Some people love musicals. I am not a fan (there, I said it!). That’s why I rarely pay attention to notices about new ones in the making. That changed last week when I saw the announcement for a musical at the Old Vic about the 1985 Live Aid concert, which raised money for the devastating famine in Ethiopia. It made me sit up and take a deep, slow breath.
That’s because Live Aid was so much more than just a concert for me. It left a lasting and unpleasant legacy that has shaped the story of Africa and how the world sees us. It marked a catalytic moment that sealed Africa’s image as a broken continent and defined it for an entire generation. Thirty-eight years later, were we really going to relive our worst moment – as a musical, no less – and retell the story for a whole new generation?
Live Aid was watched by 72,000 people live at Wembley Stadium and an estimated 1.5 billion in 150 countries on TV. It raised more than $140m (£114m) for famine relief, rightly brought the world’s attention to Ethiopia’s devastating food shortages and undoubtedly saved thousands from death. Much good came from it and the intentions of its champions, Bob Geldof and Midge Ure, were noble.
But its portrayal of Africa triggered the birth of a patronising industry whose mission it was to “save Africa”. And today, business is booming. Britain’s aid contribution to Africa in 2022 was £1.1bn. In 2021, the development sector collectively sent $58.4bn to Africa, and over the last 30 years it is estimated that $1.2tn of aid has been spent on Africa.
The problem with the save Africa industry is the attitude of privilege in which it often comes wrapped. It is fed by and entirely reliant on a single, outdated story of Africa that was perpetuated and entrenched by the Live Aid phenomenon. Daytime TV in the UK is replete with adverts from international NGOs that continue to use the Live Aid model. They feature broken African characters who feed the stereotypes and tug at the heartstrings of British viewers. There is never any nuance or context in their stories.
Sadly, the mainstream media, the most influential ambassador for the Live Aid legacy, still largely perpetuates this dominant narrative about a broken continent plagued by poverty, conflict, corruption, crime, poor leaders and disease. In their version of Africa, the continent is a place beset by dependency and full of people who lack agency. Such narratives were highlighted in a 2020 literature review, and again in a report on Africa in the media – both conducted by the narrative change organisation, Africa No Filter.
Thirty-eight years after Live Aid, has nothing really changed?
I was one of the 1.5 billion who watched the original concert. I was in my late teens and witnessed the iconic gathering of superstars from my bedroom in London. As a Nigerian born in Lagos and educated in the UK, it took me a moment to realise that the version of Africa that Live Aid was selling the world was very different to the one in which I grew up.
Live Aid remains the unfortunate and inadvertent poster child for a development approach to Africa that still drives much of the sector today; the desire to identify and fix the challenges of poor countries and the belief that money is the primary solution. This harmful power dynamic was established back in 1884 at the Berlin Conference, where the continent was divided up between Europe.
It was well articulated by the journalist and explorer Henry Morten Stanley in his first book, Through the Dark Continent in 1878, about his travels in Africa. In it, he shared this insight: “The savage only respects force, power, boldness, and decision.”
Today, the shoes of “force, power, boldness, and decision” are on the feet of Africans. Africa is no longer the beggar depicted during Live Aid and this was evident at the UN general assembly gathering of world leaders in New York last month.
President William Ruto of Kenya summed it up aptly when he said; “We as Africa have come to the world, not to ask for alms, charity or handouts, but to work with the rest of the global community.”
That’s why bringing back Live Aid in any shape or form – given the era it represents – seems an outdated and almost outrageous idea. Led by a growing diaspora community, a new generation of Britons are experiencing Africa very differently. This time, it’s not through images of a broken people, it’s through our music, food, films, fashion and art. Do we really need a musical trip back to 1985?
Moky Makura is the executive director of Africa No Filter, an organisation working to shift stereotypical and harmful narratives within and about Africa through storytelling and community building.
