When I first read Kevin Starr’s “There Is No Such Thing as Impact Investing” essay, I could sense that the dam that held up the impact investing consensus over Africa’s (especially technology-business world) was finally (publicly) breaking.

Part of that breakage is at least downstream of the breakup between reality and what I like to call the SDG entrepreneur factory. This era, which peaked between 2013 and 2021, was defined by a specific brand of "kumbaya" social enterprise. Yet, for all its idealism, that period created one of the most important talent and career funnels for some of the most brilliant and hardy young entrepreneurs, operators, and investors in Africa today, yours truly included. It also brought a lot of global talent home.

And the words, incantations, and solemn liturgy of that era created a webbed silver screen that allowed us to dream deeply and participate in the Americanized version of neoliberal-activist entrepreneurship that was popular at the time. With African characteristics, bravado, and die-hard nuance baked in, of course.

All of that brought the first “real” capital, that is, institutionalized money, into tech startups from 2016 onwards. This was "new" money—capital that did not heavily screen for ephemeral things like age and prestige networks with the rigidity that previously existing institutional cheques, which were really relics of Africa’s private equity gilded age— the Abraaj era.

"The words, incantations, and solemn liturgy of that era created a webbed silver screen that allowed us to dream deeply."

All of a sudden, angel rounds and, consequently, angel investment communities became a thing, tech media sprouted, co-working tech hubs entered the real estate lexicon, and we began the ritual of tracking annual startup funding totals. The big guys, your OGs from banking IT infrastructure, telecoms, ecommerce, and management consulting, still ruled. But the narrative power of liberal-activist capitalism was strong enough to create enough fissures for younger unknowns to enter the room. Whether it was writing code, building startups, or writing cheques.

And it was not a uniquely African thing.

It’s important to have this context because that period is fading fast and is certainly nowhere near its peak. The story of African technology startups—indeed of most startup activity almost anywhere—is inextricably linked with the story of the geopolitical isms that ruled post-2008.

So in the stable and relatively genteel (deceptively so) geopolitical period from 2008 to 2017, where the business world mostly spoke the same cultured Davos language, things were fine—sort of. Hard, yes. But fine.

So it’s little wonder today, when the illusion of geopolitical sameness is being fractured at every turn, that when a hardware startup in Nigeria closes $11.7 million led by a conservative US venture capitalist, and announced like this:

You get the following visceral reaction, mainly from non-tech/investing folks. 

But also from some of the OGs, as seen below.

On one side, we received warns of Palantir and Joe Lonsdale. On another side, the grievance is a mix that invokes anti-Musk sentiment, disdain for Peter Thiel, and a rejection of Ayn Rand (an author I’ve never read, but who seems to be enjoying a spirited revival in "America-land"). 

A third declares “national security” risk — often with little understanding of how venture capital actually functions.

It would be easy to dismiss this as noise, which, frankly, in my opinion, it is. But the anxiety is revealing. 

And while I can write a case for why it’s silly that there is so much hand-wringing (on Twitter, no less) about a minority investment stake in a Nigerian-owned and controlled hardware tech startup. An investment, by the way, that could, in theory, reduce our dependence on (read this slowly) imported drone systems from Türkiye, the US, China, or Israel. Especially since the young chaps at the helm of this company spent a fair bit of time canvassing the halls of African investors (mostly DFI-backed and constrained) for capital, to little avail.

But a screenshot of this recent news item might perhaps write a much better argument than I ever could.

The pontification about geopolitics is not entirely unmerited. And as I mentioned earlier in this essay, depending on where you sit and how chronically online you are, you will have noticed the fracturing of the international silver screen narrative of global political order and norms.

"Market systems that have long voted on ethereal 'impact' are now weighing the cost of market-rate returns in a world of geopolitical disequilibrium."

If I am right, the rise of Africa’s tech startup and funding ecosystem has been inextricably linked with the performance of international business for SDG-style-good storytelling. Then I am also right in concluding that we have to squarely reckon with the stories of how the world works that brought us this far, and decide how much of the silver screen game we can reasonably countenance, and how much of a different story we will need to construct without falling into the sociopathic delusions on the global left-right political pendulum.

Starr’s article about how impact investing does not really exist, and the controversy of who participated in Terrahaptix’s latest round, couldn’t be further apart in terms of their focus. But their unique substance shares an eerily connected tissue. That market systems, which have long voted on ethereal “impact,” requiring sophisticated evaluation mechanisms, randomized controlled trials, and impact reports, are now or will soon be forced into weighing the cost of market-rate returns in a world of geopolitical disequilibrium and fast but inchoate technological transformation.

That tension will persist until we reckon honestly with the stories that brought us here — and decide which illusions we can still afford.

It’s a mistake to think of this as a solely Terrahaptix-Joe Lonsdale issue. That’s reductive. The fissure points will touch agtech and food, money-tech a.k.a stablecoins, climate tech and energy, and perhaps most importantly, how the future of work, labour, and income is organised.

As for Terrahaptix, the drama will blow over soon enough—do you even remember the Itana and Peter Thiel drama of 2023? But knowing Nigeria for what it is, and where it is today, I can almost bet that some poor, deluded but well-connected soul might go as far as taking the frankly idiotic “national security” claims at face value and try to shake down the guys at Terrahaptix.

They will survive. But this small friction is one more symptom of a world in transition.

