One of the most painful truths in Africa’s history is not only that millions were taken, but that the tragedy was made possible by local intermediaries who misread the danger, sought short-term gains, or succumbed to external pressure. Exploitation in Africa has never occurred in isolation. It has always had two sides: the external demand and the internal collaborator. This is not a theoretical warning. It is not a distant memory. It is happening again. As Europe’s demographic crisis intensifies, African leaders face mounting incentives to support new labour-export schemes.
Yet these schemes, often advertised as ‘opportunities,’ overwhelmingly position African youth in the lowest-tier jobs, the jobs Europeans avoid. In response to Essay 2, one reader captured this tragedy in a single line: ‘Least desirable jobs is my take-home.’ It is a painful but accurate summary. Africa is filling the roles others reject, not because our young people lack intelligence or ambition, but because social, political, and economic pressures leave them with no meaningful alternative.
As that same reader wrote, ‘We willingly hand ourselves over, though not willing in the true sense of the word.’ This is where the modern collaboration begins.
Leaders enable exploitation when local conditions become unbearable. High youth unemployment, unstable incomes, and limited social protection create a landscape where migration feels like the only option. This desperation relieves governments of pressure to create jobs at home, while remittances conveniently mask deeper structural failures. Sending youth abroad becomes a political release valve.
The illusion of ‘opportunity’ hides the reality of outsourcing human vulnerability. As one young Ugandan observed, soldiers sometimes sign up to fight in foreign wars knowing the odds of survival are uncertain not because they are brave, but because economic desperation has narrowed their choices. He wrote: ‘If men knowingly walk into a war zone, we as Africans must have been dazed on something.’
The same logic applies to African labour migrants. When staying home means stagnation, and going abroad means survival, exploitation begins to feel like opportunity. That is how collaboration works: quietly, gradually, and often unintentionally. Illegal labour markets flourish because desperation outpaces protection.
Governments issue statements about protecting migrant workers, yet the most abusive recruitment channels remain the most profitable. The reader shared an article detailing cases where migrants endured severe violations because illegal brokers act faster than official channels; bureaucratic delays push people into danger; and desperate migrants choose exploitation over waiting ‘just to wash dishes in a foreign land.’ This is not future risk. This is current reality.
Why African leaders collaborate – consciously or unconsciously. The incentives are powerful: remittances boost national foreign exchange; labour-export policies reduce domestic unemployment pressure; bilateral agreements earn political favour; external partners reward compliance; and corruption within recruitment systems enriches intermediaries. Some leaders see migration as a development strategy, not realising that it is also a long-term leakage of national talent and human capital.
If we cannot name the problem, we cannot solve it. In earlier drafts, I wrote cautiously that African collaboration ‘may happen again.’ But readers are right: it is already happening, and we must say so clearly. Collaboration today is not about selling bodies for rifles or cloth. It is about endorsing systems that channel our youth into foreign economies that value their labour but not their lives.
Unless African states renegotiate their relationship with global labour markets – with dignity, protection, and sovereignty – we risk repeating the most painful chapter of our history, written in modern language and carried out with quiet consent.
Essay 4 – ‘Europe’s Blind Spot: Why Europeans Themselves Don’t Know What Is Being Done in Their Name.’