Why the Great War? 

A view from contemporaneous Bandiagara (Mali)

Why did World War I happen?

Malian author Amadou Hampâté Bâ in his memoirs (vol. 1, ch. 5) relates a discussion about this, which he witnessed in 1914.  Not seeing it English’d on line, TiR hereby gives it a shot:

The men, seated in groups, debated among themselves.  . . .

From one group arose Guéla M’Bouré, a Diawando, who was called The Great Speaker.  He demanded silence from everyone.  Then he proclaimed in a loud voice:

‘We’ve been talking for a long time here.  We are looking to understand why the French, who rule over us, and the Germans, whom we don’t even know, are on a path to war.  Some among us have said that the quarrel must be one over women, because the French tribe lacks access to sufficient wives to bear them enough children.  Others have said that it is a quarrel over hunting grounds, or fields for gathering crops or raising livestock. 

‘O my mother’s brothers, you all miss the point!  The truth lies elsewhere!  Here is the truth, presented with no meandering stream of digressions, no rough patches of ground, but laid out as straight and flat as a floodplain:  The most important raw material that the White Man cares about is us.  To some of us, they have taught their language; to others of us, how to till the soil; to others, the arts of war, and so it goes. 

‘Why have they done all that?  They are not apostles, come to carry out a charitable mission, without expectation of an immediate reward.  They work only for this earthly life. They expect nothing from the world beyond. Some among them even believe neither in God nor the afterlife.   So it is said, their leaders have burned their bridges to God.  Their holy men have no place in the council of elders.  They have separated with a clean break their mosque, called the Church, and their house of debate, called the State or Parliament.’

. . .

‘Why have the toubabs come to invade us?  Why do they capture and subjugate us? Solely to take advantage of us, when the need arises, just as a hunter uses his hound, the rider his horse or the master his slave:  Either to help with the work, or to fight their enemies.  This comes as no surprise.  We too, in olden days, took prisoners of war, before becoming ones ourselves.’

. . .

‘And why have the toubabs of Europe declared war on each other?  My brothers, I will tell you why.  The French have gone to war to keep hold of us, nothing more, and the Germans to steal us for themselves.  Look for no other explanation.  Besides, why waste our time, to ponder the motives behind their wrangling?  Better it would be instead to find some means to thwart this calamity.  Because, regardless of this war’s cause, its weight will fall on us, one way or another.’

What were the aftereffects of the Great War?

Bâ offers his own reflections, several dozen pages later:

One major effect of the War of 1914, however little known, was to bring about the first great break in the passing down of our oral tradition and knowledge. The rupture occurred not only deep within the groups that transmitted our rites of passage, but also with regard to our professional guilds, our religious beliefs, and our craft associations, the workshops of which had served in effect as traditional teaching centers. 

The hemorrhage of young people sent to the front, from where many would never return; the intense recruitment drives to supply forced labor for the war effort; the exodus in waves to the Gold Coast: all this deprived our wise elders of the next generation that they needed, to pass the baton.  The oral transmission of our great cultural heritage fell into eclipse, to a greater or lesser degree depending on the region.  As the decades unfolded, the process would only become aggravated, under the impact of new social forces.

A few pages later, Bâ adds:

In 1918-19, when those who survived the Great War returned to cross their homes’ thresholds again, a new social phenomenon resulted, one not without consequence for the future evolution of mental attitudes: I speak here of the downfall of the myth of the flawless, invincible European. 

Up until that point, the White Man was considered, in fact, as a special being.  His power was crushing.  No one could shield themselves against it.  His wealth was bottomless.  Moreover, fate seemed miraculously to have spared him from all imperfection, physical or mental.  Colonial administrators were seen never incapacitated or enfeebled.    They were always seen smartly dressed, wealthy, powerful, and secure in their authority.  They spoke in the name of the ‘mother country.’  To hear them tell it, all was just and proper. 

What we did not know back then was that the weak, the misshapen, the sick and the unhinged had been preliminarily screened out, as much as that were possible.  When a colonizer did fall ill, he was hastily shipped back to the metropole.

When these black infantrymen returned home, they told their story, night after night, of all that they had seen. No, the white man was not a superman, blessed with a protection we knew not whether divine or diabolical.  He was a man like ourselves, likewise a mixture of positive qualities and flaws, of strength and weakness.  And when our black soldiers learned that their medals and veterans’ status earned them less than half the pension of their white comrades, along whom they likewise fought and suffered, certain among them dared to speak of equality, and even to demand it.  Thus it was, in 1919, for the first time, that a wind began to blow, a spirit of emancipation, a demand for it, which in due course could only end by sweeping through other social strata.

Some original language links to the above and various context can be found here, here, here, here and here.