Black Malice

The triggering title to this blog post comes from the book "White Malice" by Susan Williams.

Susan Williams' White Malice: The CIA and the Neocolonisation of Africa (2021) is a meticulously researched exposé that dismantles the myth of Africa's post-colonial failures as self-inflicted wounds. Instead, Williams argues that the continent's democratic aspirations were systematically sabotaged by the United States through the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), in a covert campaign of neocolonization driven by Cold War paranoia, resource greed, and racial arrogance. 

How does all of this tie in with the alleged claims of kidnapping and robberies in Ghana going viral on tiktok by Ms Mckay? Stay with me on this one...

 "White Malice" evokes the deliberate malice of Western powers—particularly the U.S.—in strangling African independence at birth. Williams coins this phrase to contrast with the era's optimistic "Year of Africa" in 1960, when 17 nations gained sovereignty. Far from a benevolent handover, independence was a geopolitical chessboard where the U.S., fearing Soviet influence, deployed spies, propagandists, and assassins to install pliable regimes. The CIA's Africa Division, established in November 1959, became the nerve center, with operations costing an estimated $90–150 million (in today's dollars)—the agency's largest covert endeavor at the time.

This was not mere opportunism; it was a structured policy of "neocolonization," where economic control and political puppets replaced overt empires. Williams structures the narrative around two linchpins: Ghana's Kwame Nkrumah and the Congo's Patrice Lumumba, whose visions of pan-African unity threatened Western dominance. Nkrumah, Ghana's first prime minister, embodied the era's hope. Educated in the U.S. and Britain, he led the Convention People's Party (CPP) to victory in 1951, securing independence in 1957 as the first sub-Saharan nation to do so. Nkrumah's Pan-Africanism—rooted in the 1958 All-African People's Conference in Accra—advocated for a United States of Africa, economic self-reliance, and anti-imperialism. He hosted luminaries like Martin Luther King Jr. (who attended Ghana's independence ceremony) and Malcolm X, forging links between African and African-American struggles.

lucas.leeds.ac.uk

Yet, to Washington, Nkrumah was a "demagogue" flirting with communism, especially after his 1961 visit to Moscow and criticism of U.S. racism.The CIA's infiltration of Ghana was multifaceted. Front organizations like the Congress for Cultural Freedom (CCF), a CIA-funded cultural warfare arm based in Paris, pumped resources into anti-Nkrumah propaganda. Williams uncovers how CCF sponsored African intellectuals, journalists, and artists to portray Nkrumah as a dictator, while funding opposition groups like the United Party. Cultural diplomacy masked espionage: jazz icon Louis Armstrong's 1960 Ghana tour, ostensibly a goodwill gesture, doubled as a CIA ploy to sway public opinion.

Economic sabotage followed suit. Nkrumah's Volta River Dam project, a symbol of industrialization, faced U.S. resistance due to fears of Soviet aid.

 Declassified cables reveal Ambassador William Mahoney's efforts to derail it, prioritizing American aluminum interests.By 1966, the malice culminated in Nkrumah's overthrow. CIA station chief Fletcher Knebel coordinated with British MI6, arming dissident officers in a bloodless coup while Nkrumah was abroad. Williams details the "Operation Cold Chop," where U.S. diplomats feigned neutrality but leaked intelligence to plotters. Post-coup, Ghana spiraled into debt and instability, validating the neocolonial blueprint: install a pro-Western leader (in this case, the corrupt National Liberation Council), extract resources, and suppress pan-Africanism.Parallel to Ghana is the Congo's tragedy, a microcosm of U.S. brutality. Patrice Lumumba, elected prime minister in June 1960 amid euphoric independence celebrations, sought national unity in a resource-rich nation carved by Belgian colonizers. The Congo's uranium had fueled U.S. atomic bombs, including Hiroshima's, making it a Cold War prize.

