Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference (Handbooks in Philosophy) 3030148343, 9783030148348

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Handbooks in Philosophy

Elvis Imafidon  Editor

Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference

Handbooks in Philosophy

The Handbooks in Philosophy series is a comprehensive, wide-ranging multivolume research collection with contributions from experts in all areas of philosophy. It offers up-to-date scholarly summaries and sources of information on the major subject areas and issues of philosophy. Each handbook examines its particular subject area in depth, providing timely, accessible coverage of its full scale and scope, discusses substantive contributions for deeper understanding, and provides reliable guidance on the direction of future developments. The series covers topics within a wide spectrum of areas in philosophy and will focus particularly on newly emerging research fields. Each volume provides a state-of-the-art treatment of its respective area. The series will quickly prove useful to a broad audience including graduate students, senior undergraduates, and scholars across a range of disciplines. This handbook: • Offers collections of emerging topics that discuss cutting-edge research and ensure comprehensive and timely coverage of ever-expanding disciplines • Written by distinguished specialists from multiple disciplines and can be easily updated creating a dynamic overview on the topic • Is useful reading for researchers and students in all branches of philosophy More information about this series at http://www.springer.com/series/16090

Elvis Imafidon Editor

Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference With 6 Figures and 1 Table

Editor Elvis Imafidon Department of Philosophy, Faculty of Arts Ambrose Alli University Ekpoma, Nigeria

ISSN 2524-4361 ISSN 2524-437X (electronic) ISBN 978-3-030-14834-8 ISBN 978-3-030-14835-5 (eBook) ISBN 978-3-030-14836-2 (print and electronic bundle) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5 © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are reserved by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors, and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. This Springer imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG. The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland

Preface

The Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference is the first attempt to provide a comprehensive and novel discourse of an underexplored area of African Philosophy: African philosophy of difference. The rationale and motivation for this book is that the understanding of difference and the other and the conceptualization of alterity in African thought and the other’s understanding of Africa’s difference significantly determine many of the lived experiences of Africans in Africa and in the Diaspora. The othering in African societies of disabled and queer beings from human beings and of the male folk from the female folk; the xenophobic and xenophilic feeling for the other in African places; the othering of the self from the other based on ethnic, political, and religious differences; the othering of the other based on economic status and class; the manner of differentiation of the environment and animals from human persons; and the notorious history of the racial othering of Africans by non-Africans and vice versa are clear manifestations of the experiences of difference in African places. The results of such othering have been violence, inequality, preferential treatment, discrimination, and injustices as seen, for instance, in the Rwandan genocide, the Boko Haram saga, the South African xenophobia experience, the persistent discrimination against and killings of persons with albinism, the sexist treatment of women, and the continually unfolding racism against blacks in the Diaspora. This volume therefore has as its primary objectives the philosophical analysis of these forms of difference that permeate the lived experiences of Africans and African accounts and theories of difference and alterity The Handbook has five parts. The chapters in the first part provide the blueprint for the primary concerns of African philosophy of difference as a new area of inquiry in African philosophy. They also provide analysis of African understanding of, and accounts of, difference. The chapters in the second part focus on the protracted issue of racism as it relates to conceptions of Africa’s difference. They provide thoughtprovoking insights on the white–black dichotomy and the violent, radical, and subtle forms of othering that has emerged therein. The chapters in the third part examine some specific and important issues of difference and alterity expressed in, and deducible from, the lived experiences and thought systems of Africans in Africa and the Diaspora. Such issues include epistemological, aesthetic, ontological, and linguistic issues. The chapters in the fourth part examine deeply entrenched beliefs and worldviews that are responsible for specific forms of othering in African places v

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such as the othering of persons with disability, the non-human other, and women. The chapters in the last part focus on the philosophical puzzles that arise from key forms of othering that has become notable in specific African places such as the xenophobia issue in South Africa, the land distribution issue in Zimbabwe, and the Skolombos challenge in Calabar in Nigeria. The critical and rigorous analysis provided in these chapters and parts of the Handbook provide a novel and original insight into issues of alterity, difference, and othering in African philosophy and African studies. The Handbook is therefore an important addition to alterity studies and shows the importance of place and context in such studies. My sincere gratitude goes to a number of persons who have been instrumental to the completion of this Handbook, a project which began in mid-2017. The idea for bringing this Handbook together was conceived during my Fellowship at the Johannesburg Institute for Advanced Study (JIAS), Johannesburg, in a discussion with a mentor and a friend, Professor Thaddeus Metz, while having drinks at Lucky Bean Restaurant on 7th Street of Melville. I am truly thankful to Thad for always inspiring me and to JIAS for providing a conducive space for thought and research. I can hardly put in words my sincere gratitude to the contributors of the chapters of this Handbook. They were patient, kind, thorough, and collegial these last 2 years we worked together. Their insights and contributions made this Handbook possible. A few friends I hold dear have been there in good and difficult times, providing succour, support, and encouragement. They include Dr. Bjŏrn Freter, Dr. Franklin Yvette, and Dr. Dinah Laubisch. I am also thankful to the editorial team at Springer who worked tirelessly to ensure this project was successfully completed. I am also indebted to my loved ones, my brothers and sisters, and my late mum and dad for all their love and care. I am most grateful to my wife Sandra, my daughters, Evelyn, Ellen, and Emilia, and my son, Elliott. They have been my pillar of support and they give me the needed strength. I thank all those whose ideas and comments were helpful in igniting this project. Ekpoma, Nigeria January 2020

Elvis Imafidon

Contents

.......

1

Conceptualizing Difference in African Spaces . . . . . . . . . . . .

13

2

Exploring African Philosophy of Difference . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Elvis Imafidon

15

3

African Communitarianism and Difference . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Thaddeus Metz

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1

Africa and the Unfolding of Difference: An Introduction Elvis Imafidon

Part I

Part II 4

Whites, Blacks, Racism, and Difference . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

53

White’s Anti-black Racism and the Attitude of Tolerating Racial Differences . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Polycarp Ikuenobe

55

5

The Burden of Being a Black Philosopher in a White World Joseph Osei

....

71

6

Decolonization of the West, Desuperiorization of Thought, and Elative Ethics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Björn Freter

105

V.Y. Mudimbe’s Archaeological Reading of Africa’s Difference in Cultural History . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Asma Agzenay

129

7

8

Toward a Postcolonial Universal Ontology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Josias Tembo and Schalk Gerber

149

9

Alterity, African Modernity, and the Critique of Change Elvis Imafidon

.......

171 vii

viii

Contents

Part III Ontological, Epistemological, Ethical, Linguistic, and Aesthetic Issues . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10

Enriching the Knowledge of the Other Through an Epistemology of Intercourse . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Isaac E. Ukpokolo

191

193

11

African Arts and Difference . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Matthew A. Izibili

205

12

Difference in African Educational Contexts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Yvette Freter

217

13

Intrinsic Versus Earned Worth in African Conception of Personhood . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Elvis Imafidon

14

Justice and the Othered Minority . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Anselm Kole Jimoh

15

To Be Is Not to Be Alone: Interrogating Exclusivism from an African Context . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Victor C. A. Nweke and L. Uchenna Ogbonnaya

16

Suffering and the Encounter of the Other in African Spaces . . . . . Austine E. Iyare

17

Pragmatics and Difference in the Social Othering of African Colonial Experience . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jack A. Aigbodioh and Kenneth U. Abudu

18

Language and Othering in African Contexts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Kenneth U. Abudu

Part IV 19

Disability, Gender, and Nonhuman Othering

..........

The Animal Other in Thaddeus Metz’s Modal Ubuntu Ethics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Filip Maj

239 255

273 289

301 317

331

333

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Personhood . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mpho Tshivhase

21

Some Epistemological Issues in the Othering of Persons with Albinism in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Elvis Imafidon

361

The Othering of Persons with Severe Cognitive Disabilities in Alexis Kagame’s Conceptualization of Personhood . . . . . . . . . . . . Nompumelelo Zinhle Manzini

379

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Contents

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Epistemic Injustice, Disability, and Queerness in African Cultures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Kenneth U. Abudu and Elvis Imafidon

Part V Difference and the Experience of the Other in Specific African Spaces . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24

The Stranger, Othering, and the Epistemology of Difference in African Space . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Peter Aloysius Ikhane

25

Othering, Re-othering, and De-othering . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Jonathan O. Chimakonam

26

The (Post-)colonial South African Present and the Meaning of Trauma for the Future . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A. B. (Benda) Hofmeyr

393

411

413 433

449

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Class Identity, Xenophobia, and Xenophilia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Melissa Tandiwe Myambo

465

28

Seeing the Other in South Africa as a Promise Lindsay Kelland

...............

489

29

Moral Good, the Self, and the M/other . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Rob Baum

511

30

Creating the Other in the Context of Land Redistributions . . . . . . Erasmus Masitera

525

Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

545

About the Editor

Dr. Elvis Imafidon teaches in the Department of Philosophy, Ambrose Alli University, Nigeria. He is a 2017 Writing Fellow of the Johannesburg Institute of Advanced Study (JIAS), University of Johannesburg, South Africa. His research centers on African ontology and ethics. Dr. Elvis is concerned with the extent to which African concepts of reality affect the African idea of the good and the implications of African ontology for concepts such as corruption, otherness, disability, difference, personhood, and gender. In the past few years, he has been specifically concerned with the implications of African ontology for albinism as an other in Africa, focusing on inherent ontological, epistemological, and moral theories. This has resulted in the publication of the book titled African Philosophy and the Otherness of Albinism: White Skin, Black Race (Routledge 2018). He is the editor of Ontologized Ethics: New Essays in African Meta-ethics (Lexington Books, 2013) and The Ethics of Subjectivity: Perspectives Since the Dawn of Modernity (Palgrave Macmillan, 2015) and the author of The Question of the Rationality of African Traditional Thought: An Introduction (CreateSpace 2013).

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Contributors

Kenneth U. Abudu Department of Philosophy, Faculty of Arts, Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma, Nigeria Asma Agzenay Department of English, Ibn Zohr University, Agadir, Morocco Jack A. Aigbodioh Department of Philosophy, Faculty of Arts, Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma, Nigeria Rob Baum Primary Healthcare Directorate, University of Cape Town, Cape Town, South Africa Psychology, John F. Kennedy University, Pleasant Hill, CA, USA University of Haifa, Haifa, Israel Jonathan O. Chimakonam Department of Philosophy, University of Pretoria, Pretoria, South Africa Björn Freter Knoxville, USA Yvette Freter Theory and Practice in Teacher Education, University of Tennessee, Knoxville, TN, USA Schalk Gerber Stellenbosch University, Department of Philosophy, Stellenbosch, South Africa A. B. (Benda) Hofmeyr School of the Arts, University of Pretoria, Pretoria, South Africa Peter Aloysius Ikhane Department of Philosophy, Faculty of Arts, University of Ibadan, Ibadan, Nigeria Polycarp Ikuenobe Department of Philosophy, Kent State University, Kent, OH, USA Elvis Imafidon Department of Philosophy, Faculty of Arts, Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma, Nigeria Austine E. Iyare Department of Philosophy, Faculty of Arts, Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma, Nigeria xiii

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Contributors

Matthew A. Izibili Department of Philosophy, Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma, Nigeria Anselm Kole Jimoh Department of Philosophy, SS. Peter and Paul Major Seminary, Ibadan, Nigeria Lindsay Kelland Allan Gray Centre for Leadership Ethics, Department of Philosophy, Rhodes University, Grahamstown, South Africa Filip Maj Department of Philosophy, University of Fort Hare, Eastern Cape, South Africa Nompumelelo Zinhle Manzini Department of Philosophy, Pennsylvania State University, State College, PA, USA Erasmus Masitera Department of Philosophy, University of Johannesburg, Johannesburg, South Africa Department of Philosophy and Religious Studies, Great Zimbabwe University, Masvingo, Zimbabwe Thaddeus Metz Department of Philosophy, University of Johannesburg, Auckland Park, South Africa Melissa Tandiwe Myambo Centre for Indian Studies in Africa, Wits City Institute, Wits University, Johannesburg, South Africa Victor C. A. Nweke Institute of Cultural Studies, University of Koblenz-Landau, Koblenz, Germany L. Uchenna Ogbonnaya The Conversational School of Philosophy (CSP), University of Calabar, Calabar, Nigeria Joseph Osei Fayetteville State University, Fayetteville, NC, USA Josias Tembo Department of Philosophy, University of Pretoria, Pretoria, South Africa Radboud University, Centre for Contemporary European Philosophy, Nijmegen, The Netherlands Mpho Tshivhase Department of Philosophy, University of Pretoria, Pretoria, South Africa Isaac E. Ukpokolo Department of Philosophy, University of Ibadan, Ibadan, Nigeria

1

Africa and the Unfolding of Difference: An Introduction Elvis Imafidon

Contents Conceptualizing Difference in African Thought . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 Whites, Blacks, and Difference . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4 Other Key Issues . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6 Disability, Gender, and the Non-human Other . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 Difference in Specific African Places . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11

Abstract

This chapter provides introductory comments or preliminary remarks to the Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference. It begins by defending the claim that difference stands under as the foundation of the unfolding of African philosophy as an academic discipline and the unfolding of many lived experiences in African spaces both in Africa and in the Diaspora. Hence, African philosophy of difference is a critical reflection on the place of difference in the African experience. The chapters in this handbook thus explore various and specific aspects of such lived experiences and the roles difference or alterity play in their unfolding. The handbook is thus divided into five parts with each part exploring key aspects of the importance of difference in the understanding of the African experience. The first part provides conceptualizations of difference in African thought. The second part explores various aspects and provides critical comments on the question of racism, particularly the institutionalized racial discrimination by whites against blacks due to racial differences. The third part examines some key issues emerging from the role difference plays in the unfolding of African experiences such as epistemological issues, the language issue, the role of art in the institutionalization of difference, and moral issues. The fourth part explores the important roles that difference plays in E. Imafidon (*) Department of Philosophy, Faculty of Arts, Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma, Nigeria e-mail: elvismafi@yahoo.com; elvis.imafi[email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_26

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questions of disability, gender, and the non-human other. The last part examines how difference plays key roles in the unfolding of lived experiences in specific African places such as the experience of xenophobia in South Africa; the Skolombos in Calabar, Nigeria; and the land distribution question in Zimbabwe. The chapter concludes that this handbook is an important contribution to alterity discourse in African philosophy not because it exhausts the issues involved but because it provides a robust discussion that would provoke further reflections and discussions. Keywords

Africa · Difference · Alterity · Disability · Xenophobia

. . . African philosophy itself can become self-aware through the uncovering of its own tradition seen in the analysis of the Other. . . African philosophy has it within itself to critically appraise the Other as well as itself, and in so doing can contribute something unique to world philosophy while coming to self-understanding. (Bruce Janz 1997: 235)

Alterity or the understanding or theory of difference of the self from the other was and continues to remain important for the unfolding of African philosophy in the twentieth century. The claims of radical difference of Western philosophy from African philosophy by actors on both sides kept and continue to keep the fire of discourses and debates in and about African philosophy burning. For instance, the claims of denial of the other’s (African) philosophy as non-philosophy when compared with that of the self, Western philosophy, were a claim of difference that superiorizes the self over the other. Similarly, the assertions of the other in reaction to the claims of the self were assertions colored and saturated with difference. The African philosophy other even when relying on Western linguistic schemes continues to show that her philosophical ideas and thoughts are radically or subtly unique and different from those of its Western counterpart. Beyond this intercourse between African philosophy and Western philosophy founded on difference, philosophical explorations of key aspects of the African experience and key issues emanating therein also show clearly that difference ensuing from the confrontation of the self with the other is vital for the understanding of these issues. We may never be able to understand and provide robust philosophical analyses of aspects of Africa’s lived experiences such as racism, white privilege, disability, gender, religious crisis, ethnic crisis, environmental and animal rights, arts and aesthetics, and forms of othering emanating from specific African places (such as the xenophobic experience in South Africa) without paying close attention to African accounts and understanding of difference. Thus, difference stands under a manifold of experiences in African traditional and modern societies. The othering in African traditional and modern societies of disabled and queer beings from human beings and of the male folk from the female folk and the xenophobic and xenophilic feelings for the foreign other in traditional and modern Africa spaces; the othering of the self from the other based on ethnic, political, and religious differences; the othering of the other based on economic status and class; and the notorious history

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Africa and the Unfolding of Difference: An Introduction

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of the racial othering of Africans by non-Africans and vice versa are clear manifestations of the experience of, and importance of, difference in African societies. Such understandings of difference in African places have been vital for ordering society into classes and have provided explanations for some forms of violence, inequality, discrimination, and injustices as seen, for instance, in the Rwandan genocide, the Boko Haram saga, the South African xenophobia experience, the persistent discrimination against and killings of persons with albinism, the sexist treatment of women, and the continually unfolding racism against blacks in the African diaspora. If difference is such an important concept for understanding the unfolding of African philosophy and African experiences and thoughts, it is therefore important to pay attention to the African experience of, and accounts of, difference. This handbook, the Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, therefore explores and provides thought-provoking essays on an important but yet underexplored aspect of African philosophy, the African philosophy of difference. What is the African account of difference and what would an African philosophy of difference consist of? What is the place of the other or the different in a primarily communalistic African society, or does African communalism provide room for the other? What is the understanding of the difference between whites and blacks in the history of thought, and what are the implications of such understanding particularly in terms of such effects as racism, colonialism, white privilege, Eurocentrism, and Afrocentrism? What key philosophical theories and issues can be deduced from African accounts of, and experience of, difference? What understanding does African thought provide about the otherness of persons with disability and non-human beings in African societies? What is the understanding and experience of gender difference in African societies? What forms of alterity and difference are experienced in specific African places such as South Africa, Nigeria, and Zimbabwe? More specifically, who is a stranger in an African community? These questions and more are carefully explored in the chapters of this handbook, providing interesting insights and opening avenues for further discussions and research. In this introductory chapter, I will summarize how the 29 chapters of this handbook examine issues of difference and otherness in African contexts and how they provide answers to such questions raised above. Each of the chapter in this handbook falls under a key theme in the discourse of difference in African contexts. The key themes examined in this handbook form its five parts. I will therefore present the chapter summaries under the key themes of the handbook, showing how the chapters under each theme deal with interconnected question and issues of difference.