Featured Photo by Pierre Bamin on Unsplash

When I first read Kevin Starr’s “There Is No Such Thing as Impact Investing” essay, I could sense that the dam that held up the impact investing consensus over Africa’s (especially technology-business world) was finally (publicly) breaking.

Part of that breakage is at least downstream of the breakup between reality and what I like to call the SDG entrepreneur factory. This era, which peaked between 2013 and 2021, was defined by a specific brand of "kumbaya" social enterprise. Yet, for all its idealism, that period created one of the most important talent and career funnels for some of the most brilliant and hardy young entrepreneurs, operators, and investors in Africa today, yours truly included. It also brought a lot of global talent home.

And the words, incantations, and solemn liturgy of that era created a webbed silver screen that allowed us to dream deeply and participate in the Americanized version of neoliberal-activist entrepreneurship that was popular at the time. With African characteristics, bravado, and die-hard nuance baked in, of course.

All of that brought the first “real” capital, that is, institutionalized money, into tech startups from 2016 onwards. This was "new" money—capital that did not heavily screen for ephemeral things like age and prestige networks with the rigidity that previously existing institutional cheques, which were really relics of Africa’s private equity gilded age— the Abraaj era.

"The words, incantations, and solemn liturgy of that era created a webbed silver screen that allowed us to dream deeply."

All of a sudden, angel rounds and, consequently, angel investment communities became a thing, tech media sprouted, co-working tech hubs entered the real estate lexicon, and we began the ritual of tracking annual startup funding totals. The big guys, your OGs from banking IT infrastructure, telecoms, ecommerce, and management consulting, still ruled. But the narrative power of liberal-activist capitalism was strong enough to create enough fissures for younger unknowns to enter the room. Whether it was writing code, building startups, or writing cheques.

And it was not a uniquely African thing.

It’s important to have this context because that period is fading fast and is certainly nowhere near its peak. The story of African technology startups—indeed of most startup activity almost anywhere—is inextricably linked with the story of the geopolitical isms that ruled post-2008.

So in the stable and relatively genteel (deceptively so) geopolitical period from 2008 to 2017, where the business world mostly spoke the same cultured Davos language, things were fine—sort of. Hard, yes. But fine.

So it’s little wonder today, when the illusion of geopolitical sameness is being fractured at every turn, that when a hardware startup in Nigeria closes $11.7 million led by a conservative US venture capitalist, and announced like this:

You get the following visceral reaction, mainly from non-tech/investing folks. 

But also from some of the OGs, as seen below.

On one side, we received warns of Palantir and Joe Lonsdale. On another side, the grievance is a mix that invokes anti-Musk sentiment, disdain for Peter Thiel, and a rejection of Ayn Rand (an author I’ve never read, but who seems to be enjoying a spirited revival in "America-land"). 

A third declares “national security” risk — often with little understanding of how venture capital actually functions.

It would be easy to dismiss this as noise, which, frankly, in my opinion, it is. But the anxiety is revealing. 

And while I can write a case for why it’s silly that there is so much hand-wringing (on Twitter, no less) about a minority investment stake in a Nigerian-owned and controlled hardware tech startup. An investment, by the way, that could, in theory, reduce our dependence on (read this slowly) imported drone systems from Türkiye, the US, China, or Israel. Especially since the young chaps at the helm of this company spent a fair bit of time canvassing the halls of African investors (mostly DFI-backed and constrained) for capital, to little avail.

But a screenshot of this recent news item might perhaps write a much better argument than I ever could.

The pontification about geopolitics is not entirely unmerited. And as I mentioned earlier in this essay, depending on where you sit and how chronically online you are, you will have noticed the fracturing of the international silver screen narrative of global political order and norms.

"Market systems that have long voted on ethereal 'impact' are now weighing the cost of market-rate returns in a world of geopolitical disequilibrium."

If I am right, the rise of Africa’s tech startup and funding ecosystem has been inextricably linked with the performance of international business for SDG-style-good storytelling. Then I am also right in concluding that we have to squarely reckon with the stories of how the world works that brought us this far, and decide how much of the silver screen game we can reasonably countenance, and how much of a different story we will need to construct without falling into the sociopathic delusions on the global left-right political pendulum.

Starr’s article about how impact investing does not really exist, and the controversy of who participated in Terrahaptix’s latest round, couldn’t be further apart in terms of their focus. But their unique substance shares an eerily connected tissue. That market systems, which have long voted on ethereal “impact,” requiring sophisticated evaluation mechanisms, randomized controlled trials, and impact reports, are now or will soon be forced into weighing the cost of market-rate returns in a world of geopolitical disequilibrium and fast but inchoate technological transformation.

That tension will persist until we reckon honestly with the stories that brought us here — and decide which illusions we can still afford.

It’s a mistake to think of this as a solely Terrahaptix-Joe Lonsdale issue. That’s reductive. The fissure points will touch agtech and food, money-tech a.k.a stablecoins, climate tech and energy, and perhaps most importantly, how the future of work, labour, and income is organised.

As for Terrahaptix, the drama will blow over soon enough—do you even remember the Itana and Peter Thiel drama of 2023? But knowing Nigeria for what it is, and where it is today, I can almost bet that some poor, deluded but well-connected soul might go as far as taking the frankly idiotic “national security” claims at face value and try to shake down the guys at Terrahaptix.

They will survive. But this small friction is one more symptom of a world in transition.

Featured Photo by Pierre Bamin on Unsplash