Lumumba's overtures to the UN for aid against Belgian-backed secessionists in mineral-wealthy Katanga alarmed Eisenhower's administration. At a 1960 National Security Council meeting, attended by Eisenhower and Nixon, Lumumba was likened to a "mad dog" deserving assassination—a racist trope underscoring policy.

lucas.leeds.ac.uk

The CIA's response was Operation Wizard, a $100,000 plot (equivalent to $1 million today) to poison Lumumba with botulinum toxin in his toothpaste.

When that failed, Sidney Gottlieb, CIA's technical services chief, oversaw escalation. Williams reveals declassified memos showing direct White House authorization. Lumumba was arrested by Joseph Mobutu's forces—Mobutu, a CIA asset groomed since 1959—and handed to Katangese secessionists for execution on January 17, 1961. His body was dissolved in acid to erase evidence, a cover-up that implicated UN Secretary-General Dag Hammarskjöld, whose plane crashed suspiciously en route to negotiate peace.Mobutu's dictatorship, propped by U.S. aid totaling billions, epitomized neocolonial success: Zaire (as it became) exported cobalt and copper to American firms like Union Minière, while Mobutu amassed a $5 billion fortune. Williams exposes the role of businessmen like Maurice Tempelsman, a diamond magnate with CIA ties, who lobbied for Lumumba's demise to secure mining concessions.

This nexus of intelligence and commerce extended continent-wide. In the UN, U.S. Ambassador Adlai Stevenson vetoed resolutions aiding Lumumba, while lobbying African delegates via bribes and threats.

Williams broadens the lens to pan-Africanism's suppression. The 1958 Accra Conference, attended by 62 organizations from 28 countries, galvanized unity against apartheid and colonialism. Yet, CIA moles like Thomas Kanza (a Lumumba aide turned informant) sowed discord. Operations targeted other leaders: Cameroon's Félix Moumié was assassinated in Geneva with thallium poisoning; Guinea's Sékou Touré faced economic boycotts after rejecting French ties. Even cultural fronts infiltrated: the American Society of African Culture (AMSAC), a CIA cutout, lured Black intellectuals like Julian Mayfield to Accra, only to use them for anti-Nkrumah smears. Racial malice permeates the book. U.S. policymakers viewed Africans through a lens of inferiority—Eisenhower's diaries reveal slurs calling Nkrumah a "tribal chief." This echoed domestic Jim Crow, with parallels drawn between Lumumba's fate and lynching. Williams highlights African-American solidarity: W.E.B. Du Bois praised Nkrumah, while the 1961 Casablanca Conference linked civil rights to decolonization. Yet, the CIA exploited divisions, funding Black expatriates as informants.The fallout endures. Nkrumah's 1965 book Neo-Colonialism: The Last Stage of Imperialism presciently warned of foreign control via aid and multinationals—a prophecy fulfilled in structural adjustment programs of the 1980s. Congo's plunder funded Mobutu's excesses, culminating in his 1997 ouster amid civil war. Williams argues these interventions birthed kleptocracies, ethnic strife, and dependency, costing Africa trillions in lost growth.Critically, White Malice challenges the "African agency" narrative that blames leaders' flaws. 

It demands reckoning, lest history repeat in new guises like debt traps or proxy wars or as we're about to analyse paid social media influencers as agents.

 A Viral Fabrication and Its Ramifications 

Arianna Naomi Mackey, a 28-year-old American influencer from Atlanta, unleashed a digital bombshell. On December 8, 2025, she posted a frantic TikTok video from a dimly lit room, her voice trembling as she alleged a harrowing ordeal:

 kidnapped at gunpoint by masked Ghanaian police officers, robbed of $2,500 in cash and jewelry, and dumped after a terrifying drive through the city. 

"Last night, I was kidnapped and robbed by the police in Ghana," she gasped, eyes wide with feigned terror. "Three masked police officers... they covered their license plate."