Conceptualizing Difference in African Thought What is the meaning of difference and related concepts such as alterity and otherness? In what ways is difference a residue of the self-contained identities of the self and the other? What are African accounts of difference? What does the African philosophy of difference entail as a new field of inquiry in African philosophy?

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Is African communitarianism hostile to concepts of, and forms of, difference? ▶ Chaps. 2, “Exploring African Philosophy of Difference” by Elvis Imafidon and ▶ 3, “African Communitarianism and Difference” by Thaddeus Metz in the first part of this handbook with the theme, “Conceptualizing Difference in African Spaces,” provide thought-provoking answers to these and related questions. In ▶ Chap. 2, “Exploring African Philosophy of Difference,” I begin by conceptualizing difference and related concepts of alterity and otherness on three interrelated levels – ontic, ontological, and transcendental levels – in line with Francois Laruelle’s conception of difference (Laurelle 2010). I then explore two levels of the African ontic accounts of difference – the intra-community level and the intercommunity level – within the African communitarian structure. I then proceed to present the nature and primary tasks of African philosophy of difference, as I theorize it, “African philosophy of difference consists of a ‘rational and critical inquiry of the metaphysical assumptions, the epistemological frameworks and the axiological/moral issues arising from the manifold of the ontic experiences and accounts of difference on the African continent. African philosophy of difference is not intended to gather more facts or collect more empirical data on the everyday experience of difference in African societies. Rather it is saddled with the crucial responsibility of theorising and raising fundamental questions about how these many varieties of observable differences come to be in the first place, how they can be interpreted and how the knowledge of such differences are acquired and justified within African thought systems. It is also concerned with unravelling the moral issues that arise from the African experience of, and accounts of, difference.’ This chapter therefore provides the blueprint for the unfolding of the various objectives of the other chapters as far as the discourse of African philosophy of difference is concerned. In ▶ Chap. 3, “African Communitarianism and Difference,” Thaddeus Metz provides an interesting and thought-provoking discourse of the difference between togetherness, solidarity, and the spirit of Ubuntu cherished in African communitarian societies and sameness. This chapter explains why it is not logical to equate togetherness with sameness. It shows that as characteristically communitarian as African thought is, it does not occlude difference but rather provides sufficient support and respect for it. He buttresses this line of thought by showing that heteronormative expectations in terms of gender relations although a communal goal in an African community are not necessarily hostile to alternative forms of sexual relations such as homosexuality as such difference do find basis for legitimacy within the community of selves.

Whites, Blacks, and Difference In the history of thought, only a very few things, it seems to me, best exemplify the understanding of alterity as the state of the other being radically different from the conscious self or the radical polarity of the self and the other than racial difference in general and the whites-blacks difference in particular. In the words of John G. Russell:

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Africa and the Unfolding of Difference: An Introduction

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As a source of identity and component of selfhood, concepts of “race” and their manipulation through stereotyped representation exert a powerful influence on construction of Self and Other, national identity, the nature of interpersonal experience in cross-cultural contexts, and how those experiences are verbalised, visualised, interpreted and translated into various kinds of social performance. (2012: 42)

A stereotypic representation of a particular race in the words of Homi Bhabha: . . . is not the setting up of a false image which becomes the scapegoat of discriminatory practices. It is a much more ambivalent text of projection and introjections, metaphoric and metonymic strategies, displacement, overdetermination, guilt, aggressivity, the masking and splitting of “official” and phantasmatic knowledge to construct the positionalities and oppositionalities of racist discourse. (Russell 2012: 41)

The history of thought is saturated with mainly Western-formulated, detailed, comprehensive, and often notorious theories of the white-self compared with the black-other, leading to intense, protracted debates on such issues as white supremacy and white privilege, anti-black racism and anti-white racism, Eurocentrism and Afrocentrism, the encounter of races such as the African encounter of the West, attitudes toward racism, and coping with differences emanating from cross-cultural contacts. The chapters in the second part of this handbook explore several of these issues. In ▶ Chap. 4, “White’s Anti-black Racism and the Attitude of Tolerating Racial Differences,” Polycarp Ikuenobe provides an interesting criticism of the dominant understanding of tolerance as a moral virtue on the basis that such characterization of tolerance as a good moral quality or behavior immediately becomes questionable and even fails in the context of persons of a particular race tolerating those of other races, such as whites tolerating blacks. This is because, according to him, such an attitude of the tolerator does not get rid of the claim by the tolerator of having a superior race than the tolerated. The tolerator is thus simply a tolerant racist, but she is certainly still a racist. In ▶ Chap. 5, “The Burden of Being a Black Philosopher in a White World,” Joseph Osei brings a novel and important analysis of the dominant responses to anti-black racism. He examines and exposes the flaws and limitations in such responses as the African-American philosophers response, the Wiredu’s response, the Appiah’s response, the Afrocentric response, the Preshey’s response, and the stolen legacy response. He then provides and vehemently defends a better response than these, the black hypothesis. What makes his chapter an enticing read is his claim that the black hypothesis response is one that challenges the key tenets of Eurocentrism or claims of white supremacy while not falling into the trap of Afrocentrism, the glorification of, and nostalgia about, the African past. ▶ Chap. 6, “Decolonization of the West, Desuperiorization of Thought, and Elative Ethics” is a laudable attempt and a novel insight by Björn Freter into the failure of the West to successfully decolonize its thought. According to Freter, decolonization has two key focal points: overcoming endured and perpetuated violence by the colonized and oppressed and the understanding of the nature and extent of violence unleashed on the colonized by the colonizers. While colonized Africa is making progress regarding the first focal point, the colonizing West has often failed in

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meeting the second focal point. Rather, the West continue to defend its colonizing tendency through deliberate and nondeliberate attempts to sustain the claim of white supremacy. Freter thus advocates for the decolonization of Western thought through elective ethics. One of the most significant presentations of the nature of Africa’s difference and the othering of Africa in European thought specifically at the beginning of modern thought to the twentieth century is to be found in the thought-provoking work of the Congolese philosopher Valentin-Yves Mudimbe, The Invention of Africa (1988). In ▶ Chap. 7, “V.Y. Mudimbe’s Archaeological Reading of Africa’s Difference in Cultural History,” Asma Agzenay takes a close look at this work. She examines issues of methodology and raises questions about Mudimbe’s sources in reaching the conclusions he reaches about Africa’s difference. In particular, she is concerned with the extent to which Mudimbe’s reliance on Michel Foucault understanding of the other in Foucault’s The Other of Things (1970) affected his work negatively. In ▶ Chap. 8, “Toward a Postcolonial Universal Ontology,” Josias Tembo and Schalk Gerber take a close and critical look at the works of yet another important figure in the discourse of African identity and difference, Achille Mbembe. Understanding that the othering of the African subject by the Western subject has been a violent form of othering in human history and that the same form of violent othering is being perpetuated in the postcolonial even by the African self toward the Western other, Tembo and Gerber are primarily concerned in this chapter to explore how a nonviolent form of othering could be achieved by looking closely at two key works of Mbembe: On the Postcolony (2001) and Critique of Black Reason (2013). The authors show that while Mbembe is largely silent on how a non-violent form of othering of the self from the other can be achieved in the first work, he pays some attention to this task in the second work, one that the authors explore and evaluate. In ▶ Chap. 9, “Alterity, African Modernity, and the Critique of Change,” I examine alterity as an underexplored approach to understanding the literature of African modernity. Here I am concerned with the bulk of literature dealing with African modern experience as resulting from Africa’s mostly forced contact with the West. This forced clash of cultures, value systems, and modes of thought has been largely criticized as the foundation of Africa’s predicament in modern times in all its forms. While noting the legitimacy for making such a claim, I show further that the fundamental cause of the changes in modern Africa is the West Africa alterity, that is, the radical difference in the consciousness, values, and beliefs of the West from that of Africa, an alterity that made the changes that came with the contact of the West with Africa difficult to grasp and take in by the African conscious self.

Other Key Issues The third part examines some important issues of difference and alterity expressed in, and deducible from, the lived experiences and thought systems of Africans within and outside the African continent, particularly in comparison with the Western other’s lived experiences and thought systems. Is a dichotomy between the knowing

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subject and the object to be known encouraged or frowned at in African thought when compared to the rich tradition of the subject-object dichotomy in Western thought? What role does art play in the separation of the self from the other in African societies? How have African formal education systems, being a tool of the West, further the perpetuation of the violent othering of the African subject by the West? What forms of alterity does the African person face in her community of selves? What form of injustice do minority groups face due to their difference and the consequent othering? How does language aid difference in African contexts? In what ways is the other in an African community of selves the cause of, or recipient of, suffering? The chapters in the third part of this handbook explore these and related questions. In ▶ Chap. 10, “Enriching the Knowledge of the Other Through an Epistemology of Intercourse,” Isaac Ukpokolo discusses what he terms an epistemology of intercourse between the subject and object of knowledge in African cultures. As he explains, the traditional subject-object dichotomy in Western epistemology and science is not noticeable in African modes of knowing because in the African thought system, for the subject to know the object, the gap between them must be bridged, and they must engage in an intercourse as the subject is never really separated from the object. In ▶ Chap. 11, “African Arts and Difference,” Matthew A. Izibili examines the role art has played and continues to play in the separation of the self from the other. Matthew Izibili provides an interesting analysis of how social classes in African societies were sustained and made visible through artistic signs and symbols. He argues, for instance, that those of the royal class could easily be known as different from the common people in the society through modes of dressing, tribal marks, and other artistic signs and symbols. In ▶ Chap. 12, “Difference in African Educational Contexts,” Yvette P. Franklin provides an interesting insight on how the Western-oriented formal education systems in Africa continue to be a Western force of colonization and the violent othering and disregard for the Western other. She explores the hopeful gaze philosophy as a way of undoing this wrong and offering a form of difference that is respectful and inclusive of the other and pluralistic. In ▶ Chap. 13, “Intrinsic Versus Earned Worth in African Conception of Personhood,” I examine two categories of persons in a dominant African conception of personhood: persons with intrinsic worth or value and persons with earned worth or value. While the former need not strive to earn such worth and enjoy the rights and privileges that come with it, as the community confers it on them by virtue of their being, the latter are different and othered and would have to work tirelessly to earn the same sort of worth or value. I exemplify the latter category with persons with albinism who have to strive hard to earn the worth and vale that melaninprivileged Africans need not strive hard to earn, black women in African societies and black people in the diaspora. Minority groups in human societies including African societies are often residues of the major groups that are dominant in such societies. Such minority groups as the other are often seen as some form of threat to the one or major group in the society. Hence, the minority groups face many confrontations that are sometimes hostile and violent, from the major group(s), leading to forms of injustice for the minority.

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Anselm Kole Jimoh examines in ▶ Chap. 14, “Justice and the Othered Minority” the injustice that minority groups face in African communalistic societies where all are expected to be part of the one major group. He advocates for the sort of communitarianism that is flexible enough to accept the perspectives of others even when they are in the minority. In ▶ Chap. 15, “To Be Is Not to Be Alone: Interrogating Exclusivism from an African Context,” Victor Nweke and Uchenna Ogbonnaya provide a critique of any claim to an independent and self-contained self that has no need for the other, using the social ontological theory of “to be is not to be alone.” It sketches out a complementary ontology that prevents exclusivity and promotes a healthy relationship between the self and the other. In ▶ Chap. 16, “Suffering and the Encounter of the Other in African Spaces” Augustine Iyare provides an interesting analysis of the other’s encounter and experience of suffering in a community of selves. He shows that suffering is part of the being of the other. The other suffers more than the self in an African community and may even become the one who take the blame when the self suffers in such a community. He buttresses this using the xenophobic and Boko Haram experiences in South Africa and Nigeria, respectively. He then explores the importance of the self understanding the other in terms of hospitality rather than of suffering. ▶ Chaps. 17, “Pragmatics and Difference in the Social Othering of African Colonial Experience” and ▶ 18, “Language and Othering in African Contexts” focus on the role that language plays in othering. In ▶ Chap. 17, “Pragmatics and Difference in the Social Othering of African Colonial Experience,” Jack Aigbodioh and Kenneth Abudu provide a novel insight on how the social pragmatics of linguistic terms used by the colonizer to describe the colonized in the colonial experience was key to establishing the African other as different and inferior to the Western self. Abudu further shows in ▶ Chap. 18, “Language and Othering in African Contexts” how language continues to be central in understanding, while people who speak the same language find it easy to bond even when they are in a strange land but find it difficult to relate well when they speak different languages.

Disability, Gender, and the Non-human Other The fourth part has as its focus the examination of the metaphysical, epistemological, ethical, and logical foundations of, and issues involved in, the understanding of the difference of, and consequent othering of, three specific forms of beings (human and non-human) in the African ontology – persons with disabilities, both bodily and mental, women, and animals. Thus, the chapters in this part of the handbook engage with the African understanding of these beings as forms of difference and then questions the theories that support such understanding. ▶ Chap. 19, “The Animal Other in Thaddeus Metz’s Modal Ubuntu Ethics” begins the part with an insightful analysis of the animal other provided by Filip Maj. Maj is concerned with an analysis of Thaddeus Metz’s perspectives of the moral status of, and moral obligations toward, animals in an African context grounded on communal relationships. She argues extensively why Metz positions are anthropocentric and lead to double

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standards between animals and humans. In ▶ Chap. 20, “Personhood,”, Mpho Tshivhase provides an interesting analysis of the implication of certain theories of personhood and moral status for women. In her understanding, the idea of personhood that people hold grounds the moral status they attribute to different sorts of beings. Descriptive conceptions of personhood that prioritizes rationality and free will may easily form the basis for the othering of women as individuals lacking moral status due to their lack for some reason of such free will or rationality at a given point in time. Albinism is a form of disability, and persons with albinism in African community are viewed as a different kind of being, an other and queer being. There are numerous knowledge claims about the being of persons with albinism, knowledge claims that have misrepresented the actual nature of their disability and have resulted in the harm done to such persons in African communities including murder and commodification of their body parts. In ▶ Chap. 21, “Some Epistemological Issues in the Othering of Persons with Albinism in Africa,” I raise some key epistemological questions that arise from the knowledge claims made about albinism and persons with albinism in African thought. I focus specifically on the problem associated with an elitist virtue epistemology that is observable from African knowledge and cognitive processes as well as the role ignorance plays in the knowledge production and transfer system. In ▶ Chap. 22, “The Othering of Persons with Severe Cognitive Disabilities in Alexis Kagame’s Conceptualization of Personhood,” Nompumelelo Zinhle Manzini exposes the major flaw in a prominent theory of personhood in African philosophy, Alexis Kagame shadow thesis, with particular reference to persons with severe cognitive disabilities. Kagame’s theory holds that personhood is dependent on intelligence and the ability to put reason to good use. As Zinhle argues, such an account of personhood is not only ableist but also negatively others persons with severe cognitive disabilities from the status of personhood. In ▶ Chap. 23, “Epistemic Injustice, Disability, and Queerness in African Cultures,” Kenneth Abudu and I further the discussion of forms of disability in African cultures by an analysis of the alterity that results from epistemic injustice for persons with disabilities. We argue that the misrepresentation and misunderstanding of forms of disability in African societies sustained through an authoritarian epistemic structure lead to epistemic injustice that contributes greatly to the discrimination against persons with disabilities in African societies. Until the ignorance, myth and superstitious beliefs about disability in African cultures are overcome, the discrimination against person with disabilities would continue to flourish.

