strategies. It will come from the ground—from the farmers who innovate despite the odds, the teachers who educate despite the lack of resources, the entrepreneurs who build despite the lack of support. It will come from a collective shift in mindset, from valuing doing over talking, practicality over perfection, results over rhetoric.
Africa doesn’t need more intellectuals to save it. It needs its people to be empowered to save themselves. And for that to happen, the era of “Big English” must end.
The question is: are we ready to let it go?
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