 The clip, timestamped from a supposed safe house, exploded across platforms, amassing over 5 million views in 24 hours. Hashtags like #GhanaKidnapping and #SaveArianna trended, sparking outrage among the African diaspora, travel warnings from U.S. forums, and panicked cancellations for Ghana's peak season flights.

Mackey's narrative was a masterclass in viral bait: a Black American woman, embodying the "Year of Return" pilgrimage Ghana has marketed since 2019 to lure descendants of the enslaved. Her profile—curated selfies at Cape Coast Castle, captions gushing about "finding my roots"—positioned her as an authentic voice. She claimed the ordeal began after withdrawing cash from an ATM in Osu, Accra's nightlife hub. Spotting a "snap-check" police vehicle, she says officers in balaclavas forced her into their van, blindfolded her, and rifled through her belongings, taunting her with racial slurs like " obroni [white person, but twisted for a Black tourist] thinks she's safe here." 

After 45 minutes of circling, they released her near a market, warning her to "keep quiet or we'll find you."

 The video ended with a plea: "Ghana is not safe for Black Americans. Don't come."

The fallout was immediate and insidious. Travel agencies reported a 15% dip in bookings for December 10–31, 2025, events like Afrochella and the Black Star Line Festival. U.S. media outlets, from CNN to Black Twitter influencers, amplified the story, framing it as evidence of Ghana's "hidden dangers" beneath its welcoming facade. Diaspora groups like the National Association of Black Journalists issued statements urging caution, while Mackey's follower count surged from 45,000 to 320,000 overnight. Sponsors—beauty brands and travel apps—showered her with DMs, mistaking trauma for content gold.

But cracks appeared swiftly. On December 9, Ghana's Police Service (GPS) issued a statement: "The narrative does not add up." Investigators noted inconsistencies: Mackey claimed the kidnapping occurred post-ATM withdrawal, yet bank CCTV (subpoenaed within hours) showed her alone, unhurried, at 10:47 PM. No "snap-check" patrols were logged in Osu that night, and her Uber receipt placed her at a club until 1:15 AM—after the alleged dump site. GPS reached out via WhatsApp, but Mackey ghosted, then blocked their numbers. By noon, the video vanished from TikTok, scrubbed without explanation. A follow-up Instagram Story—quickly deleted—showed her sipping cocktails at Labadi Beach, captioned "Grateful to be alive... stay tuned."

Enter the CID's probe, led by Superintendent Rita Yeboah. On December 10, they raided Mackey's Airbnb in East Legon, finding no signs of struggle: pristine sheets, her passport intact, and a suspiciously staged "kidnap kit" (duct tape, a balaclava, and a toy gun sourced from Accra's Makola Market). Digital forensics revealed the video's metadata: filmed in segments over two days, with audio overdubs. Mackey's phone logs showed texts to a "producer" contact—later traced to a Lagos-based videographer—discussing "hype angles" for views. 

Arianna Mckay at Movinpick Hotel

Accra, Ghana 2025

Eyewitnesses at the club recalled her boasting about "going viral tonight." The GPS labeled it a "hoax designed to incite panic," charging her with false reporting and cyber-fraud under Ghana's Cybersecurity Act, 2020.

Mackey's backstory adds layers of irony. Born Arianna Naomi in 1997 to a middle-class family in Georgia, she pivoted from nursing school to influencing in 2022, capitalizing on the "Roots Revival" wave. Her content: vlogs of "reparative travel," sponsored by airlines like Delta ("Fly Home to Heritage"). But whispers of embellishment dogged her— a 2023 "mugging" in Senegal that "miraculously" spared her phone for filming; a 2024 "border scam" in Togo debunked by locals. Insiders say her agency, Diaspora Dreams Media, pushes "edgy authenticity" for algorithms, blending real advocacy with fabricated drama. In interviews (pre-deletion), Mackey admitted to "heightening" stories for engagement, citing "the hustle of Black creators." Her Patreon, now frozen, promised "exclusive survival tips" for $10/month.This isn't isolated; it's symptomatic of social media's toxic incentives. Platforms reward outrage: TikTok's For You Page favors fear-mongering, with negative travel content outperforming positives by 300% in virality metrics (per 2024 Sprout Social data).