Difference in Specific African Places A bulk of the lived experiences of Africans today in their communities, as a foreigner in another African community or in the diaspora, can only be understood through an analysis of forms of difference such as class difference, ethnic difference, and racial difference. In specific African communities, such differences are even more obvious and may provide basis for understanding everyday struggles and challenges. The

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chapters in the fifth part of this handbook explore various aspects of such difference in specific African communities and cities. Peter Aloysius Ikhane begins the part in ▶ Chap. 24, “The Stranger, Othering, and the Epistemology of Difference in African Space” with a captivating analysis of the stranger in an African place. He conceptualizes the stranger along the line of Georg Simmel’s notion in his essay “The Stranger” (1950). He shows that the stranger in an African place is so differentiated from a community of selves for her lack of the quality of belonging that the self has. In ▶ Chap. 25, “Othering, Re-othering, and De-othering,” Jonathan O. Chimakonam presents an interesting analysis of the dialectic relations of othering, re-othering, and de-othering with particular reference to the tensions between the alleged legitimate residents of Calabar in Nigeria (the self) and the Skolombos or homeless residents in the same city (the other). This proves to be a very interesting read as he shows how the othered homeless are fighting back against the construction of their identity by the legitimate residents and how de-othering may be the best route to take to ease the tension between the self and the other. The lived experiences of South Africans are mostly shaped by forms of difference. Their encounter with the West, the ensuing apartheid of difference, struggle for freedom, and rebuilding of self-identity have been some of the most difficult times in South Africa’s history. Some of the best analysis of the experience of the resulting alterity and difference in today’s South Africa are provided in four of the chapters in this part. In ▶ Chap. 26, “The (Post-)colonial South African Present and the Meaning of Trauma for the Future,” Benda Hofmeyr], Benda Hofmeyr provides a genealogical, psychoanalytic, and thought-provoking analysis of the question of identity in South Africa’s postcolonial present. She engages the question of trauma and conscious forgetfulness drawing rich resources from Freud, Lacan, and Foucault and provides basis for identity construction and subject formation in postcolonial, post-apartheid South Africa. In ▶ Chap. 27, “Class Identity, Xenophobia, and Xenophilia,” Melissa T. Myambo provides a captivating insight into the recent experiences of xenophobia and xenophilia by the migrant other in South Africa. Her goal is to show that these experiences are closely linked to the radically different cultural time zones in South African cities where language, skin color, race, and education play key roles in defining migrant experiences. The striking point that Myambo makes is that while working-class migrants face xenophobic experiences in economically deprived cultural time zones, middle-class and business class professionals mostly from the West enjoy xenophilia in economically buoyant cultural time zones. Lindsay Kelland critically examines a dominant understanding of the migrant other in South Africa in ▶ Chap. 28, “Seeing the Other in South Africa as a Promise” as not only alien but a threat to the well-being of the self. This turns the other into a problem for the self. She advocates for a shift from this dominant understanding of the other to one that sees the other not as a problem but as necessary for liberation from ideological shackles and the attainment of psychological freedom. Using a Socratic style of philosophizing by engaging in a conversation with a Zulu man, Rob Baum discusses the moral good of difference in ▶ Chap. 29, “Moral Good, the Self, and the M/other.” Employing the relevant ethical phenomenologies of Kierkegaard, Buber, and Levinas and the psychoanalysis of Lacan, she shows that

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the claim that the difference of the other is inimical to the self common in today’s South African thought is misplaced. She advocates for a strategic rethinking of the difference of the other as desirable and necessary for growth, a rethinking she terms m/othering. In ▶ Chap. 30, “Creating the Other in the Context of Land Redistributions,” Erasmus Masitera examines how the other is created through land distribution in Zimbabwe. Though the analysis of a process he calls thingfication, he shows how land distribution has led to exclusion and injustice in Zimbabwe. He concludes that postcolonial land distribution in Zimbabwe has caused unhealthy forms of difference and othering, disharmony, social dislocation, and suffering. The chapters in this handbook, the topics discussed, and the themes covered succeed, and I believe quite well, in exploring and analyzing some of the most important issues in the African philosophy of difference. But yet it would be untrue to say that it exhausts the issues of difference and alterity ensuing from African places neither does it exhaust the issues it has discussed or examined. It is my hope that this would ignite further discussions on African accounts and philosophy of difference, otherness, and alterity.

References Janz, B. 1997. Alterity, dialogue and African philosophy. In Postcolonial African philosophy: A critical reader, ed. Emmanuel C. Eze, 221–238. Oxford: Willey Blackwell. Laurelle, F. 2010. Philosophies of difference: A critical introduction to non-philosophy. Trans. Rocco Gangle. London: The Continuum International Publishing. Mbembe, A. 2001. On the postcolony. Berkeley: University of California Press. Mbembe, A. 2017. Critique of black reason. Durham: Duke University Press. Mudimbe, V.Y. 1988. The invention of Africa: Gnosis, philosophy and the order of knowledge. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Russell, J.G. 2012. Playing with race/authenticating alterity: Authenticity, mimesis and racial performance in the transcultural diaspora. The New Centennial Review 12 (1): 41–92. Simmel, G. 1950. The stranger. In The sociology of Georg Simmel. Trans. and Edited by Kurt H. Wolff, 402–408. London: Free Press.

Part I Conceptualizing Difference in African Spaces

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Exploring African Philosophy of Difference Elvis Imafidon

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conceptualizing Difference . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Accounts of Difference . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Philosophy of Difference . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ontological Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Epistemological Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Axiological/Moral Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

16 18 22 25 25 27 28 29 29

Abstract

It is the tradition of philosophy as a rational and critical human activity across borders to isolate specific human ideas both as syntax and as real and lived human experiences, bring them to the foreground, and make them occupy a crucial and specialized place in philosophical discourse. This is apparent in the many delimited branches of philosophy such as metaphysics – an inquiry into the fundamental principles underlying reality; epistemology – an inquiry concerning the nature, scope, and theories of human knowledge; axiology – an inquiry into the theories of human values; and philosophy of science – a critical examination of the nature, methods, and assumptions of science. African philosophy has thrived and flourished in the last six decades, beginning as a reactionary scholarship to prior denial of the possibility of its existence to becoming an established academic discipline. However, African philosophy, although succeeding in establishing its general nature, themes, and problems, is still at the elementary stage of discussing specifics and delimiting its areas of inquiry into specialized E. Imafidon (*) Department of Philosophy, Faculty of Arts, Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma, Nigeria e-mail: elvis.imafi[email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_1

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fragments. Thus, beyond the general commentaries on African philosophy in existing literature, it is only recently that we find a few scholars writing and laying the groundwork on specialized themes in African philosophy such as African ethics, African epistemology, and African ontology. My goal in this chapter is to bring one essential human experience to the foreground in African philosophy as a specialized area of inquiry. The human experience that interests me here is the ubiquitous concept of difference and the peculiarities of its experience by Africans in Africa and beyond. My intention is to attempt a preliminary sketch of the meaning, nature, scope, and primary tasks of African philosophy of difference. I show, for instance, how African philosophy of difference can shift the discourse of difference from empirical manifestations of difference to an exploration of the theories that stand under such manifestations. I conclude that African philosophy of difference is crucial in understanding and dealing with the complex issues of identity, difference, and the other experienced in Africa in areas such as albinism, xenophobia, race, ethnicity, religion, disability, and politics. The possibility of such an inquiry also indicates the prospect of delimiting African philosophy to more specialized spheres of discourse. Keywords

Difference · African philosophy · Othering · Ontology · Epistemology · Ethics

Introduction African philosophy as an academic discipline has flourished in the last six decades much more than it ever did in human history before the 1950s. This flourishing began as a reaction to a long history of denial of the possibility of its existence, that is, the denial of the ability of Africans to philosophize and the possibility for anything philosophical to emerge from African thought. (The denial of philosophy in Africa goes way back to centuries before the second half of the twentieth century. We find it, for instance, in Hegel’s The Philosophy of History (1956), Kant’s Observation of the Beautiful and the Sublime (1960) and Anthropology from a Pragmatic Point of View (2006), and a number of works written by anthropologists and sociologists in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries such as LevyBruhl’s Primitive Mentality (1947)). But the reactions against such claims did not take deep roots until Tempels published the book Bantu Philosophy (1959), which in many ways departed from such claims and affirmed the exact opposite. This triggered a series of debate on whether or not African philosophy was possible.) Beyond this reactionary scholarship, which carried on for about four decades, African philosophy has emerged as one of the prominent world philosophies competing nicely with the Western, Asian, and Indian counterparts. There are now many books, journals, conferences, workshops, and seminars organized on African philosophy. African philosophy is now an integral part of the philosophy curriculum in many African and non-African universities. Its meaning, nature, scope, and themes get clearer and clearer by the years.

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But there is much left to be achieved. Of interest here to me is increasing the visibility of delimited specialized areas of discourse within African philosophy because African philosophy at the moment is still largely clumsy and general in its contents. In African philosophical traditions, debate on key concepts are not yet in the foreground; they are not given specific attention but are instead discussed within the broad heading of African philosophy. Thus, although there are evidences of the discourse of such ideas in Africa, they do not currently play a crucial role in philosophical debates (Cf. Graness 2017: 305). There is need for African philosophy to focus more on (and African philosophers to increasingly specialize on) specific areas of discourse in African philosophy. Such areas include African ethics and its subareas (e.g., African environmental ethics, African bioethics, and African business ethics), African epistemology, African philosophy of science, African philosophy of language, African philosophy of religion, African metaphysics, African philosophy of disability, African feminist philosophy, African philosophy of difference, to mention a few. To be sure, this is already happening in minimal forms in African philosophical literature. There are now seminal essays on such specialized areas of African philosophy, and African philosophers are now focusing more on some delimited scope of thought and inquiry. (For instance, Kevin Behrens works focuses on various aspects of African environmental ethics as seen for instance in many of his essays such as: “Exploring African Holism with Respect to the Environment” (2010: 465–484); “Toward an African Relational Environmentalism” (2013: 76–97); and “The Imperative of Developing African Eco-philosophy” (2017: 191–204). Similarly, Bert Hamminga has focused his research primarily on issues of African epistemology. This can be seen, for instance, in his edited book: Knowledge Cultures: Comparative Western and African Epistemology (2005). These, of course, are just a few out of many.) This gives hope that African philosophy is no longer too general in its scope. However, much more is still needed to be done and very little is available particularly in the area of African philosophy of difference as may be seen in the scanty literature on the philosophical discourse of such issues as disability and alterity. It is in this line of thought that I intend to present some preliminary remarks on what it entails to research on an underexplored area of African philosophy, the African philosophy of difference. What is the essence of difference in African thought systems? What would be the specific concerns of the African philosopher with the experience of difference within African spaces of dwelling? What should be the focal points of an African philosophy of difference? What are the relationship between the philosophical discourse on difference in Africa and other specialized African philosophical discourse such as African feminist philosophy, philosophy of disability, philosophy of race, and ontology? How can an African philosophy of difference contribute to an understanding of the ubiquitous experience of identity and difference by Africans in African and non-African communities? These are essential questions I hope this essay would provide directions to finding answers. To achieve the aim of this essay, I begin in part “Conceptualizing Difference in African Spaces” with an academically difficult attempt to present, in as simple terms as possible, the meaning of difference, bearing in mind the highly and essentially

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contested nature of the concept, and the complicated and complex conceptualization, the concept has gone through in the history of ideas, in both philosophical and nonphilosophical literature. (Difference is indeed an essentially contested concept for a number of reasons. W. B. Gallie (1955: 167–198) gives an apt explanation those reasons. He explains that such a concept is highly appraisive, not purely descriptive; it is inevitably controversial and thus involves endless dispute since its proper use is determined by their users; such disputes are nevertheless sustained by perfectly respectable arguments and evidence; though the disputing parties adhere to different views as to the proper use of the concept in question, nonetheless, each party recognize that his/her own use is contested by others, and each party has some appreciation of the different criteria in light of which other parties claim to be applying the concept; and each party continues to argue most seriously that his/her use of the concept is sound even while, at times, realizing that other participant in the dispute can make a rational case for their own view and that no conclusive argument can be advanced for any of the competing views.) Then, I proceed in section “African Accounts of Difference” by exploring African accounts of difference which provides fertile grounds for philosophizing. The understanding of the concept of difference and the African accounts of difference prepare the ground for the exploration of the meaning, nature, scope, and themes of African philosophy of difference in section “African Philosophy of Difference.” Here I will show how the philosophy of albinism in particular and the philosophy of disability in general fall under this branch of African philosophy. I conclude that African philosophy of difference is crucial in understanding the manifold manifestation of identity and difference experienced in African societies and also highlights the prospects of delimiting discourses in African philosophy.

Conceptualizing Difference Francois Laruelle in his Philosophies of Difference: A Critical Introduction to NonPhilosophy (2010) highlights three stages of difference, or three interrelated levels of conceptualizing difference: Difference, or becoming-difference passes through three continuously linked levels of which the last two define the double articulation of philosophical decision in general: a. Difference as present in object-being, ontic difference, and corresponding to this, the category of ‘difference’: this is the empirical level of Difference, which tends always towards the reciprocal exclusion of contraries under the law of a representational and transcendent unity. b. Difference as ‘ontological difference’, the metaphysics as such of metaphysics, the transcendence of presence relative to present being. This is no longer the empirical but instead a priori level of Difference. It is metaphysics in the sense understood by Heidegger when he thematises in this mode the difference of Being and beings. Yet this operation still leaves transcendence in its relation of origin, in its relativity to the object-being or the present.

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c. Difference no longer as metaphysical or ontological, but as transcendental (in the rigorous sense of a thinking of the One, which is to say, immanence inasmuch as it at least ‘surpasses’ every empirical, generic and even ontological division). This is the point of view of Heidegger’s search for the essence of difference . . . (2010: 33–34)

In Laruelle’s account, the first level of conceptualization of difference is understanding difference as it is observed empirically in everyday ontic experiences of things with a common genus. It consists of the categories of differences we observe around us every day such as racial difference, color differences, bodily differences, ethnic difference, religious differences, political differences, economic class differences, sexual differences, to mention a few. The second concerns the theories of the being or coming-to-be of difference between two contraries. It is an attempt to understand and theories the metaphysics or assumptions about the ultimate nature of being from which the ontic difference we experience in our daily lives ensue. The last consists of the finite transcendence beyond all sorts of ontic differences and ontologies of differences to come to terms with the very essence of difference in its pure form, not the essence of this or that experience of difference, but difference-initself. To be sure, the three levels are interwoven. The first is descriptive and provides some raw materials for the second and the third which are normative and philosophical. Any attempt to understand difference must therefore combine a blend of these levels of the conceptualization of difference. At the ontic/empirical level, how do we conceptualize difference from our experience of it? Difference is in this sense conceptualized as the contrast between two things and the sets of properties that make one not to be the same as the other. In this sense, difference presupposes some sets of identities that are separable from each other. Difference therefore has to do with what sets two entities apart even when they may belong to the same genus. Difference, in other words, consists of the residues of identities; it is subordinated to identity. Vernon W. Cisney (2015) aptly put it thus: Difference as. . . observable relation between entities [comes from] the identities of which are already established or known. Intuitively, we speak of difference in empirical terms, as though it is a contrast between two things; a way in which a thing, A, is not like another thing, B. To speak of difference in this colloquial way, however, requires that A and B each has its own self-contained nature [or realities], articulated (or at least articulable) on its own, apart from any other thing. The. . . tradition. . . attempts to locate the identity of any given thing in some essential properties or self-contained identities. . .

It is in this ontic sense of difference that the most part of Western philosophy – beginning with Aristotle down to the nineteenth/twentieth century – understand difference. It is in this same sense that difference is understood from the perspective of scientific research. Logically and scientifically, therefore, difference can be made between entities that have the same genus. Ontic differences are made between things that share the same form. M. de Beistegui (2005: 151) puts this point succinctly: For Aristotle, and a whole tradition after him, something (or someone) is different from something (or someone) else only to the extent that they can be subsumed under the identity of a common genus, or kind. Two things can differ only in some particular respect, only on

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E. Imafidon the basis of something they have in common. An apple is different from a banana only to the extent that they are both pieces of fruit. An apple, on the other hand, cannot be said to be different from a hammer, precisely to the extent that the genera ‘fruit’ and ‘tool’ cannot be subsumed under a higher, ultimate term that would be common to both. As such, they are simply ‘other’.

