An award-winning artist from Zambia, Esther Mwema is unravelling the deep-rooted entanglements between technology, infrastructure and colonial legacies. Her work sits at the crossroads of art, activism, and digital critique—a space where invisible infrastructures and global power dynamics collide. In her latest project, Mwema probes the myth of neutrality in digital systems, tracing how undersea cables, satellite networks and data flows often mirror the exploitative logics of colonial empires.
In this conversation, we journey through her exploration of the “cosmologies of internet infrastructure”—a reimagining of how the internet is built, governed, and experienced. Mwema unpacks how tech giants are redrawing Africa’s digital map in ways that often echo imperial blueprints. She offers an alternative vision grounded in indigenous knowledge, community sovereignty and ethical tech practices. We also delve into the global swell of resistance to digital colonialism—from grass-roots networks to policy advocacy—and the possibilities they hold for a fairer digital future.
Esther Mwema is unravelling the deep-rooted entanglements between technology, infrastructure and colonial legacies. Could you tell us more about your work focusing on the “cosmologies of internet infrastructure”? What does that mean exactly?
In our society, we often focus on various aspects of the digital sphere, treating them as independent. My work aims to uncover the hidden systems of power that unify them. As part of the Green Screen Coalition’s Catalyst Fund Award, I received support for my project Afro-Grids. This project examines the investments of major tech companies in African internet infrastructure—from submarine cables and data centres to satellites—with a particular focus on undersea cables, which carry at least 95% of global internet traffic.
In my research, I collaborated with community practitioners working to address digital inequalities on a project called Cosmologies of Internet Infrastructure. This initiative explores our current transitional era, where we’re determining and anticipating the future cosmology of the internet.
The internet is often perceived as neutral, borderless and diplomatic. How does infrastructure reinforce existing imbalances, especially concerning the African continent? How do those digital inequalities manifest?
Often, we think of the current internet ecosystem as something new. But my research shows it actually mirrors the era just after the abolition of slavery. When slavery became unprofitable, free trade took its place. Back then, undersea—well, telegraph—cables were how empires and their colonial leaders communicated with colonies. Maps from the 1730s, found by a collaborator on the project, Elinor Arden, even depict a telegraph cable encircling the African continent. That very route mirrors Meta’s 2Africa consortium undersea cable, now the world’s longest undersea cable.
Map showing historical telegraph path around Africa. So, when we look back at history, infrastructure has always been a tool for resource extraction. Today, it’s not just minerals that are extracted from Africa but also data to build artificial intelligence. We’re entering a phase where infrastructure is being “greenwashed” with talk of greening the internet and technology. But because it remains rooted in a colonial, extractive cosmology, the underlying patterns persist.
And although the internet protocol was meant to be open, shareable and something to build upon, today big tech companies are using those open technologies and closing them up, creating monopolies.
In the African context, policies remain very nation-centred, while big tech companies act from a continental perspective. That mismatch means responses are delayed—and companies like Meta have been able to build the longest cable encircling a continent with very little challenge. Similarly, Google has laid its undersea cable in West Africa, naming it after the abolitionist Olaudah Equiano. This repeats colonial rhetoric and logic, all under the guise of “a borderless, open internet”.
Map showing 2Africa undersea cable around Africa, following the same route as the telegraph paths. How do African cosmologies or other knowledge systems challenge these kinds of dominant imaginaries that you’ve talked about?
Right now, we are in a very important era, which I call the transitory cosmology. We get to determine what our future digital ecosystem looks like, which depends on the infrastructure we invest in and how we build it. Companies that started as social media platforms or search engines evolve into permanent favourites of the internet. This is because they’re investing heavily in infrastructure and artificial intelligence—thanks in part to data collected from the African continent.
In my research, the alternative cosmology centres humanity over technology. Technology is supposed to serve people. There’s a promise that tech will make life easier and better—but in reality, it’s doing the opposite. It’s creating dependency on a system that continues to extract, whether it’s data, minerals to build data centres or undersea cables. Ultimately, we’re losing our autonomy and our choice.
That’s central to putting humanity first—we must have autonomy, choice and dignity. For example, Meta recently announced it will use all public images to train its AI, with no real option to opt out. Our choices are increasingly being encroached upon, and that will affect democracy.
On the other hand, in the African context, I’m seeing a growing counterpush: from building community networks to demanding more openness about how Big Tech has gained control. There’s also increasing advocacy for African autonomy over the platforms and technologies we use. People are also making efforts to hold Big Tech accountable—especially companies that don’t pay taxes. There is real pushback against digital colonialism, but ultimately, it’s about centring humanity and nature.
Do you have any concrete examples of that pushback?
One big example is how the Congolese government has sued Apple for their mineral-extraction supply chain. That’s where we see countries asserting autonomy—saying you cannot ignore the supply chain when building the devices that connect us to the internet. We’re seeing community networks in the Congo and Kenya. But we must remember that even successful community networks still depend on undersea cable networks that carry at least 95 percent of our internet.
One significant shift I’m noticing is toward Cosmo-Ubuntu, which suggests AI can centre humanity instead of humanity being subsumed by AI. This work, by Professor Cossa, considers Cosmo-Ubuntu from an educational perspective. Ubuntu, an African philosophy, says: “I am because you are, and my humanity is because of your humanity.” It centres people.
There’s also the Bakongo Cosmogram—a worldview that life moves through phases—from conception to birth to growth to death in a regenerative cycle. This directly counters capitalist ideals by valuing natural evolution. Meanwhile, big tech prioritises expansion—even at the expense of Indigenous communities they exploit, often treating those lands as sacrifice zones for their ambitions.