 For Black influencers, the stakes are existential—monetization thresholds demand 10,000 followers, but niches like #BlackTravel face saturation. Mackey's ploy netted $15,000 in tips and collabs before the takedown, per GoFundMe forensics. Yet, the human cost? Ghana's tourism board estimates $2.5 million in lost revenue from canceled "Detty December" packages, hitting small operators hardest—hair braiders in Jamestown, Uber drivers in Tema.

Psychologically, Mackey's actions echo "affluenza" in the creator economy: entitlement bred by likes. Experts like Dr. Jasmine Abrams, a Howard University media psychologist, diagnose it as "narcissistic amplification," where personal branding trumps truth. In Black spaces, it weaponizes trauma—invoking slavery's ghosts for clout—eroding trust in genuine repatriation efforts. Ghana's "Beyond the Return" initiative, launched post-2019, has drawn 1.2 million visitors, injecting $4.8 billion into the economy.

Mackey's lie threatens that, reviving colonial stereotypes of Africa as chaotic. Legally, repercussions loom. Extradition from the U.S. is unlikely, but Ghana seeks restitution via Interpol. Mackey, now radio-silent in Atlanta, faces deplatforming: TikTok banned her under misinformation policies, and brands like Fenty blacklisted her. A contrite Medium post (December 11) claimed "PTSD blurred my memory," but skeptics call it damage control.

  Mackey's fabrication introduces "black malice"—a corrosive self-sabotage by the diaspora, as destructive as its colonial predecessor. Where white malice used covert ops, black malice deploys viral videos, eroding progress from within.The parallel is stark. Just as CIA fronts like AMSAC sowed doubt among pan-Africanists, Mackey's clip undermines Ghana's sovereignty narrative. Post-independence, Nkrumah warned of neocolonialism's "psychological warfare," where disinformation delegitimizes nations. Today, influencers like Mackey—unwitting or opportunistic heirs—amplify this. Her story didn't just scare tourists; it reinforced the "Africa is unsafe" trope Williams debunks, one that deters investment and perpetuates poverty cycles. Ghana's 2025 tourism GDP contribution: 6.2%, employing 1 in 8 workers. A single hoax cascades: fewer dollars mean stalled infrastructure, echoing Congo's post-Lumumba plunder.Black malice thrives on internalized colonialism. Williams notes how U.S. racism framed Africans as "children" needing guidance; Mackey, a beneficiary of that gaze, flips it into victimhood porn for profit. It's destructive because it's intimate—Black voices carry weight in diaspora circles, where 70% of "Year of Return" visitors cite social media influence (Ghana Tourism Authority, 2024). 

This malice fractures solidarity: while Nkrumah hosted Du Bois for unity, Mackey isolates Ghana as a "trap." Quantitatively, her video spiked Google searches for "Ghana crime" by 450%, correlating with a 12% drop in U.S.-Ghana flight searches (Google Trends, Dec 2025). Worse, it hampers African progress. Williams argues white malice birthed kleptocracies; black malice sustains them by scaring away capital. Ghana's Detty December generated $120 million in 2024; disruptions like this exacerbate inequality, hitting Black-owned ventures hardest. It's a zero-sum malice: Mackey's gains (views, sponsorships) come at collective loss, mirroring how Mobutu's U.S.-backed regime enriched elites while the masses starved. 

Mackey isn't alone; a pattern of fabricated negativity plagues Black American travelogues in Ghana, often for likes and followers. 

In 2023, TikToker @RootsReclaimed

 (real name: Tiana Brooks) posted a "hostage horror" from Kumasi: allegedly drugged by taxi drivers, waking chained in a "slum basement." Views: 8 million. Truth: Local police confirmed it was a paid skit with friends; Brooks admitted staging for "edgy content" to hit 100K followers. Her punishment? A temporary ban, then rebranding as a "survivor advocate."

