Originally from Zagnanado in central Benin, Leonard Wantchekon is a Professor of Politics and International Affairs at Princeton University. Largely, his work stands at the intersection of Politics, Economic History, and Development Economics, particularly in Africa, and has also contributed significantly to the literature on clientelism and state capture, resource curse and democratization.

 While pursuing his Ph.D. at the School of Economics from Northwestern University, he experienced a strong sense of isolation being one of the few African scholars. Furthermore, he realized there was poor representation of Africa-based Scholars producing literature about Africa. Most literature about Africa is done by academics who are neither African-born nor based in Africa. Influential development journals have few African scholars on their boards. Most major conferences about Africa do not take place there.

Professor Wantchekon’s goal is to change this and change the course of literature written about Africa. In 2014, Professor Wantchekon founded the African School of Economics in Abomey-Calavi, Benin. Its aim is to offer African students the highest standards of mathematics and economics teaching, sending as many Africans to Ph.D. programs and ensuring they can compete with graduates overseas. His goal is to produce original knowledge that tells the story of Africa from people who know and live in Africa and to be a check on what else is being said and done about Africa.

Professor Wantchekon’s lifelong dedication to achieve representation on economic and political discourse about Africa serves as an inspiration to many young African and African-American scholars.

Andy Iyabor (BT): When did it first occur to you that there was little to no representation of African-based scholars writing and producing literature about issues in Africa?

Leonard Wantchekon (LW): I think it was right in 1992 when I started my Ph.D. at Northwestern University. I was a graduate student in economics. I could not identify any publications that were taught in class by African-based scholars. For me, it was shocking because there are highly knowledgeable, talented, and skilled Africans who can write and publish effectively on issues that have to do with the continent. In terms of empirical data-driven work, there were there not many. This was also surprising because, by the time I became a grad student, it was long after Sir Arthur Lewis won the Nobel Prize in Economics. He worked in Ghana. So, you could expect that he would have inspired a lot of African scholars, but that was not the case.

 BT:  You graduated in 1995. How did it feel to be one of the few African in the profession?

LW: Firstly, I felt a burden. Most people, when they start their academic career, fully focus on getting published and getting tenure. After I got my first job at Yale, my top priority was to expand the pool of young African students studying Economics. I was able to bring young students from Benin and Togo to join Yale University and NYU so they could pursue a Ph.D. Later, I set up a research center that became a university. That was my first burden; the burden of doing something about the lack of representation.

But it also comes from a sense of isolation because when you have a lot of like-minded people with similar interests and backgrounds as you, you become more productive. And most times your skills are complementary to one another. That is what happens in every community. You can bounce ideas off of each other and this boosts productivity. When you are African, at least during those days, you are one of the very, very few. I had far fewer people to bounce ideas off. I had to talk to myself and with my wife, daughter, and friends who are non-economists.

You also see a lot of writings about Africa that you strongly disagree with because they don’t reflect good enough insights about the continent. You have to keep arguing. But in the end, I turned this frustration into an opportunity. Not just an opportunity for me but also for younger people.

BT: Opening another campus in Côte d’Ivoire, the African School of Economics seems to be growing successfully. What's your vision for the future of the school and what did you envision when it was founded in 2014?

LW: Over 90% of the top publications on Africa coming out of top Economic journals were by non-Africans. This cannot continue. So my goal was to get more African Ph.D. students and get them to write about Africa. If they weren’t interested in getting a Ph.D., at least they would be well trained enough to get top positions in the government, the World Bank, United Nations Development Program (UNDP), or to create their own think-tank. My second goal, besides getting more representation, is to make sure there is a check to what is written about Africa. For instance, the topic of democracy. If you are a Western scholar writing about democracy, you might conclude that democracy can never take root in Africa due to a lack of education and ethnic conflict. However, when you grow up in Africa you understand the idea that freedom and participation, which is the core of Democracy, has been present in Africa for centuries. 

Take education for example. Education research in the West focuses on the nuclear family as the unit of analysis. One of the predictions is that when your parents are uneducated or in poverty, it makes success much harder. But when you look at Africa, a lot of inspiration can come from the uncle, aunt, or neighbor. Because the unit is not the nuclear family, it’s the extended family or community. Take, for instance, many of the Nigerian families here. They push their children to achieve as much as possible. When you have not lived in Africa or seen how determined an African mother is at pushing her kids to school, you might not be able to understand that.