Human reliance on the ontic level of the conceptualization of difference in organizing and ordering their social spaces is palpable. In Africa, for instance, the South African and the Nigerian or Zimbabwean may have a common genus of being Africans, but their individual identity as South Africans, Zimbabweans, or Nigerians is taken as self-contained natures or identities that stands tall and seeks to subordinate the difference that exists between them. It is the same kind of differential relationship that thrives between the Northern Nigerians and Southern Nigerians, the Hutus and the Tutsis, the able-bodied and the disabled, the Christian and the Muslim; it is a long list of differentiations. Lest we forget, it is within this same level of understanding that although sharing a common genus as humans, white people are distinguished from black people as two separate distinct self-contained realities with jaw-dropping theories of differences. The deep-seated assumption that one’s identity is independently derived from one’s self-contained nature and, by implication, the intent to preserve such identity by subordinating any forms of difference results in a hostile and violent relation with difference. Fundamentalism, xenophobia, discrimination, maltreatment, killing, dismembering, unfounded representations, racism, derogation, ethnic cleansing, and the like become the observable but unfortunate linkages between self-contained identities and differences. Remaining in this level of conceptualization breeds antisocial behavior that threatens the very root of our humanity. This brings us to the second level of the conceptualization of difference, the ontology of difference. In this level, difference is conceptualized not merely as a residue from two distinct identities, but as something ensuing or resulting from the assumptions about being or reality in the manifold of contained identities. All independent forms of identity invariably operate on some theory of, or assumption about, reality and the nature of things that gives it its structure. All individual members of a self-contained independent identity must fit within that structure of reality by possessing certain qualities presumed about the being of things. It is what gives them their identity as part of that independent set of things. By implication, any entity that lacks those qualities that are seen as fundamental to the structure of the self-contained identity is considered different. Hence, to understand how difference is formulated and brought into being, we must understand not only the observable differences around us, but the assumptions about reality that shores them up. Consider for example the qualities an entity must possess for his\her to be called a human being. As biological as this question might sound, the assumptions about humanness in human history shows that it is a bit more complicated and it depends largely on assumptions within self-contained realities. There was a time Africans and many non-European tribes did not literally fit into what was considered human in European-contained reality. This resulted in a notorious history of racial differences. The assumptions about what is to be human needed not to be true. As long as they were held and assimilated, they had real consequences for real people. Hence, we

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can liken the ontology or notion of being held by a set of identical entities to a box. Not everything can fit into a box. Some items must be left out of the box. Difference ensues from the excluded items. The third level of the conceptualization of difference is a purely transcendental ontological level of conceptualization. It involves a finite transcendence of the experience of this or that form of difference in this or that ontology to an attempt to account for the very essence of difference, not of this or that difference that ensues from this or that ontology, but of difference in its purest form. This level of conceptualization of difference is, for instance, noticeable in pre-Socratic philosophy, in Plato, and then seized to exist (thanks to Aristotle) until it reappeared about the twentieth century in many of the continental philosophers such as Martin Heidegger, Jacques Derrida, Emmanuel Levina, and Gilles Deleuze, and then in many spheres of discourse. We recall, for instance, the ontology of the preSocratic philosopher Heraclitus who, denying self-contained independent fixed realities, opined that change and difference is the basic principle of our being, not of this genus of being or that genus of being, but of being in general. Everything is in a constant state of flux. In this sense, identity is subordinate to difference. Difference understood in its purest form holds that the identity of any given thing is constituted on the basis of the ever-changing nexus of relations in which it is found, and thus, identity is a secondary determination, while difference, or the constitutive relations that make up identities, is primary. In this case, the other is always present in a relational sense. Jacques Derrida and Gilles Deleuze are key in the rediscovery and analysis of difference in the third level in continental philosophy. Their successors have extended their work into cinema studies, ethics, theology, technology, politics, the arts, and animal ethics, among others (see Cisney 2015; Deleuze 1994; Derrida 1974, 1978). Therefore, in this third level of analysis: . . . it is differences themselves, and the material, contingent qualities they exhibit, which generate the apparent stability, permanence and self-identity of the concepts that classical metaphysics took as its point of departure. Drawing on advances made in the natural sciences (evolutionary biology, thermodynamics), on recent developments in the social sciences (psychoanalysis, structuralist anthropology, linguistics and semiotics), as well as on protodifferential discourses in philosophy, such as those of Nietzsche, Bergson and Heidegger, these thinkers insist that differences are not accidents occurring to pre-given, self-identical and already constituted substances, but the very background and process against which these seemingly stable and permanent entities are generated. (de Beistegui 2005: 152)

In the transcendental level of conceptualizing difference, fixed, permanent, pregiven, unchanging identities are pseudo. They do not exist. They are mere illusions. What exist, what is real and remain present in the unfolding of being in general are differential structures and dynamisms that work behind the scene to create temporal and finite self-identity and self-contained realities that are always in a state of flux and change due to the enduring ontology of difference-in-itself. Hence, the essence of difference is its ability to be present in all things and yet absent. It is:

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E. Imafidon . . . without beginning or end: it is the pure movement of a term that is never there, a ‘term’ that is always lacking in its own place, both already no longer here and not yet here, at once late and early, present and absent; and yet, in this double movement, in this spatiality in excess of presence, and this temporality in excess of permanence, everything takes place and sense is produced. The philosophies of difference reveal how, in the phenomenal realm, the seemingly most stable systems, and, in the philosophical realm, the drive to presence and identity, are in fact sustained and undermined by a purely differential economy. Twentieth-century continental philosophy thus proposed substituting a principle of difference for that of identity. This is the ‘principle’ that declares that, for any given superficial identity, whether that of a substance, an essence or a physical system, there is always a deeper, hidden manifold of differences. . . This is the principle that stipulates that, contrary to what Aristotle and the ensuing tradition argued, not only is heterogeneity thinkable, it is also the condition of possibility of thought. (de Beistegui 2005: 153)

These three levels of the conceptualization of difference are of course interlocked. They work hand in hand in enriching our understanding of difference. How we gain knowledge about those we consider as different, how our moral obligations to the other are formulated, and how much value we place on those considered different results from a rich conceptualization of difference. Although the philosophical interest in the concept of difference is already made manifest in our discourse above, we shall attempt a detailed analysis of this interest specifically as it plays out in African philosophy. But it is important, first of all, to say a few words about difference as understood in African contexts.

African Accounts of Difference A view that has become dominant in African philosophical and non-philosophical literature is that the self in African community is intrinsically interwoven and connected with the other such that the later cannot be conceived at any point as separate from the other and vice versa. As an African, my being cannot be fully understood and comprehended separately from the being of others. To be sure, we are, in African philosophy, all too familiar with John S Mbiti’s classical rendering of this essential feature of African communitarian worldview: “I am because we are, and since we are, therefore I am” (Mbiti 1970: 141). But this is where we need to be careful not to misconstrue non-separateness for non-difference, and thus unreflectively conclude that the interconnectedness of things implies sameness of things. Difference do not only abound and flourish within the African communitarian structure; they are well accounted for by deeply entrenched worldviews and ideologies about the nature of things, which form rich theoretical basis that should arouse philosophical interests. How are difference, otherness, and alterity understood and conceptualized within African contexts? What theories and ideas account for the manifestations of difference and othering in African societies? African accounts of difference consist of the ideas and views held in African societies about what distinguishes one being from another, or on what basis a thing can be differentiated from another. In this section, I would explore these questions on two levels – acknowledging that there may be other levels from which African accounts of difference could be conceptualized.

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First, I would explore difference as it unfolds within an allegedly self-contained space in Africa, an African community of selves. Second, I would examine the accounts of difference that exist between two different self-contained African communities of selves. In the first level, African accounts of difference are clearly manifest within a closely knit community of selves, communitarian structure. As mentioned earlier, African communitarianism emphasizes the solidarity and interconnectedness of all beings. The idea is that all beings, both visible and invisible, are interwoven to form a whole and cannot be conceived as independent of one another primarily because all beings have a common essence, energy, or vital force. In the words of Polycarp Ikuenobe (2006: 63–64): In the traditional African view, reality or nature is a continuum and a harmonious composite of various elements and forces. Human beings are a harmonious part of this composite reality, which is fundamentally, a set of mobile life forces. Natural objects and reality are interlocking forces. Reality always seeks to maintain an equilibrium among the network of elements and life forces . . . Because reality or nature is a continuum, there is no conceptual or interactive gap between the human self, community, the dead, spiritual or metaphysical entities and the phenomenal world; they are interrelated, they interact, and in some sense, one is an extension of the other.

Notwithstanding the interrelatedness of beings within an African community, the idea that difference in the degree of energy or vital force possessed by an entity determines the unique status of such a being in the category of beings is cherished and highly valued. The Supreme Being, for instance, is seen as possessing the highest vital force; the vital force of the ancestors is seen as different, more intense, and higher in degree than that of humans; animals and plants are believed to have lesser vitality than humans and are thus different from humans. But this form of difference is seen as normal and largely positive for the flourishing and wellbeing of all beings in the community of beings. The distinctiveness of the Supreme Being as the most powerful being from whom vital force ensues for other beings is seen as essential because this distinct supremacy is essential for maintaining order in the community of beings (Pobee 1976: 5). Another form of difference and otherness that emerges from this level of theorization about African accounts of difference, one particularly of interest to me here, is the sort of difference found within the same category of being expected to thrive with the same degree of vitality such as the sort of difference that emerges from within the human category of being, or those below the human category of being such as animals and plants. For instance, within the human category of being in an African community of selves, othering takes different forms such as the othering of the elite class – kings, chiefs, and the royal family, elders, notable craftsmen, chief priests, witchdoctors, and so on (Onobhayedo 2007: 270–271) – from the common folks, men from women, and disabled from nondisabled persons. In these forms of othering, the reasons for their occurrence are similar to the reasons found in any human society where human relations invariably take place: power, gender stereotyping, class distinctions, physical/biological differences, and the like. But a peculiar form of difference within the

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human category of being that strikes one as odd is that which takes place on the basis of differences in vitality. Although all human beings in an African community of selves are categorized as such because they share basically the same form of vital force as different from that of, say, an ancestor or a divinity, certain human beings are differentiated or othered from other human beings for the peculiar reason that such human beings possess a different form of vitality that may be higher than the usual human vital force. This may be seen, for instance, in the othering of persons from witches and wizards and persons with different forms of disability. In many cases, such othering can become violent and negative out of fear that such different persons may harass, harm, and oppress normal human beings with their higher form of vitality. The continuous witch-hunting and killing of suspected witches and wizards in different parts of Africa clearly shows such a violent form of othering. The same is evident in the violent othering of disabled persons such as persons with albinism and persons with angular kyphosis. (A detailed list of the number of the persons killed or tortured on the basis of suspicions of witchcraft in South Africa between 2000 and 2017 can be found in the article: “Remember their Names – Victims of Witch-hunts in South Africa 2000–2017” published online by the South African Pagan Rights Alliance (2017). Accessed on October 25, 2017 from: www.paganrightsalliance.org/ remember-their-names/.) The second level of African accounts of difference that explains many of the manifestations of difference that is experienced today in African societies consists of the understanding of difference that exists between two seemingly self-contained communities of selves. There is the temptation in African scholarship to generalize African worldviews across African communities. This is often seen in the way and manner African scholars are wont to use phrases such as “African religion,” “African philosophy,” “African communalism,” “African politics,” and so on. To be sure, the temptation of doing this – even as I have done within the pages of this essay – stems primarily from the fact that many (sub-Saharan) African communities enjoy semblances of thoughts and structures. Notwithstanding this, it is important to note that even though different African societies share similar thoughts, worldviews, and structures, they still separately defend the possession of a self-contained structure that marks them as different from other groups and communities. Hence, the Yoruba tradition would therefore claim to be different from the Igbo tradition, the same way the Christian would claim to be different from the Muslim even though there are semblances in their structures. Bearing this in mind, each self-contained African unit would conceive as an other anything that is not located within its unit. The relation with such an other could be positive, negative, cordial, violent, peaceful, or tensed based on different factors such as difference in values and beliefs, the need to preserve the self-contained community, the belief in the supremacy, and the enjoyment of a higher degree of vitality of one’s own community over that of the other, economic benefits and so on. This level of African accounts of difference results in ethnic relations as well as ethnic crisis, tribalism, xenophobia, and xenophilia, and even genocide as was obvious in the Hutu-Tutsi crisis. These manifestations of difference on this level are obvious in everyday experience in Africa.

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Every person living in an African space is confronted by some form of difference ensuing from these levels just examined. Such confrontation is sometimes violent, hospitable, peaceful, or characterized by tension. African philosophy has an important role to play in unveiling the very essence of such differences and othering. This is important if we are to ever succeed in encouraging peaceful and cordial othering and discouraging violent and negative othering.

African Philosophy of Difference The last two sections have provided a fairly good background of what difference is and what an African account of it consists of. My aim henceforth will be to forge out what an African philosophy of difference would entail in terms of meaning, nature, and scope of the discourse. I would deliberately avoid delving into a comprehensive discussion of specifics unless the temptation to do so is just not avoidable. An African philosophy of difference is a rational and critical inquiry on the metaphysical assumptions, the epistemological frameworks, and the axiological/moral issues arising from the manifold of the ontic experience of difference on the African continent. African philosophy of difference is not intended to gather more facts or collect more data on the empirical experience of difference in African societies. Rather it is saddled with the crucial responsibility of theorizing and raising fundamental questions about how these many varieties of observable differences come to be in the first place, how they can be interpreted, and how the knowledge of such differences are acquired and justified within African thought systems. It is also concerned with unravelling the moral issues that arise from the African experience of difference. There are therefore three broad and interrelated areas of inquiry that an African philosopher of difference would be interested in and would have to grapple with. These can be summarized as the ontological questions, epistemological questions, and the axiological/moral questions:

Ontological Questions Here, the African philosophy of difference is concerned with the ontology of difference in Africa. It attempts to present an analysis of how the manifold of observable difference comes into being. It attempts a critical examination of the metaphysical assumptions about reality in African traditions and cultures that stands under the perception and manifestations of difference in Africa. It is therefore not in search for more information of how the one relates with the other in African spaces of dwelling, but with unravelling what assumptions about reality necessitate or results in such a relationship whether hostile or cordial. It also includes, very importantly, an analysis of the ontological bases on which a non-African considers an African as different. Very importantly too, it includes an analysis of the essence of

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difference-in-itself and how it has been at work in the unfolding of African realities down the ages. In the last section while discussing two levels of the African account of difference, one important fact that became clear was that the African conception of being as hinged on the notion of vital force plays a key role in the unfolding of difference in African societies. Hence, an integral part of the scope of an African ontology of difference is an analysis of the role African ontology of vital force plays in the manifestations of difference in Africa. This can then be narrowed down to a philosophical analysis of specific forms of difference in Africa. Consider, for example, the experience of disability as a difference, an other in African societies. African ontology of difference (particularly, of disability) is not concerned with gathering and reporting more information of how disabled persons are treated and perceived in African societies. Rather, it is interested in unveiling the idea of being within such spaces that is the basis of the observable experiences of disability. It asks such fundamental and perennial questions, for instance, as: what is the African notion of being? How is disability presented in such an African ontology? Within African thought systems, are disabled persons ontologically (not just physically) different from abled-bodied persons? Does the African notion of being encourage/ discourage the maltreatment of disabled persons? What gives a person identity in an African community to the extent that an other is considered different? The aim of such questions is to be able to interpret and interrogate what is observed about disability and to get to the foundation or roots of associated problems. I have argued elsewhere, for instance, how an African ontology may isolate and even encourage the maltreatment of certain kinds of entities including disabled persons with specific reference to persons with albinism. As mentioned earlier, African scholars pride themselves on the all-inclusive nature of African ontology. It is described as a source of solidaristic and reciprocal living. However, as interconnected and interlocked as the African community of beings may be, it excludes a number of beings or entities. The basic reason for this is to protect the socially approved web of relationships from anything that may threaten its harmony and equilibrium. For instance, some have wondered what justification may be given for the stigmatization against victims of deadly, contagious, and (previously) incurable diseases in African traditional societies. This certainly is for obvious reasons. Any human community, African or non-African, no matter how intact and closely knit it may be, would want to protect itself from extinction, which will imply discriminating against and isolating anyone or anything that may threaten its existence. Interestingly, in African traditions, not only persons with deadly, contagious, and (previously) incurable diseases are isolated from the community of beings, even morally bankrupt persons who do not live up to the expectations of the community are isolated to protect the community. This explains the reasons for banishment and ostracism. Apart from these, African ontology also isolates some other beings due to their unusual nature; they are treated as the other, different, unusual, and hence, excluded from the community of accepted beings. The list varies from one African community to the other. Persons with albinism, twins, triplets, and disabled persons will make this list although with some variations from community to community. In

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some extreme cases of African traditions, when such persons are born, they are either killed or thrown away in the evil forest as they lack certain qualities needed for them to be fully incorporated into the list of accepted human beings. (For a detailed discussion of this, particularly as it relates to persons with albinism, see Imafidon (2017: 163–177).) Thus, ontological questions about difference is an attempt to understand difference from its ontological roots

Epistemological Questions This may simply be referred to as the African epistemology of difference. In this area of discourse, the African philosopher of difference critically examines how Africans acquire and justify specific knowledge claims about those they consider as different or the other in African societies. It also consists of an analysis of how non-Africans acquire and justify specific knowledge claims about the forms of differences that exist between them and Africans. It is an attempt to employ or construct theories of knowledge that helps us to make sense of the specific knowledge claims about difference and the other that confront us on a daily basis. The community, for example, plays a key role in the acquisition, transference, and justification of knowledge claims in African traditional societies. Most of the knowledge many Africans have about disabled persons, people of other ethnic groups, unusual persons, and the like come from the representation of such persons or groups within their form of life. And community-based knowledge is mostly a blend of observation, intuition, revelation, and actively produced falseclaims. For example, the knowledge claims held by many about persons with albinism in Africa comes from the manner in which the community has presented and represented them through history. If we are to come to terms with the reliability of such specific claims, we must subject them to rigorous scrutiny and questioning. Thus, the African philosopher of difference raises such epistemological questions about the epistemic contents of difference as: What is the African theory of knowledge? How is difference represented within the African theory of knowledge? On what basis are specific knowledge claims about the other acquired and justified in African societies? What is the problem of truth in African understanding of difference? What role does ignorance, emotions, and sympathy play in the African understanding of the other? Such epistemological questions about the other or difference in Africa, and the analyses that ensue, it is hoped, would help us to understand, interrogate, and critique specific knowledge claims about the other in African thought. For instance, the elite class such as the elders plays a key role in the preservation of knowledge claims in African thought systems as they are seen as the custodians and repositories of the traditions and beliefs of the people. As the wise ones, their judgments are taken as objective truth that should be taken without questioning. This understanding of the place of the elite class in the epistemic wellbeing of persons in African cultures needs to be subjected to philosophical scrutiny. Do the elders, for instance, make judgments solely on facts or also emotions and sympathy? Should their elitist epistemic

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claims on matters of difference be accepted without questioning their validity? These are important questions requiring the expertise of the African philosopher.