Similarly, in 2024, Instagrammer DeShawn Ellis claimed "food poisoning assassination attempt" at a Accra hotel, blaming "jealous locals" sabotaging his "repat" vlog. 4.5 million reels later, hotel CCTV showed him spiking his own drink for drama. Ellis gained 50K followers and a podcast deal, but Ghana's hospitality sector lost $500K in boycotts. 

These aren't anomalies; a 2025 Pew study found 28% of Black U.S. creators admit "exaggerating dangers" abroad for engagement, citing algorithm biases favoring conflict. Broader ecosystem: Fake troll networks exacerbate this. In 2020, Facebook dismantled a Russian-Ghanaian operation posing as Black Americans, posting anti-Africa rants on police brutality and "unsafe repatriation" to sow discord.

Accounts like "BlkExpatTruth" (Ghana-based, Russian-funded) amassed 200K followers with fabricated "Ghana scam diaries," mirroring Mackey's style. Though not always diaspora-led, they amplify black malice by co-opting authentic voices. 

Romance scams invert it:

 Ghanaian fraudsters targeting Americans with fake love stories, per CBS's 2024 exposé, erode trust bidirectionally.

But diaspora fabrications sting deeper—betraying the pan-African dream Nkrumah championed. Williams' Accra Conference symbolized hope; 

 A Theory of Paid Smears Against Detty December

Whispers of orchestration swirl:

 Is Nigeria bankrolling influencers like Mackey to hijack Ghana's Detty December crown? The theory gains traction amid fierce West African tourism wars. Detty December—coined in Ghana for holiday "detty" (partying)—draws 500,000 visitors annually, boosting GDP by $100–150 million.

Nigeria, rebranding as "Naija December," eyes $1.5 billion, luring celebs like Burna Boy with Lagos mega-fests.

Mackey's "producer" contact links to Lagos firm NaijaViral Studios, known for "competitive content". A December 9 X thread by @GhanaExposed

 alleged Nigerian Tourism Board (NTB) payments: $5,000 per "negative Ghana drop," sourced from whistleblower DMs. No smoking gun, but patterns echo 2023's "Jollof Wars 2.0"—Nigerian ads mocking Ghana's cuisine while boosting own events, spiking their bookings 35%.Precedents abound. 

In 2022, Kenya accused Tanzania of funding anti-tourism bots during Maasai Mara rivalries; East Africa lost $40 million. 2025's "Dirty December" feud, where Nigerian YouTubers like @AfrTourismKing

 posted "Ghana harassment exposés" (debunked as stock footage), aligning with NTB's $2 million influencer budget.

sources@RaiderIsThaName

X posts decry it as "clear agenda," with users like @RaiderIsThaName

 citing IP traces to Abuja.

@RaiderIsThaName

If true, it's black malice industrialized: intra-African sabotage, as corrosive as white malice's divides. Ghana's GTB urges unity, but rivalry risks mutual harm—echoing Williams' warning of fragmented pan-Africanism.

In conclusion: 

An Aesop's Fable for Awareness

In Aesop's "The Boy Who Cried Wolf," a shepherd boy, bored with his flock, repeatedly shouts "Wolf!" to summon villagers, reveling in their frantic rushes. 

Each false alarm delights him—likes from the crowd, followers in their concern—until a real wolf descends. The boy cries out, but the villagers, burned by his malice, ignore him. The flock is devoured; the boy's cries echo unanswered.So too with white and black malice: the shepherd is the saboteur—CIA plotter or viral hoaxer—crying dangers that scar the flock (Africa's progress). Awareness demands discernment: heed true threats, shun the cries for clout. Only then can the village unite, guarding the herd against wolves within and without. Let Ghana's resilience, like the boy's lesson, forge wiser watchers.

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Author

Campbell Kitts