So first, my motivation was to send as many Africans to Ph.D. programs as possible. The second was--and continues to be--producing original knowledge that tells the story of Africa from people who know and live in Africa and to be a check on what else is being said and done about Africa. So it’s a matter of representation in economic and political discourse.

BT: As one of the few African scholars, you are seen as a pioneer, researching pressing development issues in Africa and solving them. What do you have to say to all the first-generation students who are seeking education as a means of improving their current situation?

LW: My advice is to remain very driven, determined, and curious. Most Africans are not crushed by the difficulty of the environment that they are in. There is a famous saying “Each time you fall get back up.” This is not a cliché because all of us have been through so many obstacles. You will fail several times before you make it. People will look down on you. But you have to keep pushing. I cannot tell you all my personal struggles and hardships. But I am African and that’s what we do; we always find a way to get back up.

I think what helped me a lot was my deep sense of curiosity. Asking questions to parents, uncles, and everyone. The story of Africa is still buried. It’s written in books and proverbs that we haven’t read and heard about. Let’s not take the story we hear about Nigeria or the stereotype we hear about Africans; go beyond that. Ask questions and learn about Nigerian art, Benin music, and different cultures. It doesn’t matter if you are studying science, math, or economics, just keep asking questions about Africa and her history.

In contrast, with Europe and the US, you can see much is written and recorded. This is not the case with Africa. Many times, what is published about Africa is so biased and wrong. And we can’t correct it unless we’re curious. To give one example, about a month ago I wanted to understand why people in Benin are so disciplined in following the guidelines to limit the transmission of COVID-19. I was talking with my sister and she told me she got smallpox in the ’60s and I started asking her many questions. We went as far as producing a documentary about smallpox in Africa and how it can help understand social distancing today. I’m not a health economist or an epidemiologist; I was just curious. In the process, I realized that my neighbor, a medical doctor in Benin, Dr. Yekpe, published a paper in the American Journal of Epidemiology in 1969! I was so excited to discover that someone that I knew growing up was a world-class epidemiologist.  This was simply because I started asking questions. If we all did this, whether you are a medical doctor, in literature, a mathematician, or a bank teller, we are going to create a bigger body of knowledge about Africa.

 BT: Your autobiography, Rêver à Contre Courant, details a left-wing pro-democracy student activist under a repressive military regime who made his way to America and now is a professor at Princeton. You are a success story. What about your best mates or community members from Benin? This question regards to social mobility in Benin. What can be done to make your story a more accessible reality for others? 

LW: We need to do a better job of telling those stories. Many stories are being buried and we should encourage people in my position and others to write their experiences and how they were able to push through. A big component of social mobility in Africa is having aspirations. What we do very well in Africa is leveraging the success of members of our family, our community, and others. “Look! He’s one of us and look at where he is. Look at what he’s doing. We can do that too.”

So, creating opportunities for people that have made it to meet and engage with people back home and people who are still young and trying to make it-- this is really important. We need to be more creative in how we do this. For instance, I just set up a Pan-African Scientific Research Council and one of the goals is to organize events with college and high school students and to get some of the best-known African scientists to work with them. Whether it’s a big media event, competition, etc. each student would be mentored and advised by African scientists who can be an inspiration.

There was a student who sent me an email and told me “I read your book!” And she knew every single detail about the book. If we can get more and more young people to search for sources of inspiration and promote African values that would be great.

BT: From student activist to Princeton professor, I am sure you still have the activist spirit in your heart. How do you feel about the recent protests going on?

LW: I was extremely happy and excited for three reasons:

The idea that people were not just trying to end police brutality but also the symbols of racial oppression showed me that the young kids are knowledgeable about the issues. They don’t just study math or economics; they know about African-American history and what Woodrow Wilson used to say and used to do. They were embedded in history and the movement reflected their deep knowledge. They were not just looking for immediate material benefits; they want something much deeper and bigger.  I was proud to see that.

The inclusiveness of the movement is also fascinating. The fact that today, more than ever, the Black Lives Matter movement is not just a movement of young Black people but of young people across races and even continents! This is very inspiring and is possible because of how the movement was framed and organized.

I am also excited because the movement is political, cultural, and peaceful. This is very much in line with what I was doing in the ’80s. We were not just fighting for immediate material benefit; we were fighting for democracy. We brought together people from different ethnic groups, rich families, and poor families. We wanted to bring to campus a culture of inclusive and participatory governance.  Students demanded access to audit reports and books so that we could reduce waste and corruption. 

It is so refreshing to see that young people today are so thoughtful, deliberate, and inclusive. We just have to make sure that this turns to a strong voter turnout at the November election.