Axiological/Moral Questions This represents a broad concern in the African philosophy of difference with questions of value and morals that results from the relations of the self with the other, of identity with difference. For instance, African philosophy of difference invariably consists of an ethics of difference in Africa. This ethics of difference, first of all, has to do with outlining the moral principles that may be visibly absent from the manifold of the relations of the self with the other or the one with those considered different, but ought to be present for a healthy relationship to ensue. An example of such moral principle is tolerance for difference or tolerance of the other. When there is lack of tolerance, then hostility and violence becomes manifest. The ethics of difference also has to do with the moral responsibility of the self to the other such as the responsibility to care. It critically analyzes not specific instance of care for specific cases of the other, but what it means to care at all for someone or something considered different as well as what within the social structures and traditions in African societies may hinder such care and turn the responsibility of care into a heavy burden. It also examines issues of justice and fair treatment for those considered as different on the African continent. It also examines questions of dignity, justice, care, tolerance, respect for autonomy, and moral obligations for Africans by non-Africans and vice versa. The axiological/moral question also include questions of the value of the other, which could be political, economic, aesthetic, and so on, and how the value visibly attributed to the other can be understood and examined. It analyzes how difference, not this or that difference but difference in general, is valued in African societies. The ethics of difference also examines the extent to which the is/ought gap can be sustained in African contexts when dealing with issues of difference. Are there links between the ontological conception of difference and people’s attitude toward the other in African societies? As I have argued elsewhere, there seem to be a strong connection between a people conception of reality and their idea of the good (see Imafidon 2013: 37–54). This is extended also to their attitude toward the other or those they consider as different. It does not seem wrong for members of an allinclusive community of beings to protect itself against anything they fear may threaten the equilibrium and harmony in its ontological structure. The ideas in African cultures, for instance, of the nature of persons with albinism clearly show that they are seen as a threat to the established structure of being and are thus excluded from that structure. Due mainly to their “unusual” physical nature, they are seen as not fitting into the community of beings. This justifies all sorts of maltreatment and harm against persons with albinism. For if a human being appears to another person as nothing more than an animal and a threat from that person’s ontological point of view, then harming such a human being by that person will not be regarded as morally impermissible, especially given that harming a threatening

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animal is not frowned at (see Imafidon 2017: 163–177). Hence, examining the connection between the ontological and the moral is an integral part of an African philosophy of difference. African philosophy of difference is thus a vital and fundamental inquiry into the experience of difference in Africa and Africa diaspora. It may not provide objective and final answers to question on difference and the other, but it certainly enriches and nourishes our understanding of difference in a perennial and constantly unfolding discourse on difference.

Conclusion The foregoing is only some preliminary remarks on the blueprint of a field of inquiry in African philosophy, the African philosophy of difference. It is sketchy, leaves a number of questions unanswered, and does not pretend to provide a comprehensive discussion of what African philosophy of difference entails. But what is obvious from such preliminary remarks is that coming to terms with what it would involve to be engaged in an inquiry of difference in Africa from a philosophical perspective is crucial in interpreting the specific experiences of difference by Africans in African societies and beyond. It also points to the possibility of going beyond the clumsy way in which African philosophy is mostly done now to doing African philosophy in a much more specialized and professional manner by delimiting its broad spectrum of discourse into specialized areas. Once researchers and scholars in African philosophy take the need for delimitation and demarcation of its concerns into specific areas of research seriously, it will enrich the discourse, diversify participation, and deepen the roots of African philosophy as a major academic discipline in Africa and beyond.

References Behrens, K. 2010. Exploring African holism with respect to the environment. Environmental Values 19 (4): 465–484. Behrens, K. 2013. Toward an African relational environmentalism. In Ontgologized ethics: New essays in African meta-ethics, ed. Elvis Imafidon, 76–97. Lanham: Lexington Books. Behrens, K. 2017. The imperative of developing African eco-philosophy. In Themes, issues and problems in African philosophy, ed. Isaac E. Ukpokolo, 191–204. Hampshire: Palgrave Macmillan. Cisney, V.W. 2015. Differential ontology. In Internet encyclopedia of philosophy: A peer-reviewed academic resource. http://www.iep.utm.edu/diff-ont/. Accessed 3 Dec 2017. de Beistegui, M. 2005. Difference. In The Edinburg dictionary of continental philosophy, ed. John Protevi. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Deleuze, G. 1994. Difference and repetition. Trans. Paul Patton. New York: Columbia University Press. Derrida, J. 1974. Of grammtology. Trans. G.C. Spivak. London: The John Hopkins University Press.

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Derrida, J. 1978. Writing and difference. Trans. Alan Bass. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Gallie, W.B. 1955. Essentially contested concepts. Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society 56: 167–198. Graness, A. 2017. Concepts of justice in Africa: Past and present. In Themes, issues and problems in African philosophy, ed. Isaac E. Ukpokolo. Hampshire: Palgrave Macmillan. Hamminga, B. 2005. Knowledge cultures: Comparative Western and African epistemology. Amsterdam: Rodopi. Hegel, G.W.F. 1956. The philosophy of history. Trans. J.H. Clarke. New York: Dover. Ikuenobe, P. 2006. Philosophical perspectives on communalism and morality in African traditions. London: Lexington Books. Imafidon, E. 2013. On the ontological foundation of a social ethics in African traditions. In Ontologized ethics: New essays in African meta-ethics, ed. Elvis Imafidon and John A.I. Bewaji, 37–54. Lanham: Lexington Books. Imafidon, E. 2017. Dealing with the other between the moral and the ethical: Albinism on the African continent. Theoretical Medicine and Bioethics 38 (2): 163–177. Kant, I. 1960. Observation of the beautiful and the sublime. Trans. J.T. Goldthwait. Berkeley: University of California Press. Kant, I. 2006. In Anthropology from a pragmatic point of view, ed. Robert B. Louden. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Laruelle, F. 2010. Philosophies of difference: A critical introduction to non-philosophy. Trans. Rocco Gangle. London: The Continuum International Publishing. Levy-Bruhl, L. 1947. Primitive mentality. Paris: University of France Press. Mbiti, J.S. 1970. African religions and philosophies. New York: Doubleday and Company. Onobhayedo, A. 2007. Western education and social change in Esan land. IRORO: A Journal of Arts 7 (1): 270–271. Pobee, J. 1976. Aspects of African traditional religion. Sociological Analysis 37 (1): 1. South African Pagan Rights Alliance. 2017. Remember their names – Victims of witch-hunts in South Africa 2000–2017. www.paganrightsalliance.org/remember-their-names/. Accessed 25 Oct 2017. Tempels, P. 1959. Bantu philosophy. Paris: Presence Africaine.

3

African Communitarianism and Difference Thaddeus Metz

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Incompatibility Between African Values and Individual Difference . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sources of Incompatibility . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Four Ways to Suppress Difference . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . An African Ethic of Communion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Compatibility Between the Afro-Communal Ethic and Difference . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Legal Coercion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Unequal Opportunity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Social Pressure . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Perceived Obligation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Concluding Remarks: Unresolved Issues? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

There has been the recurrent suspicion that community, harmony, cohesion, and similar relational goods as understood in the African ethical tradition threaten to occlude difference. Often, it has been Western defenders of liberty who have raised the concern that these characteristically sub-Saharan values fail to account adequately for individuality, although some contemporary African thinkers have expressed the same concern. In this chapter, I provide a certain understanding of the sub-Saharan value of communal relationship and demonstrate that it entails a substantial allowance for difference. I aim to show that African thinkers need not appeal to, say, characteristically Euro-American values of authenticity or autonomy to make sense of why individuals should not be pressured to conform to a group’s norms regarding sex and gender. A key illustration involves homosexuality. T. Metz (*) Department of Philosophy, University of Johannesburg, Auckland Park, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_2

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Keywords

African values · Communal relationship · Communion · Communitarianism · Difference · Homosexuality · Oppression · Rights · Sub-Saharan morality

Introduction Indigenous sub-Saharan values are characteristically communitarian, that is, they tend to prescribe the protection and promotion of harmony, cohesion, consensus, interdependence, community, clan, culture, or nation. Philosophers disagree about whether this supra-individual normative focus is good for its own sake (as in Ake 1987; Tutu 1999: 35) or valuable merely as a means towards something else (e.g. Gyekye 1997: 35–76; Bujo 2001). Regardless of that point, the notion that ‘the community is prior to the individual’ in some way has been central to most African value systems, at least as philosophers from south of the Sahara desert have constructed them over the past 30 years or so. There is a stark contrast between the communitarian approaches to ethics typical of African philosophy and the individualist values so prominent in Western philosophy, such as pleasure, desire satisfaction, autonomy, independence, rationality, creativity, authenticity and uniqueness. In the light of this contrast, philosophers with Western roots are often concerned about what they see as the ‘dark side’ (in the words of Louw 2001: 20; Pembroke 2017: 232) of African ethics, regarding a failure to account adequately for the importance of personal liberty and individuality more generally. In addition, there are thinkers from Africa who have voiced similar concerns, explored below. In this chapter my primary aim is to provide an interpretation of the African ethical tradition that addresses this concern. Of course, there have been many strains of thought about morality in Africa, and one strategy could be to appeal to less prominent, individualist variants (e.g. Oguejiofor 2007; Molefe 2017). However, my goal is instead to provide an understanding of ‘the community is prior to the individual’ that is sufficiently respectful of difference and, furthermore, to do so without merely positing, as others have, that the individual is not fully constituted metaphysically by the community (e.g. Gyekye 1997: 35–70) or that the community also metaphysically depends on the individual (e.g. Lajul 2017: 43). In particular, I draw on the relational understanding of right and wrong action and of good and bad character that I have developed over the years (in, for instance, Metz 2010a, 2011, 2012a, 2013, 2014). At the centre of this ethic is a requirement to prize people in virtue of their capacity to commune, that is, to be party to relationships of sharing a way of life and caring for others’ quality of life. I argue that this ethic adequately accounts for the importance of individual difference, for instance when it comes to homosexuality, while still being relational and having an African pedigree to a robust degree. I aim to show that African thinkers need not appeal to, say, characteristically Euro-American values of authenticity or autonomy to make sense of why individuals should not be pushed to abide by a group’s heteronormative or gendered expectations.

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The rest of this chapter proceeds by first pointing out how characteristically subSaharan values appear unable to ground respect for individual difference. I sketch a variety of African communitarian norms that appear incompatible with otherness and also distinguish between four sorts of incompatibility, namely, legal coercion, unequal opportunities, social pressure and perceived obligation. Next, I present the communal moral theory that I have championed as an interpretation of the African ethical tradition. I then apply the Afro-communal ethic to the four respects in which African norms appear incompatible with individuality and show that it can avoid them all, often using homosexuality as an illustration. In the final section, I discuss some respects in which critics might not be fully satisfied with the resolution I have offered. For example, some liberals would point out that the Afro-communal ethic requires participating with others, forbidding isolation from them, and many Confucians would note that although this ethic permits difference, it does not require it and also permits sameness. I conclude that those in the African tradition would be reasonable, at this stage of philosophical debate, to stand their ground against these objections.

Incompatibility Between African Values and Individual Difference In this section I demonstrate the need to address the tension between characteristically African values, insofar as they are communitarian, and individual difference, for example, with regard to sexual orientation. There are several facets of the African tradition that make it appear as though such a tension has existed and is unavoidable. I canvass the most prominent sources within that tradition responsible for the tension, ranging from gendered accounts of education to duties to uphold customs, as well as specify different forms the tension could take, from legal prohibition of certain behaviours to informal social criticism. I do not yet seek to resolve the tension, saving that for a later section.

Sources of Incompatibility One reason for thinking that African norms are incompatible with difference is the recurrent maxim that ‘the community is prior to the individual’ or, rather, the ways that it has often been interpreted. For example, there are those, such as the wellknown Nigerian political theorist Claude Ake (1987), who deny that the African tradition accepts individual rights to liberties and hold that it instead prizes group rights. If groups, such as a clan or a nation, alone have rights to integrity and flourishing, then individuals are obligated to do whatever it takes to support them, leaving little space for difference. Ake remarks that African peoples ‘do not allow that the individual has any claims which may override that of the society’ (1987: 5). This approach is likely to extend to sexual orientation, which the influential Afrocentric theorist Molefi Kete Asante approvingly points out. He remarks:

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T. Metz Homosexuality and lesbianism are deviations from Afrocentric thought because they often make the person evaluate his or her own physical needs above the teachings of national consciousness. . ..(G)ays and lesbian communities often place their sexual preferences and orientations before their nationalism. . ..An Afrocentric perspective recognizes its existence but homosexuality cannot be condoned or accepted as good for the national development of a strong people. (2003: 72, 73)

Other times the idea is not that the individual has no separate interests, or at least rights, apart from advancing the group, but that the interests of the latter, or of one’s fellows as an aggregate, are invariably weightier than the interests of the individual. A South African public policy analyst, Gessler Muxe Nkondo, suggests this when he advocates: the supreme value of society, the primary importance of social or communal interests, obligations and duties over and above the rights of the individual. This social ideal depends on a notion that proposes a general theory about the ontological priority of society over the individual. (2007: 90; cf. Mbiti 1990: 209; Ikuenobe 2006: 83)

Here, the idea appears to be that since the individual could not exist without society or is dependent on society for his identity and the options available to him, society is morally more important, such that whenever there is a clash, the individual should lose out. Presumably, then, if one’s gay sexuality were to upset others or were otherwise contrary to their wishes, one should avoid gay behaviour, suppress one’s gay desires and even try to get rid of them. Another source of the concern that African communitarianism is incompatible with individual difference has to do with personhood. As is well known, it is common in the sub-Saharan tradition to maintain that personhood is, at least in large part, something that is acquired over time. One’s basic aim in life should be to become more of a person or a real person (and, traditionally speaking, ideally so much of a person as to become an ancestor). Sometimes the thought has been that, in order to develop one’s personhood, one must adopt and support the norms of the society in which one has been reared. The influential Nigerian philosopher Ifeanyi Menkiti (1984) is often read as holding this sort of view (e.g. Manzini 2018), but he is far from the only one whose work suggests it. Consider some quotations from Dismas Masolo, a Kenyan intellectual historian of African philosophy, who at times claims that, for the sub-Saharan tradition, personhood is a matter of: ‘incorporating into their lives some of the values deemed by society to be worth pursuing as goals’ (2010: 96); functioning ‘in the service of socioculturally imposed ends’ (2010: 154); adjusting ‘one’s conduct in accordance with known or assumed expectations of other members within any relational circuit’ (2010: 206); shifting ‘the focus of their conduct from self to the group where the maintenance of shared values takes precedence’ (2010: 206); and being ‘expected to protect the customary ways through adherence to them’ (2010: 243). More stark are the remarks of Columbus Ogbujah, a philosopher based in Nigeria: In most African traditional cultures, the idea of the individual person is, for the most part, tied to the idea of the community. . ..Each community embodies a traditional culture which is

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sacrosanct to all members. . ..The primary requirement of tradition on the part of the individual is total compliance with the specific beliefs and customs prevalent in the community. . ..Here, the interest of the community prevails over that of the individual. (2007: 132, 133; see also Ogugua 2007)

