Wakanda is Real, but It’s a Nightmare

We’re Black Panther fans in this house, it being the only superhero movie set in Africa and all. 

Then I read Cobalt Red, and I told my kids that Wakanda is a real place – it’s called Congo. This is why: the fictional Wakanda held the mythical metal vibranium, which made it the most technologically advanced country on the planet. The nonfiction Congo holds more cobalt than the rest of the world combined, which is the metal required for lithium batteries. Given the worldwide demand for rechargeable batteries, one would assume that Congo should be the most technologically advanced country on the planet. Or at least the richest. Just like Wakanda. 

But Marvel doesn’t mirror real life. Despite the fact that over 70% of cobalt comes out of Congo (111,750 tons in 2021), the country languishes as the fourth poorest in the world. In this twisted fairytale, the wealth of Wakanda is raped, exploited, ravaged. In the greatest irony of ironies, only 9% of Congolese even have electricity. 

And then there’s the surprise ending: I benefit from this exploitation.  

Inside my home are dozens of objects that contain metals that likely originated in Congo. I sit here typing on a laptop containing a lithium battery. Next to me is my phone with another one. My Kindle, my cordless vacuum, the lawn mower Josiah reluctantly pushes on Saturdays. My house is decorated with souvenirs from my years in Africa, but I never contemplated how pieces of Africa are in every American pocket, purse, and bedroom. 

Cobalt Red is a great book to read if you want to be depressed. Author Siddharth Kara spent years researching the cobalt industry in Congo, including many months spent on the ground at the mines, evading officials to get face to face with what life really looks like. And he discovered it’s not much of a life: Congolese miners almost universally live in abject poverty – barely avoiding starvation, laboring in dangerous tunnels, exposed to toxic chemicals with no protective gear. Children make up a major part of the workforce and are granted no education and no medical care when the mines take their limbs or health. 

Truly, the picture could not possibly be more grim. 

Yet, Kara explains, “Today’s tech barons will tell you….that they uphold international human rights norms and that their particular supply chains are clean.” His book provides almost 300 pages of lurid detail that these statements are absolutely false. He describes, “As of 2022, there is no such thing as a clean supply chain of cobalt from the Congo. All cobalt sourced from the DRC is tainted by various degrees of abuse, including slavery, child labor, forced labor, debt bondage, human trafficking, hazardous and toxic working conditions, pathetic wages, injury and death, and incalculable environmental harm.”

Kara’s summary: “Our daily lives are powered by a human and environmental catastrophe in the Congo.”

In high school, I read a short story (I can’t recall the title or author) that disturbed me enough to stick with me all these years. It told of a village that was prosperous and happy, where everyone lived in a perpetual state of health, celebration, and joy. Lurking in a dark shack on the edge of the village was a single child – forsaken and abandoned, starving and suffering. Yet somehow the prosperity of the village was dependent on the misery of this one child. Though the villagers knew about the child, they deliberately chose to ignore it, not wanting to jeopardize their wealth and peace for the sake of one wretched child.

I didn’t get it then. I get it now. 

Kara writes: “Up to seventy percent of the cobalt from the DR Congo has some touch with child labor.”

In some Christian circles, it’s not popular to talk about oppression. We worry about being called a Marxist, or sympathetic with CRT. But it shouldn’t be considered anti-capitalist to bring these things to light. 

Scripture is filled with these exhortations: Better a little with righteousness than much gain with injustice. (Proverbs 16:8) Whoever oppresses the poor shows contempt for their Maker, but whoever is kind to the needy honors God. (Proverbs 14:31)

It’s understandable to protest, “But that’s not me. I’m not directly oppressing the poor. I’m not responsible for their misery by purchasing a laptop.” Indeed – and the oppression in the supply chain doesn’t fall only on the shoulders of American tech companies. Cobalt buyers are Chinese and Lebanese. Corrupt Congolese leaders are turning a blind eye for personal gain. 

True. But American consumers are benefitting from Congolese oppression. Their poverty results in our increased purchasing power. There’s just no way to explain it away. 

I saw a video of an African YouTuber who films himself bringing food to small children sleeping on African streets. Exploitative nature of these videos aside, they are heart-wrenching to watch. And the comment section is filled with heartfelt sentiments like, “I just want to take that child into my arms” and “I would adopt that child in a second.” 

I wanted to ask those commenters: But would you be willing to buy a laptop at five times the price? Would you be okay with your phone costing twice as much, if it meant that these children could have enough to eat and go to school every day? 

If I stood in a store and was faced with the choice of a laptop that cost $500, and another that could be guaranteed free trade that was $2500, would I choose the more expensive one? I’m a thrifty person; I feel in my bones that the choice would be much harder than it should be. I’d rather be like the villager who enjoys her prosperous life and prefers to ignore the child suffering in the corner.

Of course, fair trade laptops or electric cars aren’t even an option. And even if they were, I would be cynical. After all, even now, the tech giants will assure you that their supply chains are clean. And they are far from it. 

Sometimes I feel like a glutton for punishment in reading books like this. Reading Cobalt Red was excruciating. 

Kara writes, “The translator for my interviews, Augustin, was distraught after several days of trying to find the words in English that captured the grief being described in Swahili. He would at times drop his head and sob before attempting to translate what was said. As we parted ways, Augustin had this to say, ‘Please tell the people in your country, a child in the Congo dies every day so that they can plug in their phones.’”

So why do I put myself through this when there’s nothing I can do to change it? 

Because knowing the truth changes me. 

Comfort and prosperity are such sinister idols that anything that challenges them is a good thing. If knowing that the suffering of Congolese children is directly connected to my purchasing power, then I become much more careful with what, why, and how much I purchase. 

Don’t misunderstand me: I have a laptop and a phone. I may even buy an electric car someday. Our lives are too entwined with cobalt to simply stop purchasing things that contain it. But if someone else’s suffering contributes to my prosperity and comfort, then I must contemplate how I am stewarding that prosperity. Am I all about status, security, and entertainment? Or am I willing to deeply sacrifice for the kingdom of God? 

Recognizing my privilege – which is completely independent of my worth or merit – makes me more grateful, more humble, more content, more generous. More weighed down by the responsibility that comes with it. Let us not neglect to think on these things. 

Images are all from Pixabay: Guilherme Gomes, Cathe, Safari consoler