Band Aid Charity Controversy Brings Back Bullying Memories
“My school years during the ‘Band Aid era’ were tainted by ostracization and condescension. Similarly, the Global North continues to exploit Africa while patronizing it with initiatives such as Band Aid.”
December 2024 marks the 40th anniversary of a charity collaboration, known as “Band Aid,” which aimed to raise funds for famine relief in war-torn Ethiopia in 1984. Led by Irish pop singer Bob Geldof, the project brought together British and Irish musicians in the production of the mind-numbingly patronizing song “Do they Know It’s Christmas?” which included lyrics such as the following:
“… there won’t be snow in Africa, this Christmas time.
The greatest gift they’ll get this year is life.
Where nothing ever grows, no rain nor rivers flow.
Do they know it’s Christmas time at all?”
Band Aid’s 2024 remix of “Do They Know It’s Christmas?” along with its previous versions (1984, 2004, 2014) is currently under heavy criticism in the UK. Commentators have called out the song’s condescending lyrics, the insinuation that Africa is a single country, the depiction of Africa as a place of despair, and the use of demeaning imagery. At the heart of the Band Aid narrative is the implication that challenges in Africa stem from intrinsic deficiencies, with no acknowledgement of the impact of colonialism on the continent’s hardships.
In recent years, Ghanaian-British singer-songwriter Fuse ODG has emerged as the leading critic of Band Aid, describing it as a project which “dehumanises Africans and destroys our pride and identity in the name of ‘charity.’” Fuse ODG’s concerns gained more attention when renowned musician Ed Sheeran endorsed his critique of Band Aid, sharing it with a broader audience. Additionally, Ethiopia’s Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed has expressed frustration in seeing “our nation’s ancient history, culture, diversity and beauty reduced to doom and gloom.”
Contrary to the grim depiction of Africa by Band Aid, my childhood experiences in Nigeria were very much the opposite. I lived with my family in a newly built single-storey house situated in a housing complex designated for university staff. During that time, my life was carefree: I attended a culturally diverse international school, played with friends, and participated in various social events. And while it might come as a surprise to the organizers of Band Aid, the amenities at my school in Jos, Nigeria, surpassed those of my school in Liverpool, UK.
Source: Facebook
Conversely, in the 1980s, my family’s relocation to the UK was a time of significant struggle for me. We lived in a cramped house on a hostile housing estate in Birkenhead, a town near Liverpool, known for its socio-economic challenges. As a Black biracial child, I often faced racial insults from the neighborhood boys. Additionally, during that period, school life at a virtually all-white private girls’ school in Liverpool was infested with the same patronizing energy embodied by the Band Aid initiative, alongside more blatant prejudice.
In a city with deep-seated anti-black sentiments, I endured full-blown ostracism during my first year at the Liverpool school. At that time, no one saw fit to include me in their circle; I coped with the isolation by spending my lunch hours practicing the piano in one of the music rooms. Eventually, four girls allowed me into their group, but it was clear that I was not regarded as an equal: they addressed me in a condescending manner, mocked my hair, and excused the openly antagonistic behavior of other classmates.
“The year that I was shunned, my classmates made the grand gesture of presenting me with cards and gifts at Christmas time.”
There was a girl, not part of my circle of “friends” — we’ll call her Veronica — who made a point of studiously ignoring me throughout my years at that school. Veronica was a curious character: with long straggling brown hair, in an unkempt ponytail, she rarely participated in class and walked with an uneven gait. With her posher-than-usual accent and selectiveness in terms of who she deigned to converse with, she managed to project an air of superiority among the girls who had detectable Liverpool accents.
One day, the usually taciturn Veronica — who at the time must have been about 18 — made her presence felt. I was with a group of girls that she was engaging with, and my being there seemed to irk her. Feigning casualness, seemingly out of the blue, she declared, “you’ll never believe this, when we visited Southampton, I walked into a pub, and it was full of w*gs!” (“W*g” is a racial slur used in the UK.)
Amid the atmosphere of overt and covert hostility, occasionally, I encountered a contrived niceness. For example, during the year that I was shunned, my classmates made the grand gesture of presenting me with cards and gifts at Christmas time. Yet, their congeniality was conditional and could quickly evaporate. On one of the rare occasions when I dared to speak out against patronizing treatment, I was berated by one of Veronica’s cronies, referred to here as Elsie. Elsie was incensed by what she perceived as my ingratitude and uppity behavior, declaring to everyone that I had no grounds for complaint and ought to appreciate any form of inclusion.
“Just as Christmas goodwill doesn’t justify year-round contempt, initiatives like Band Aid fail to offer meaningful solutions to problems caused by colonialism and neocolonialism.”
In the UK, the Band Aid initiative has catapulted Bob Geldof to the status of hero for his contributions to “Africa.” However, some critics have suggested that the denigration of Africa inherent in Band Aid’s approach has been more detrimental than beneficial. OG Fuse has argued that projects such as Band Aid “perpetuate damaging stereotypes that stifle Africa’s economic growth, tourism and investment, ultimately costing the continent trillions and destroying its dignity, pride and identity.” In a similar vein, Ethiopia’s Prime Minister recently remarked that “a good cause that has not evolved with the times might end up doing more harm than good,” further noting that “the [Band Aid] song is not a great soundtrack for the investment we need.”
Indeed, it could be argued that if Geldof had wanted to make meaningful changes, he could have used his influence to highlight the exploitation of Africa through historical colonialism and current neocolonial practices. Additionally, he could have utilized his public platform to advocate for significant international policy reforms such as reparations and debt forgiveness.
But instead of considering commentators’ concerns with a modicum of humility, Geldof has reacted with disdain, dismissing recent feedback as “the greatest load of bollocks ever.” Reacting to an article in The Conversation that highlighted Band Aid’s use of demeaning colonial tropes regarding Africa, Geldof retorted with similar contempt, stating, “‘colonial tropes,’ my arse.” According to The Express newspaper, in previous years, Geldof has gone so far as to tell Band Aid critics to f*** off.
My school years during the “Band Aid era” were tainted by ostracization and condescension. Similarly, the Global North continues to exploit Africa while patronizing it with initiatives such as Band Aid. My objections regarding the treatment I endured at school were met with hostility, mirroring Geldof’s belligerent reaction to criticisms of Band Aid. Just as Christmas goodwill doesn’t justify year-round contempt, initiatives like Band Aid fail to offer meaningful solutions to problems caused by colonialism and neocolonialism. Ultimately, there needs to be an honest discussion regarding the Global North’s historical role in under developing Africa, as well as its current role in sustaining structural inequities.
Originally published at DailyKos.com on December 8, 2024