It is not clear that Ogbujah is entirely approving of this perspective, as he does at one point acknowledge the risks to individuality. He is, at least, expounding a certain communitarian approach salient in the African philosophical tradition. As two scholars have recently noted, if one’s basic aim should be to acquire personhood and if personhood is acquired by conforming to social norms, then, where social norms are gendered, this African ethic allows only a cramped space for difference in respect of gender (Oyowe and Yurkivska 2014). Social norms have in fact been gendered when it comes to education and work in some traditional subSaharan cultures (e.g. Adeyinka and Ndwapi 2002: 18, 21; Adeyemi and Adeyinka 2003: 431–432), but the point applies much more broadly to any society that might base the distribution of opportunities on the fact of being male or female (where that is not itself a qualification or a matter of redress). Similar remarks go for sexual orientation. There are some who argue that homophobia in sub-Saharan Africa is largely a function of British colonial laws and Christian teachings from the United States and elsewhere (e.g. Dugmore 2015). I doubt that these external influences entirely explain anti-gay sentiment in Africa, since there would probably need to have been indigenous ‘receptors’ in order for these influences to have continued in the post-independence era. However, the deeper point is that the origin of homophobia is not relevant: a value system according to which personhood varies according to the degree to which one has conformed to the expectations of the majority must license homophobia when that is, for whatever explanatory reason, the majority’s view. The ideas that the community is ontologically and morally prior to the individual and that personhood is to be acquired by supporting a society’s mores are foundational values amongst some African philosophers and their peoples. They are meant to ground all or at least many other normative categories. It is not only at that level that one encounters tension between African values and individual difference. It is also found when it comes to mid-level principles, norms that are not foundational but are meant to cover more than one area of life, as well as appraisals of particular actions. For an example of a relevant mid-level principle, there is the recurrent idea that when there is disagreement about how to proceed, the default position should be to reach consensus amongst all those affected. For some scholars, including some contemporary African theorists, the need for consensus fuels an unwelcome drive for groupthink. In a trenchant passage, South African intellectual Themba Sono suggests, amongst other things, that for sub-Saharan cultures: to agree is more important than to disagree; conformity is cherished more than innovation. Tradition is venerated, continuity revered, change feared and difference shunned. . ..Civilisations of consent demand consensus. . ..and are thus prone to coercive pressure. (1994: 7)

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Michael Eze (2008) has also, with philosophical sophistication, advanced the view that seeking unanimity foreseeably (even if unintentionally) silences minority voices. Turning, now, to specific cases regarding what is deemed right and good, consider the central norms and values listed by the magisterial historian of African cultures, John Mbiti: [B]e kind, help those who cry to you for help, show hospitality, be faithful in marriage, respect the elders, keep justice, behave in a humble way toward those senior to you, greet people especially those you know, keep your word given under oath, compensate when you hurt someone or damage his property, follow the customs and traditions of your society. (1990: 208–209)

Similarly, note that Yvonne Mokgoro, a South African jurist who has championed the ideal of ubuntu (a Southern African catchword for morality), says, ‘Group solidarity, conformity, compassion, respect, human dignity, humanistic orientation and collective unity have, among others been defined as key social values of ubuntu’ (1998: 17). There is little in these quotations suggesting that realizing one’s deepest desires or living in a unique way are permitted, let alone that they are good for their own sake to any degree. Instead, the exclusive focus is on the interests, needs and expectations of others, with talk of ‘customs’, ‘traditions’, ‘conformity’ and ‘unity’ suggesting there is little space for idiosyncratic expression and association. The above quotations have focused on generalizations about indigenous African cultures. If one were to take less of a bird’s-eye view of the continent, and instead focus on distinct sub-Saharan peoples, one at a time, it is likely one would find some exceptions. However, one might well also find more specific instantiations of the broad patterns suggested above. For example, one social scientist judges that in the Maasai culture: the cult of the collective is extreme. When I asked a local chief, ‘What do you do when you have someone who has exceptional talent in some skill, such as musical ability?’ his answer was disapproving: ‘We don’t like it. He would not be a good murran (warrior)’. . ..(W)here the group was closer to the tourist trail and where the clan occasionally performed entertainment for cash, musical talent was valued as instrumental to the ability to purchase materials for decoration and ritual. This variation serves to underline the rule that utility to the collective is the criterion for valuing individual differentiation. (Nicholson 2005: 259–260)

It is not just difference with regard to gender and sexual orientation that appears not to be accorded much leeway by much African communitarianism, but vocation as well. So far, I have appealed to accounts of foundational values, mid-level principles and judgements of particular actions that are salient in discussions of African communitarianism and have sought to show that they do not accommodate much individual difference, where that includes the ability to obtain an education or job that is not tied to gender or to have romantic relationships with someone of the same sex. Notice that I have not yet been criticizing these aspects of African

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communitarianism; for all I have said so far, it could be that, say, the Maasai have been right to prefer warriors to musicians. The key point has instead been that if one is a friend of difference, then it is hard also to be a friend of the views that social interests are invariably stronger than individual ones, that personhood is constituted by adherence to a given community’s standards, that unanimous agreement must be achieved at all costs or that overriding goods include upholding traditions and being deemed useful to society.

Four Ways to Suppress Difference It is worth distinguishing specific ways in which individual difference might be poorly recognized by a society organized according to the above norms. In my attempt below to find an interpretation of African communitarianism that is supportive of otherness, I aim for one that avoids all four of the following respects in which individuality might be suppressed. These sites are meant to be illustrative and suggestive of broader issues and not to be exhaustive. (For just one instance, I do not discuss a state that denies certain legal opportunities, e.g. to marry people of the same sex.) First, gay sexual behaviour could be criminalized, as indeed it is by nearly 40 African states (Dugmore 2015). A Parliament could denounce homosexuality as immoral or un-African, make it against the law, impose stiff penalties and robustly enforce this statute. One could also imagine that this country’s executive leaders were to routinely say things like gay people, whose heads the state ‘will chop off’, are ‘worse than pigs’ (Zimbabwean President Robert Mugabe quoted in Manayiti 2013), or are ‘vermin’ (Gambian President Yahya Jammeh quoted in Allison 2014), or are ‘disgusting’ (Ugandan President Yoweri Museveni quoted in Landau et al. 2014) or, if they dared to present themselves, would be ‘knocked out’ (South African President Jacob Zuma quoted in Hawker 2015). The combination of censure by public representatives and state coercion makes this a particularly intense way to suppress sexual difference, but there are others that would also be burdensome. For example, even if homosexuality, for example, were not criminalized, the law might permit those who run universities and corporations not to admit those who are gay and to dismiss those who are discovered to be. Or the law might allow those in charge of allocating educational and work opportunities to do so on a gendered basis, so that, say, women are prevented from becoming firefighters and men from becoming nurses. Although it would not be the legislature doing the active discriminating, the effects on people’s livelihoods could of course be substantial. In addition, the fact that the public would not go out of its way to use the law to protect equal opportunities for these people would suggest its tacit acceptance of the way they are treated. A third way in which a value system could license the suppression of difference could be through social pressure. Even if the law permitted gay sex and prohibited discrimination against gay people when distributing competitive goods such as education and jobs, they would not be as free to be themselves as they could be if

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people were denigrating them or isolating them on a day-to-day, informal basis. If others routinely called gay people names, told them to adopt a different lifestyle, gave them disapproving looks, did not invite them to social events, refused to look at them and so on, the effects would be impairing, despite not emanating from an organization such as the state, a university or a corporation. It would be the collective effects of the behaviour of many individuals that would be responsible for cramping sexual difference, in the way that, for instance, many Americans in the mid-twentieth century treated those in interracial relationships. Fourth, and finally, a value system could be incompatible with difference in virtue of being believed. If, say, gay people in Africa believed that their foremost duty were to advance the black nation or to uphold traditions that are heteronormative, they would be less inclined to enjoy homosexual relationships. Worse still, they would tend to suffer from psychological splitting, in which they might not recognize that they are gay and could become hostile towards gay people in an unconscious effort to suppress self-awareness. In the following I aim to provide an interpretation of African communitarianism that avoids all four respects in which difference, at least in respect of gender and sexual orientation, could be occluded. I do not explicitly argue that the above forms of African communitarianism are false or unjustified, instead mainly seeking an instance of it that is much more consistent with individuality than they are. However, insofar as the communal ethic I advance below is both attractive and friendly to difference, then it is implicitly the case that the other, difference-unfriendly forms of African communitarianism are objectionable for being incompatible with the ethic.

An African Ethic of Communion In demonstrating that a communitarian ethic with an African pedigree need not occlude individual difference, I do not reject the salient sub-Saharan idea that certain ways of relating should be pursued for their own sake. I appreciate the suggestions that ‘in African societies, immorality is the word or deed which undermines fellowship’ (Kasenene 1998: 21) and that with regard to indigenous sub-Saharans ‘(s)ocial harmony is for us the summum bonum – the greatest good’ (Tutu 1999: 35). Instead of rejecting a basic relationality, I take a cue from the young Karl Marx (1844), who once remarked, ‘Above all we must avoid postulating “society” again as an abstraction vis-à-vis the individual. The individual is the social being’. I work to show that there are crucial differences between protecting a society and interacting in prosocial ways, between supporting a community and entering into communion, between upholding an extant way of life and coming to share a way of life and between maximizing others’ perceived or subjective well-being and advancing their objective well-being to a reasonable degree. In this section I expound an ethic that is informed by the latter distinctions and then, only in the following section, show that it accounts well for difference. According to my favoured reading of the African moral tradition (in the following borrowing from Metz 2017a, 2018), an agent is obligated to treat persons as having a

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dignity in virtue of their capacity to be party to communal relationships. Again, one is to treat people with respect insofar as they are capable of both being communed with and communing. Although I work to avoid using the word ‘community’, since that is sometimes taken to signify something holist or corporatist, and not relational, I can accept a certain, normative reading of the maxim that ‘the community is prior to the individual’: one can become a real person, i.e. exhibit moral virtue, only if she relates communally with others. By ‘communion’ I intend to capture much of what others sometimes mean by ‘fellowship’, ‘harmony’, ‘cohesion’ and the like. More specifically, I mean the combination of two logically distinct relationships that are often implicit in African characterizations of how to live well. Consider these quotations from a range of African thinkers about sub-Saharan ethics: Every member is expected to consider him/herself an integral part of the whole and to play an appropriate role towards achieving the good of all. (Gbadegesin 1991: 65) Harmony is achieved through close and sympathetic social relations within the group. (Mokgoro 1998: 17) The fundamental meaning of community is the sharing of an overall way of life, inspired by the notion of the common good. (Gyekye 2004: 16) (T)he purpose of our life is community-service and community-belongingness. (Iroegbu 2005: 442) If you asked ubuntu advocates and philosophers: What principles inform and organise your life? What do you live for?. . ..the answers would express commitment to the good of the community in which their identities were formed, and a need to experience their lives as bound up in that of their community. (Nkondo 2007: 91)

Sometimes these characterizations of what to aim for in life do speak of ‘community’, but that is not essential to what I draw from them, which is instead a distinction between two ways of relating. On the one hand, there is considering oneself part of the whole, being close, sharing a way of life, belonging and experiencing oneself as bound up with others. On the other hand, there is achieving the good of all, being sympathetic, acting for the common good, serving others (in one’s community) and being committed to the good of others (in one’s society). Elsewhere I have worked to distinguish and reconstruct these two facets of a communal relationship with some precision (e.g. Metz 2013, 2017b). For an overview, consider Fig. 1: It is revealing to understand what I call ‘identifying’ with others or ‘sharing a way of life’ with them (i.e. being close, belonging, etc.) to be the combination of exhibiting certain psychological attitudes of cohesion and cooperative behaviour consequent to them. The attitudes include a tendency to think of oneself as in a relationship with others and to refer to oneself as a ‘we’ (rather than an ‘I’), a disposition to feel pride or shame in what others do, and, at a higher level of intensity, an emotional appreciation of others’ nature and value. The cooperative behaviours include participating with others, being transparent about the terms of interaction, acting on the basis of trust, allowing others to make voluntary choices,

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Fig. 1 Schematic representation of communion

working to realize others’ goals and, at the extreme end, choosing for the reason that ‘this is who we are’. What I label ‘exhibiting solidarity’ with or ‘caring’ for others (i.e. acting for others’ good, etc.) is similarly aptly construed as the combination of exhibiting certain psychological attitudes and engaging in helpful behaviour. Here, the attitudes are ones positively oriented towards other people’s good, including an empathetic awareness of their condition and a sympathetic emotional reaction to this awareness. The actions are those likely to be objectively beneficial, that is, to meet others’ biological and social needs, and not merely to promote their pleasure or desire satisfaction. In addition, they are actions that are (or at least could be) done consequent to certain motives, say, for the sake of making the other better off or even a better person. By the Afro-communal ethic advanced here, it is not a relationship exhibiting both identity and solidarity that confers a moral status but rather an individual’s natural capacity for it. Typical human beings, for example, have a full moral status or a superlative final value, i.e. a dignity, insofar as they are in principle able both to commune with characteristic human beings and to be communed with by them. This account of moral standing imparts a robust form of impartiality to the moral principle, such that it is not merely those in a communal relationship with us that matter morally but instead anyone who could enter into one. Having explained what it means to have a dignity in virtue of the capacity to commune, I now specify some of what is involved in treating it with respect. Respecting or honouring a person insofar as she can be party to a communal relationship with us in the first instance means communing with her, rather than ignoring her, let alone subordinating and harming her, which are the discordant or anti-social opposites of communion. Hence, insofar as the capacity to commune has a dignity, sometimes honouring it will include actions that seek to promote the capacity, i.e. creating more people, as well as its actualization, fostering communion with them.

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However, the pursuit of such outcomes should not be ‘consequentialist’ or ‘teleological’ and instead must be ‘deontologically’ regulated, in at least two ways. For one, actual communal relationships of which one is a part have some priority relative to not only possible relationships one could have but also the actual relationships of others. To honour communion pro tanto prescribes sustaining one’s own ties of identity and solidarity, even if cutting them off would result in marginally more (sites of) communion (whether for oneself or for others). Such is a philosophical reconstruction of the special obligations often accorded to kin and clan in traditional African societies (on which see Appiah 1998). So, although everyone has a dignity by virtue of being capable of communion, when it comes to positive duties to aid, there is some moral reason to do more for those with whom one has already communed. For a second respect in which the Afro-communal ethic is deontological, honouring the capacity for communal relationship entails that it is normally wrong to seek to realize it (even amongst one’s own relations) by using a discordant means against innocents, where discord consists of relationships that are the opposites of communion, i.e. acting on an ‘us versus them’ attitude, subordinating, harming and doing so consequent to hatred, cruelty or the like. Respecting others insofar as they are capable of communion normally means not aiming to foster it by being extremely discordant with those who have themselves respected communion. However, it can mean being comparably discordant towards those who have misused their capacity to commune, if it is necessary and likely to get them to stop or to compensate their innocent victims (for discussion of this principle in the contexts of self-defence, protection of others and capital punishment, see Metz 2010b). Putting things together, a principle of treating people with respect in virtue of their capacity to commune entails that wrongdoing, in respect of innocents, is normally a matter of either failing to commune with other people, and so being indifferent to them, or, worse, being discordant. The latter means that those who have not misused their capacity to commune are treated as separate and inferior, subordinated, treated in harmful ways and acted upon consequent to viciousness or similarly negative attitudes. These anti-social ways of relating to those who have done no wrong (viz. have not initially failed to honour people in virtue of their capacity to commune) are arguably what makes it wrong to torture, kidnap, rape and engage in similar human rights violations as well as other kinds of wrongdoing such as lying, breaking promises and stealing. Such a fundamental account of the nature of wrongfulness is different from, and a plausible rival to, the Western moral theories that it is constituted by degrading autonomy, failing to maximize utility, violating rules that would be reasonable for all to accept or breaking God’s commandments. Beyond the account of communion having emerged from reflection on the remarks of African intellectuals about how to live, the African credentials of the ethic are further established by the fact that it captures well the moral value of many salient traditional practices south of the Sahara desert (or so has been argued elsewhere, e.g. Metz 2017b). For example, it is well known that many indigenous African peoples have mainly sought out reconciliation between the offender and his victims (including those indirectly affected) when a crime was committed, instead

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of, say, deterrence or retribution. In addition, they have routinely employed collective harvesting and other forms of labour; rather than leaving it to an individual or his family to undertake a large job, all able-bodied members of a village would chip in to lend a hand. These and related ways of living are plausibly understood as grounded on a prescription to treat people as special in virtue of their relational capacity; they are well-conceived as ways of prizing relationships of enjoying a sense of togetherness, participating on a cooperative basis, engaging in mutual aid and doing so out of sympathy and for one another’s sake.

Compatibility Between the Afro-Communal Ethic and Difference In this section, I argue that the ethic expounded in the previous section avoids the tension between African communitarianism and individual difference laid out in the one before it. In particular, I return to the four key respects in which difference, particularly with regard to gender and sexual orientation, could be suppressed, arguing that the Afro-communal ethic does not license any of them. In a nutshell, my claim is that since there is nothing inherently subordinating or harmful in a woman being a firefighter or having sex with another woman, these actions (and ones like them) are not wrong and should not be censured.