Where do you see the role of governments in tackling these kinds of issues and holding these huge multinational companies to account?
That’s where it’s very interesting and that’s why I call undersea cables a hidden system of power. When I started looking at undersea cables in 2022, it was very difficult to find information about them. The companies only announce them after they have completed all the work. They do a lot of activities in secret.
While Meta and Google are literally circumventing the African continent, they are not necessarily landing on the continent—they work with local internet service providers to connect to them. So that means they’re just outside the jurisdiction of these countries, so they don’t pay taxes. And they don’t get to say they are an internet service provider, even though they’re literally carrying tons of data.
We see tech companies entering the continent not from a national perspective but a continental one—and by the time their projects launch, we’re not sure how to respond as a continent. We have the Malabo Convention but it hasn’t been signed by all African countries. It’s enforced in different ways, so there’s no unified response. Ultimately, these companies have used colonial-era policies to build their cables, meaning we must modernise policy at the regional rather than just national level—no single country can handle it alone.
The big tech companies are taking a continental perspective, while at the same time, there are so many different countries within Africa. How can solidarity successfully be built across so many borders within the continent to achieve a more continent-wide movement?
There is already a strong push for sovereignty on the African continent. I think the only missing link is that the impact of undersea cables is not visible. There’s still the myth that the internet is in the cloud, so the hidden system of power that undersea cables and big tech companies have is not necessarily recognised. We know from the Snowden revelations that the U.S. Government tapped directly into undersea cables. And we’re also seeing from a Congress report from last year that the U.S. Government is thinking of having its own transatlantic cable, an undersea cable, around the African continent.
But we don’t necessarily see the urgency, because it’s not a visible harm at this time. We’re seeing a lot of pushback against unethical AI, against unfair labour practices, against the supply chain. But there isn’t a lot of recognition that it’s actually all rooted in undersea cables, which Elinor Arden calls “the empire’s nervous system”. The empire is using undersea cables to fulfil its colonial dreams, both in terms of minerals and data. And that will affect and impact democracy quite significantly in the future, especially with the coming of AI.
You said that while there’s a lot of secrecy around undersea cable projects, and when they’re announced, they’re marketed under very specific names—like 2Africa. Is there also a narrative about bringing technology to the disconnected and connecting people?
Definitely. There’s a lot of sanitisation in these projects. When the first telegraph was created, it was seen as divine providence—to spread civilisation and bring religion to the “dark continent.” The earlier rhetoric was, “This is empty land, we can come and take it.” Now it’s, “You have a huge digital divide, let us bridge it for you.”
But they’re not really doing that, because people still have to pay ISPs to access the advanced technologies being brought to the continent. And they’re killing innovation by investing heavily in their own undersea cables.
It’s critical to be aware of the vulnerabilities that come with undersea cables—how they might affect health, education, and more. When companies like Meta and Google own the infrastructure, we don’t yet know the long-term implications. It’s really a new frontier.
There’s more awareness now but civil society hasn’t fully caught up. I’m also a trainer in internet governance at the Internet Society, where I teach different actors in the digital space about the layers of the internet, how they intersect, and what that means for society and geopolitics. This is often new information even to people already active in the digital space. The connections between colonialism, undersea cables and the structure of our digital ecosystem are not always visible to the majority.
When it comes to digital resistance, your work focuses a lot on imagination and artistic approaches. Why is that central to your work and how does that format help to support what you’re doing?
I see it this way: we are living inside the imagination of Western colonial powers from the 1700s. They imagined conquering continents, extracting resources and building empires and industries—and they made it happen. We still see many images and artworks from that time reflecting their vision. There is already an alternative imagination but it hasn’t yet gone mainstream. The resistance remains on the margins because there is little funding or support for those with a different vision.
Another collaborator on the Cosmology of Internet Infrastructure project, Emsie Erastus, focused on future visions of the internet. The goal is living with respect for each other and for nature, opposing the extractive growth that comes at others’ expense.
Big Tech envisions long-term goals like transhumanism, aiming to build artificial general intelligence (AGI) as humanity’s descendants. That drives huge investment in AI, but also creates climate damage—data centres use massive amounts of electricity and water, satellites fall daily, and the impact of undersea cables on seabeds is barely studied. Their imagination is built on extraction, while ours focuses on preserving humanity, nature and sacred spaces.
We need to realise that another way is possible—ultimately, it’s about having a choice in the life we want to lead, even in a digital society.
If you could redesign the internet, what would that look like? What would need to change for that to be possible? What would be most important?
My work focuses on liberation. The technology we use should not be built on the blood of children. It should not fuel wars that only enrich oppressors. I’m looking at ethical technology. I believe we already have the technology to build a healthy society that can communicate without being extractive.
How can we ensure a green digital future?
Growing e-waste, carbon emissions from AI, data centre water usage—is rampant digitalisation compatible with a healthy planet? Our latest project explores how digital tools and services can be developed with sustainability in mind.
For me, it’s about stopping the glamourisation of technology made from blood minerals—which is most technology—and always asking for details of the supply chain. Another collaborator, Raymundo Vásquez Ruiz, a computer engineer, shared information about the greenwashing of internet infrastructure for profit. We need to be informed about these systems and who owns them. There’s a lot of investment going into these infrastructures today. We’re seeing people try to raise $500 billion for Stargate to travel to Mars. If we buy into that rhetoric, we’re basically giving permission to create sacrifice zones and continue the bloodbath.
So for me, it’s about changing the supply chain. We already have the technology to live successful lives today. We just need to rethink how we see each other, the world, how we work and how we relate to people and nature. This is a digital society where internet infrastructure is a public good—an egalitarian world where there is neither oppressor nor oppressed.