Legal Coercion Recall what is probably the starkest respect in which sexual difference could be suppressed, namely, by being denounced by a country’s politicians and criminalized, with rigorous enforcement and harsh penalties. The Afro-communal ethic that I have advanced is not pacifist and instead is meant to justify the use of coercion and other forms of interference with a person’s life under certain circumstances. However, failing to bend to norms governing gender and sexuality is not one of them. The clearest occasions when coercion is justified is if it is, roughly, an essential way to rebut the failure to commune, perhaps by refusing to participate and aid, but particularly by dominating and hurting others. Although it would usually treat a person disrespectfully to act in an extremely discordant way towards him if he himself had not been discordant, it would not be disrespectful to do so if necessary and likely to counter a comparable discord on his part. If the only way to get someone who is subordinating and harming to stop doing so, or to compensate his victims, were to impose a similar degree of subordination and harm on him, it would not degrade the capacity for communion he has misused; instead, it would be a way of honouring that capacity in his victims. Now, those who have gay romantic relationships are not thereby being discordant or otherwise failing to relate communally. They are not necessarily isolating themselves from others, let alone oppressing anyone or making anyone objectively worse off in terms of their biological, psychological or social needs. Therefore, state

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coercion in the form of punishment and threats thereof are unjustified by the Afrocommunal ethic. There are of course those who would object that gay sex spreads disease, such as HIV/AIDS, or fosters paedophilia, which they posit as serious harms. However, what matters for the Afro-communal is whether these associations are in fact true, not whether people happen to say they are true or even sincerely believe they are true. And there is no good evidence that they are true (for just one recent statement, and by researchers in Africa, see Academy of Science of South Africa 2015). Yet another concern about harm is the prospect of incurring God’s or the ancestors’ wrath for disobeying commands regarding sexual behaviour. Some would contend that gay people are failing to do what they can to protect society from angry agents in an imperceptible realm (‘spirits’) and are therefore failing to honour communion. However, I advance the Afro-communal ethic as secular, as a moral theory that potentially anyone from around the world could find attractive regardless of any metaphysical views they might hold transcending naturalist forms of enquiry. And from that perspective, there is again no good evidence that gay sex does incite God or ancestors to cause earthquakes, droughts, floods or plagues. (Another strategy would be to fight fire with fire, by appealing to religious counterevidence, which I leave to others more closely acquainted with, say, oral histories of specific indigenous African peoples.) Prima facie more compelling from within the ambit of the Afro-communal ethic is the objection that having gay sex would fail to support, and indeed would undermine, a heterosexual way of life that has been shared for a long time by a certain society. If part of treating people with respect means communing with them, then, since that includes identifying with them, one has some strong moral reason to act as they do and not to upset long-standing norms, so the present objection goes. It is tempting to suggest in reply that gay sex is a private matter and for that reason would not be inconsistent with a public culture. What people do in the privacy of their own bedrooms does not affect others, so a fan of sexual difference might first respond. This response is inadequate, however, insofar as one wants an account of individual difference that would permit an ‘outward’ or ‘open’ form of homosexuality. If gay people should be just as free as straight people to display their affection in public, to have their relationships recognized by the state and to be portrayed in a positive light by the mass media, then a ‘closeted’ response will not suffice. Instead, there are other, stronger reasons for thinking that participating in a gay romantic relationship would not wrongfully undermine communion, properly understood. For one, sharing a way of life need not mean pursuing the same specific ends. Participating with others on a cooperative basis does not require adopting the same particular aims in life, and it could instead mean that people do what they can to help each other reach their respective goals. After all, think of an extended family, the quintessential illustration of communion in the African tradition. One brother wants to be an engineer, one cousin wants to be a homemaker, one uncle wants to brew beer, and there is no thwarting of a shared way of life simply in virtue of people pursuing such different vocations. Similar remarks go for pursuing different romantic relationships. A shared way of life exists if people think of themselves as a ‘we’,

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take pride and shame in each other’s accomplishments and failures, like being together, interact with one another, and do so on the basis of trust, openness and agreement. In addition, let us focus more closely on the aspect of agreement that is inherent to sharing a way of life, as construed here. Sharing a way of life does not consist of everyone living the same way, or else the colonial imposition of European lifestyles would have counted as an aspect of communion. Instead, genuinely sharing a way of life means coming together and staying together of people’s own accord; that is part of what is notably valuable about a marriage, one of the most intense forms of communion. Where gay people (and their allies) reject a culture according to which only heterosexual relationships are accepted, then that culture is not in fact ‘shared’ in the relevant sense. At this point, one might accept that living the same way is not necessary for sharing a way of life but contend that it would enhance it (something I have admittedly suggested in past, e.g. in Metz 2013: 85). Even if one can respect people’s capacity to share a way of life without living as they do, and instead roughly by coordinating one’s interaction with them on even-handed terms, it seems there would be a more intense sharing of life if one lived the same way. In reply I argue that even if that were true, it would not entail that gay people would wrongfully undermine communion, for two reasons. First, although gay people would not be living the way that straight people do, nor would straight people be living the way that gay people do. If living the same way is good to some degree or would demonstrate all the greater a prizing of communion, it remains an open question whether it should be the majority or the minority who changes (or even whether everyone should seek a place closer to the middle of the spectrum of sexual behaviour!). Second, even if one is granted for the sake of argument that there would be a more robust sharing of a way of life in one sense if everyone had the same kind of romantic relationships, there would be much less of it in another, weightier sense. One of the most intense forms of communion is romantic love, and that would be seriously thwarted if gay people did not act on their natural desires and instead covered them over in an effort to impart unity to the broader society. Relationships of romantic love, and similarly intense forms of communion, include people exhibiting robust concern for one another, doing what will benefit each other in the light of their respective particularities. Hence, participating in gay romantic relationships is not on balance immoral for being discordant and so does not justify a discordant, viz. coercive, response by the state.

Unequal Opportunity Even if the state did not restrict civil liberties when it comes to gay romantic relationships, remember that it could still allow other parties not to award socioeconomic opportunities on that basis and others. Another way that difference could be suppressed would be for those in charge of allocating certain positions in schools

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or businesses not to give them to people because they are gay or female, for instance. Whereas in the previous sub-section I needed to show that the Afro-communal ethic forbids using the law for a certain purpose, here I need to show that it requires using the law, specifically to prohibit discrimination in the distribution of education and occupation. As per the principle advanced above, the Afro-communal ethic justifies legal coercion and related forms of discord most clearly when necessary and likely to rebut a comparable initial discord. I therefore work to show that failing to allow others to obtain a degree or a job simply because of their gender or sexual orientation is discordant, a serious failure to respect people in virtue of their capacity to commune. That is not hard to do. By the Afro-communal ethic, all agents must treat others as having a dignity in virtue of their capacity to be communed with and to commune. More specifically, they must treat people with equal respect, supposing that their communal nature has reached a certain threshold. Where institutions have a substantial influence on the course of people’s lives in a society, they must, in turn, operate according to a principle of equal opportunity, roughly awarding positions on the basis of qualifications. Doing so is the only way to treat others as equals, particularly when it comes to caring for their quality of life; for positions not only foster goods such as self-esteem and wealth for those who hold them, but also enable those who hold them to actualize their own, special capacity to aid others (on which see Metz 2015). Failing to let a person become a firefighter merely because she is a woman is a failure to treat her as having a dignity in virtue of both her ability to be cared for and her ability to care for others. Unequal opportunity of this sort is instead degrading of these capacities and hence licenses a coercive response from the state, such as allowing, at the very least, civil suits that would effect reparation. One might, with some irony, try to object to this argument in the ways that libertarians in the West do to the enforcement of equal opportunity. Libertarians maintain that forcing a business owner to award a job on the basis of qualifications objectionably interferes with his ability to make an autonomous choice with his property. It is his job, and so he may give it to whomever he pleases and for whichever reason, so the objection goes. Analogously, one might suggest that forcing a business owner to award a job on the basis of qualifications objectionably interferes with his ability to commune, in the sense of his right to identify and exhibit solidarity with whomever he likes in the workplace. I accept this reasoning when, and only when, it comes to mom-and-pop stores or small private universities (see Metz 2015: 200–202). When an institution does not have many staff and wants to impart a certain ethos in its institutional culture, and when that institution, or a collection of them, has very little influence on the allocation of socio-economic goods, then considerations of communion probably allow it to depart from equal opportunity (for one who might disagree, see Bilchitz 2011a, b). Under those conditions, it would be like an individual choosing a romantic partner, where, although certain forms of discrimination might be wrong (or at least a vice) when making such a choice, since doing so would not prevent others from living well, the state would also be wrong to use force to rebut it.

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However, where a small number of decision-makers determine whether lots of people in a society are able to access positions that are crucial for their ability to be communed with and to commune, equal respect for the latter’s dignity requires those in control of the resources to provide an equal chance to access them.

Social Pressure In the previous sub-section, I acknowledged that people should be left alone to choose with whom to have as a romantic partner. Does the logic of that position mean that people, outside of a public or otherwise large-scale institutional context, should consider themselves free to interact with others however they like? Notice that, as it stands, the question is poorly framed. It could be asking whether the state may rightly prohibit people from being sexist or homophobic in their dayto-day interactions with others or whether behaving that way is permissible. I address the latter, moral issue first, before proceeding to the former, legal one. When it comes to social pressure, such ostracism and criticism, it is a kind of discord and so is governed by the principle already considered in this chapter, namely, that evincing serious discord towards another person is normally justified as a way to rebut his own initial serious discord. If a woman is a firefighter or is in a lesbian relationship, she is not thereby being discordant, as per the previous two subsections, and it would therefore be wrong to treat her as anathema. One might suggest that it is only a small thing to share the word of God with her or to avoid sitting next to her when out for lunch at a restaurant. That does not seem to count as ‘serious discord’. However, it becomes a heavy burden when many people do such things on a routine basis. The collective effects amount to substantial interference and harm, and so participating in a pattern of behaviour that foreseeably has those effects is wrong, by the Afro-communal ethic. It does not obviously follow from this ethic that one is obligated to seek out gay friends or female firefighters or the like. There is a difference between not actively befriending those who are different, or even discretely avoiding them, on the one hand, and conveying negative attitudes in the way one interacts with them, on the other. The latter is what is most clearly discordant and wrongful. (It is worth noting that discrete avoidance is at least a manifestation of bad character to some degree, even if it does not wrong those who are avoided. It is a vice because, even if someone who is different is not entitled to your companionship, choosing not to become his companion because he is different is a failure to see him as special in virtue of his human, communal nature.) Turning now to whether the state may use force to rebut such a wrong, much turns on empirical matters. Would force be necessary to get people to stop making homophobic comments, or might education be sufficient? Would force be likely to help get them to stop, or would it provoke a backlash? Would force be comparable to the degree of discord they are dishing out? It appears to me that, in some cases, the use of force is justified. In particular, I suspect the Afro-communal ethic justifies South Africa’s law, specifically its

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Promotion of Equality and Prevention of Unfair Discrimination Act 4 of 2000, that, at least on one reading, prohibits people from conveying ideas that could reasonably be construed to demonstrate a clear intention to be hurtful or to promote hatred. Directing homophobic or misogynist slurs against particular individuals, even if not likely to incite violence, should be plausibly be made against the law. It is worth imagining, for a moment, what it would be like to be constantly subjected to them if one is not.

Perceived Obligation The fourth way that difference with regard to at least gender and sexual orientation could be occluded that I address concerns the individual’s treatment of himself. If a woman were to believe that her duty is to be an obedient wife and homemaker and a gay person were to believe that her desires are bad, they would be less inclined to be as much of themselves as they would be otherwise, both behaviourally and psychologically. The guilt, shame and related emotions would inhibit them from living the lives that would resonate with their deepest selves and would also constitute forms of self-harm. As previous discussion in this section has sought to demonstrate, there is nothing discordant or otherwise wrongful about a woman being a firefighter or a lesbian. With such ways of life, there is no inherent failure to prize others’ dignity in virtue of their capacity to commune, no degradation of anyone’s ability either to identify with others or to exhibit solidarity with them. If anything, for a woman to fight fires or to have a lesbian lover would be manifestations of communion and so respectful of others. By the Afro-communal ethic, work is particularly important insofar as it is a way for a person to exhibit solidarity with others. Not just any form of labour will do, e.g. a cigarette manufacturer is not acting in beneficent ways, ways that are likely to meet others’ needs or enable them to live objectively good lives. In contrast, a firefighter is patently engaging in work that cares for others’ quality of life. And, then, a romantic relationship is one of the most intense realizations of communion possible, perhaps characteristically rivalled only by a parent-child relationship. It is a way of relating in which a sense of togetherness, cooperative participation, mutual aid and altruistic sympathy are all particularly strong. None of these dimensions of relationship is contingent on the sex of the beloved.

Concluding Remarks: Unresolved Issues? In the previous section, I argued that an ethic prescribing respect for others’ capacity to commune is compatible with substantial support for individual difference, often invoking homosexuality as an example. However, there are some prima facie reasons to think that the union is imperfect, to which I respond here. First off, I had noted above that some scholars have thought that the demand for consensus in the face of political and related disagreements tends to oppress

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minorities; they are pushed to share the same views as majorities, so the objection goes. The Afro-communal ethic appears vulnerable to this way in which difference could be suppressed, since it, I have admittedly argued elsewhere (Metz 2011: 549–550, 554–556, 2012b: 70–72), supports the view that consensus-seeking is apt. I submit that there is some real irony in this objection, since, on the face of it, the advantage of seeking unanimous agreement, and not resting content with majority rule, is precisely that minorities would have a much greater voice in such a polity (see, e.g. Wiredu 2000)! The potential problem would not be with a requirement that all agree to a certain policy, and it would instead lie in pressuring others to agree when they do not. And this latter orientation can be avoided in consensus-oriented decision-making. Readers have likely been in academic committee meetings, which typically look for consensus in the first instance. Often enough, those who are in the minority and cannot yet sign onto the majority’s inclination are able to stand their ground and are not threatened, exploited, shamed or the like into agreeing with it. Instead, discussion often continues until either the minority comes around or the majority changes what is on offer to obtain the minority’s consent. Here, it is important to notice the difference between coming to share the same judgement, i.e. adopting the same policy for the same reasons, on the one hand, and not having such serious problems with a policy to prevent it from going ahead, on the other. Consensus of the sort justified by the Afro-communal ethic prescribes only the latter, as a way to relate cooperatively and to do what is expected to be good enough for all, including minorities whose interests would likely be neglected by resting content with majority rule. Insofar as the relevant sort of consensus does not essentially include the same judgement, it would not tend towards groupthink. A second reason for suspecting that the Afro-communal ethic does not adequately recognize individual difference is likely to be voiced from the liberal tradition and particularly its self-ownership and libertarian strands. Any ethic that deserves the label ‘African’ is probably going to require (cooperative) participation. The Afrocommunal ethic I have advanced does prohibit one from isolating oneself in the sense of never engaging in projects with others and never going out of one’s way to improve others’ lives. However, one might have the intuition that it is all right to live as a hermit, if that is one’s choice. For all I can tell, this intuition is not widely shared by those steeped in subSaharan cultures. In addition, upon reflection even those in Western traditions can probably recognize a kernel of truth in the characteristically African demand for cohesion. When it comes to morality, it is plausible to think that one must share of oneself, that the dignity of others matters to such a degree as to require one to offer them one’s time, effort, talents and resources. The Afro-communal ethic is not being advanced as a comprehensive account of how to live, and so it is open to suggest that there are other non-moral values that support isolation and that might sometimes even override moral values. When it comes to right and wrong, however, people plausibly have duties to come closer together. A third, and for now final, concern about my proposed reconciliation between Afro-communitarianism and individual difference would be natural to come from two quite divergent sources, the East Asian Confucian tradition and the Western

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existentialist one. Both of these traditions tend to value difference in itself, whereas the Afro-communal ethic appears not to value difference in that way. For many Confucian philosophers, harmony is the ultimate good, with harmony consisting of different elements coming together and being integrated in such a way that the best of them is brought out and something new is created (e.g. Li 2014). One of the most influential sayings from The Analects is, “The gentleman seeks harmony not sameness, the petty person seeks sameness not harmony” (translated by Chan 2014: 91). Think, for example, of a soup in which water, carrots, onions, and other vegetables are brought together; the ingredients retain their distinctness, but they are combined in a way that is novel and productive. Interestingly, parts of the Western existentialist tradition share with the Confucian tradition a focus on the final value of difference. Themes of individual authenticity, autonomy, uniqueness, and creativity are salient, where these are often taken to be basic goods that merit pursuit for their own sake (for just one, recent statement, see Tshivhase 2013). In contrast to views that take difference to be worth pursuing as an end, the Afrocommunal ethic roughly takes relationships of identity and solidarity to be. The key point is that while these relationships, I have argued above, permit difference, they do not require it. Although one may coordinate one’s behaviour with others in an attempt to realize one’s own goals that differ from theirs, one may instead decide to adopt others’ goals as one’s own. There is nothing in the ethic that prohibits one from copying others, conforming to extant norms, and putting others’ interests ahead of one’s own, if one freely chooses to do so. In reply, I again emphasize the distinction between a moral theory, or at least one focused on other-regarding duties, on the one hand, and a complete account of how to live, on the other. There is intuitively nothing immoral if a person were to neglect his own individuality and instead to take over other people’s norms, standards, or goals. He would not be wronging others in doing so. I share the judgment that he would not be living the best sort of life, but doubt that the problem is that he would have done something that merits guilt, resentment or some other sort of morally informed response. Confucians are particularly likely to disagree. However, let the cross-cultural exchange on that point begin. (For written comments on a prior draft of this chapter, I thank David Bilchitz, Elvis Imafidon, and Siseko Kumalo.)

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Allison, S. 2014. In the Gambia, yet another setback for gay rights in Africa. Daily Maverick. https://www.dailymaverick.co.za/article/2014-09-11-in-the-gambia-yet-another-setback-for-gayrights-in-africa/. Appiah, A. 1998. Ethical systems, African. In Routledge encyclopaedia of philosophy, ed. E. Craig. London: Routledge. Asante, M.K. 2003. Afrocentricity, rev. ed. Chicago: African American Images. Bilchitz, D. 2011a. Should religious associations be allowed to discriminate? South African Journal on Human Rights 27: 219–248. Bilchitz, D. 2011b. The tension between freedom of religion and equality in liberal constitutionalism. Focus 62: 11–19. http://hsf.org.za/resource-centre/focus/focus-62. Bujo, B. 2001. Foundations of an African ethic. Trans. B. McNeil. New York: Crossroad Publishers. Chan, J. 2014. Confucian perfectionism. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Dugmore, H. 2015. Why anti-gay sentiment remains strong in much of Africa. Mail & Guardian. https://mg.co.za/article/2015-06-11-why-anti-gay-sentiment-remains-strong-in-much-of-africa. Eze, M.O. 2008. What is African communitarianism? Against consensus as a regulative ideal. South African Journal of Philosophy 27: 386–399. Gbadegesin, S. 1991. African philosophy: Traditional Yoruba philosophy and contemporary African realities. New York: Peter Lang. Gyekye, K. 1997. Tradition and modernity: Philosophical reflections on the African experience. New York: Oxford University Press. Gyekye, K. 2004. Beyond cultures. Washington, DC: The Council for Research in Values and Philosophy. Hawker, D. 2015. Maimane, Zuma and other ‘anti-gay’ statements in SA politics. ENCA. https:// www.enca.com/south-africa/maimane-zuma-and-other-anti-gay-statements-sa-politics. Ikuenobe, P. 2006. Philosophical perspectives on communalism and morality in African traditions. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield. Iroegbu, P. 2005. Beginning, purpose and end of life. In Kpim of morality ethics, ed. P. Iroegbu and A. Echekwube, 440–445. Ibadan: Heinemann Educational. Kasenene, P. 1998. Religious ethics in Africa. Kampala: Fountain Publishers. Lajul, W. 2017. African metaphysics. In Themes, issues and problems in African philosophy, ed. I. Ukpokolo, 19–48. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Landau, E., Z. Verjee, and A. Mortensen. 2014. Uganda president: Homosexuals are ‘disgusting’. CNN. https://edition.cnn.com/2014/02/24/world/africa/uganda-homosexuality-interview/index.html. Li, C. 2014. The Confucian philosophy of harmony. London: Routledge. Louw, D. 2001. Ubuntu and the challenges of multiculturalism in post-apartheid South Africa. Quest 15: 15–36. Manayiti, O. 2013. Mugabe chides homosexuals again. Newsday. https://www.newsday.co.zw/ 2013/07/mugabe-chides-homosexuals-again/. Manzini, N.Z. 2018. Menkiti’s normative communitarian conception of personhood as gendered, ableist and anti-queer. South African Journal of Philosophy 37: 18–33. Marx, K. 1844. Private property and communism. https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/ 1844/manuscripts/comm.htm. Masolo, D.A. 2010. Self and community in a changing world. Bloomington: University of Indiana Press. Mbiti, J.S. 1990. African religions and philosophy. 2nd ed. London: Heinemann. Menkiti, I.A. 1984. Person and community in African traditional thought. In African philosophy: An introduction, ed. R.A. Wright, 3rd ed., 171–181. Lanham: University Press of America. Metz, T. 2010a. African and western moral theories in a bioethical context. Developing World Bioethics 10: 49–58. Metz, T. 2010b. Human dignity, capital punishment, and an African moral theory. Journal of Human Rights 9: 81–99.

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Metz, T. 2011. Ubuntu as a moral theory and human rights in South Africa. African Human Rights Law Journal 11: 532–559. www.scielo.org.za/pdf/ahrlj/v11n2/11.pdf. Metz, T. 2012a. Ethics in Aristotle and in Africa: Some points of contrast. Phronimon 13: 99–117. https://journals.co.za/content/phron/13/2/EJC128688. Metz, T. 2012b. Developing African political philosophy: Moral-theoretic strategies. Philosophia Africana 14: 61–83. Metz, T. 2013. The western ethic of care or an Afro-communitarian ethic? Journal of Global Ethics 9: 77–92. Metz, T. 2014. African values, human rights and group rights. In African legal theory and contemporary problems, ed. O. Onazi, 131–151. Dordrecht: Springer. Metz, T. 2015. An African egalitarianism. In The equal society, ed. G. Hull, 185–208. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield. Metz, T. 2017a. Ancillary care obligations in light of an African bioethic. Theoretical Medicine and Bioethics 38: 111–126. Metz, T. 2017b. Toward an African moral theory, rev. ed. In Themes, issues and problems in African philosophy, ed. I. Ukpokolo, 97–119. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Metz, T. 2018. A bioethic of communion. In The ethics of reproductive genetics, ed. M. Soniewicka, 49–66. Dordrecht: Springer. Mokgoro, Y. 1998. Ubuntu and the law in South Africa. Potchefstroom Electronic Law Journal 1: 15–26. Molefe, M. 2017. Individualism in African moral cultures. Cultura 14: 49–68. Nicholson, N. 2005. Meeting the Maasai: Messages for management. Journal of Management Inquiry 14: 255–267. Nkondo, G.M. 2007. Ubuntu as a public policy in South Africa: A conceptual framework. International Journal of African Renaissance Studies 2: 88–100. Ogbujah, C. 2007. The individual in African communalism. In Perspectives on African communalism, ed. I. Odimegwu, 127–141. Victoria: Trafford. Oguejiofor, J.O. 2007. How African is communalism? In Perspectives on African communalism, ed. I. Odimegwu, 5–23. Victoria: Trafford. Ogugua, I.N. 2007. Some consequences of Igbo-African communalism. In Perspectives on African communalism, ed. I. Odimegwu, 378–389. Victoria: Trafford. Oyowe, A.O., and O. Yurkivska. 2014. Can a communitarian concept of African personhood be both relational and gender-neutral? South African Journal of Philosophy 33: 85–99. Pembroke, N. 2017. An ubuntu-inspired approach to organisational spirituality. In Practicing ubuntu, ed. J. Dreyer et al., 227–238. Zürich: LIT Verlag. Sono, T. 1994. Dilemmas of African intellectuals in South Africa. Pretoria: University of South Africa. Tshivhase, M. 2013. Personhood: Social approval or a unique identity? Quest 25: 119–140. http:// www.quest-journal.net/Quest_25_provisional.pdf. Tutu, D. 1999. No future without forgiveness. New York: Random House. Wiredu, K. 2000. Democracy and consensus in African traditional politics: A plea for a non-party polity. Polylog 2. https://them.polylog.org/2/fwk-en.htm.

Part II Whites, Blacks, Racism, and Difference

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White’s Anti-black Racism and the Attitude of Tolerating Racial Differences Polycarp Ikuenobe

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . On the Nature of Racism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Attitude of Tolerance Toward Racial Differences . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Moral Value of Tolerance and Intolerance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

This chapter critically examines the nature of racism and the appropriateness of whites’ attitude of tolerance toward blacks. I argue that the claim that tolerance is a universal moral virtue for living a good moral life is questionable, especially in the context of racial differences and racism between white Europeans’ claimed superiority and the supposed inferiority of black Africans. I argue that if tolerance has any value, it is instrumental because merely tolerating other races may be moral or immoral, depending on the context. For instance, merely tolerating another race could perpetuate racism, because the attitude of the tolerator is considered morally praiseworthy simply for refraining from mistreating “others” regarding their racial difference instead of getting rid of one’s negative false racist beliefs. Perhaps, being a “tolerant racist” is morally superior to being an “intolerant racist” who mistreats, oppresses, or exploit the other race. Thus, being a “tolerant racist” should not vitiate the condemnation for one’s racist attitudes. Rather, the attitude of respect for persons and acceptance of racial differences is conceptually distinct from, and more appropriate than, the attitude of tolerance.

P. Ikuenobe (*) Department of Philosophy, Kent State University, Kent, OH, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_3

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Keywords

Racism · Racial differences · Tolerance · Intolerance · Respect · Acceptance · Recognition

Introduction Racism is deemed inherently bad or immoral because it indicates that one race is different from and superior to another and the superior race can treat the inferior race badly and without any moral consideration. There is also a commonplace view that tolerance is intrinsically a morally good consideration for, or attitude of restraint toward, various racial differences. According to Barry Barnes: “Tolerance is in truth a universal and a necessary virtue, always implicated in efforts to live a good life” (2001, p. 233). Thus, tolerance is considered an acceptable attitude for living a morally good life, especially in our dealings with others and racial, religious, and ethnic differences. When people are accused of racial, ethnic, or religious prejudice, they are usually quick to indicate their tolerance toward differences. This retort usually suggests that the intrinsic value of tolerance as a moral consideration for others could vitiate any putative negative accusation or attitude of racism, religious, or ethnic prejudice. However, it is unclear what is involved in the attitudes of racism and tolerance. In this chapter, I critically examine the nature of racism and the issue of whether tolerance is an appropriate moral attitude that whites should or ought to adopt toward blacks. I argue that Barnes’ (2001) claim that tolerance is a necessary universal moral virtue for living a good moral life is questionable, especially in the context of racism, racial differences between Europeans’ claimed superiority, and the supposed inferiority of Africans (and perhaps, ethnic, religious, and other differences). As Boxill indicates, European’s motivation for enslaving Africans and their negative attitudes toward Africans were devoid of any moral consideration. He indicates that “Delany never even suggests that Europeans had to overcome their moral inhibitions against slavery in order to make slaves of African. This was not because he thought Europeans are especially immoral; it was because he thought that most people were little restrained by moral considerations when they were dealing with those weaker than themselves” (Boxill 1997, p. 120). As such, if tolerance involves a moral attitude or consideration, then it is not applicable to the vertical relationship in a racist structure where white Europeans have power and see themselves as superior. I argue that if tolerance has any value, it is an instrumental value because, merely tolerating other races may be moral or immoral, depending on the context. For instance, merely tolerating another race could perpetuate racism, because the attitude of the tolerator is considered morally praise worthy simply for refraining from mistreating the “other” regarding their racial difference, instead of getting rid of the negative false racist beliefs. Perhaps, being a “tolerant racist” in such a situation is morally superior to being an “intolerant racist” who mistreats, oppresses, or exploit the other race. “Tolerant racists” usually exhibit subtle forms of racism in their dealings with other races. For instance, many European colonialists who were

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racist were tolerant of Africans whom they considered inferior; many whites in Europe and the United States of America exhibit the same kind of attitudes today. I argue that being a “tolerant racist” should not vitiate the condemnation for one’s racist attitudes. Rather, the attitudes of respect for persons and acceptance of racial differences is more appropriate than, is conceptually distinct from, and not a subset of, the attitude of tolerance.

On the Nature of Racism There is a commonplace view that transatlantic slave trade and colonization of Africa were motivated by racism, in terms of Europeans’ pejorative racial “othering” of Africans. Bernard Boxill’s analysis of Martin Delaney’s explanation and motivation for the enslavement of Africans in the United States would be illustrative and illuminating here: [T]he Europeans who first arrived in America were “not of the common people, seeking in a distant land the means of livelihood, but moneyed capitalists, the grandees and nobles.” To take full advantage of the opportunities America offered, they decided to enslave another class. Two obvious alternatives occurred to them, the Indians they found in America, and their own subservient class in Europe. But neither class was satisfactory. On the one hand, while the Indians were sufficiently ‘foreign’ to their ‘sympathies’ to be exploited harshly without undue psychological penalty, they were “wholly unaccustomed to labor,” and being “unable to withstand the hardships,” died in great numbers. Besides, they had such meagre skills in mining and agriculture that enslaving them was often hardly profitable. On the other hand, while European workers had the requisite skills, they were not sufficiently foreign to the sympathies of their masters to be exploited with the severity which conditions in the New World demanded. Finally the Europeans decided to enslave Africans. Africans were “industrious people, cultivators of the soil,” and had “long been known to Europeans . . . as a longlived, hardy race, subject to toil and labor of various kinds, subsisting mainly by traffic, trade, and industry . . . .” Moreover, they also possessed “distinctive characteristics” like “color” and “character of hair which strongly marked them off from Europeans and made them as “foreign to their sympathies” of the Europeans as Indians. . . .” This combination of characteristics sealed their fate. (Boxill 1997, pp. 119–120)

Europeans saw Africans as racially “other,” “different,” and “foreign to their sympathies” and as instruments to be used and exploited. Such “othering” of Africans and their perceived “difference” and “foreignness” were based on morphological features and the vertical power relationship arising from racism and colonialism. Much of the discussions about racism have occurred in the context of the relationship between blacks (people of African descent) and whites (people of European descent) and white’s antiblack racism. There are debates, however, as to whether racist attitudes and beliefs exist with respect to other races or whether there are other races besides black and white. In other words, it is debatable whether Asians, Jews, and Hispanics constitute races or an ethnic, religious, or cultural group (Ikuenobe 2014, pp. 108–127). I will presuppose that the relations between whites

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and blacks all over the world, regarding whites’ beliefs about the inherent inferiority of blacks and the inherent superiority of whites, are a paradigm case of racism. This is my central focus. According to Lawrence Blum, “There is a great deal of confusion surrounding the meaning of ‘racism’ and ‘racist’. Yet one thing is clear–few people wish to be, or to be thought of as, ‘racists’” (2002, p. 204). The implication is that being accused of racism is a moral condemnation of a person or a relevant action or attitude, indicating that racism is morally bad. As Michael Philips also observes, “‘Racist’ is a moral pejorative. To say that an act is racist is to say that it is prima facie wrong” (1984, p. 75). A number of views exist regarding what constitutes racism and the conditions that must exist in order for a person, action, or belief to be racist or for racism to exist or occur. According to Dinesh D’Souza, “In order to be a racist, you must first believe in the existence of biologically distinguishable groups or races. Second, you must rank these races in terms of superiority and inferiority. Third, you must hold these rankings to be intrinsic or innate. Finally, you typically seek to use them as a basis for discrimination, segregation, or the denial of rights extended to other human beings” (1996, p. 28). D’Souza’s view captures a commonplace view that, in general, racism presupposes racial differences, the belief in the superiority of one race over the other, and negative attitudes toward the inferior race. This commonplace idea of racism, which is located conceptually at the level of individual belief and attitude, could be illuminated by Kwame Anthony Appiah’s (1990, pp. 4–12) view of racism. In his view, racism has two elements. First, it involves a proposition about the existence of different races or racial essences; this he calls “racialism.” Second, it involves a disposition about the moral significance, prejudice involving the inferiority or superiority of a race. One can have racialist beliefs without having racial prejudice, but one cannot have racial prejudice without having racialist beliefs. Based on the dispositional aspect of racism, Appiah distinguishes between intrinsic and extrinsic racism. Intrinsic racism differentiates morally between members of different races because of the belief that each race has a unique moral status, which implies a moral responsibility to one’s own race. Being white would imply a moral obligation to treat white people better than blacks, in the same way in which being black would imply a moral obligation to treat black people better than whites. Extrinsic racism makes moral distinctions between races because of the belief that one’s own racial essence implies some morally relevant qualities that make members of other races qualitatively different in certain respects to warrant negative differential treatment. For instance, a white person is an extrinsic racist if he believes that being white has the qualitative racial essence of superiority and being black has the qualitative racial essence of inferiority, and these essences imply that whites can oppress or mistreat blacks. Intrinsic racism is primarily about how one treats members of one’s own race, while extrinsic racism is primarily about how one treats members of another race. In Appiah’s (1990, p. 12) view, a person can be both an extrinsic and intrinsic racist. However, racism in its paradigm case, which is my focus, involves a negative, vertical, and asymmetrical extrinsic racist relationship between a supposed superior (powerful) white Europeans and a supposed inferior (powerless) black Africans or

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people of African descent. This vertical relationship, according to Michael Omi and Howard Winant (1994, pp. 70–74), also involves and depends on a social institution of power by the superior race for oppressing the inferior race. Because for Omi and Winant, “racism equal prejudice plus power” (1994, p. 188), if one has the relevant belief of inferiority and superiority of races without the necessary social structure of the power of domination, then there is no racism, and one cannot be a racist. This assumption leads Omi and Winant to conclude that blacks cannot be racist because even if they have a belief about their own superiority, they lack the institutions or power within any relevant social structures to dominate whites. Paula Rothenberg underscores this view as follows: “racism involves the subordination of people of color by white people. . .. While individual people of color . . . may well discriminate against white people because of their color or ethnicity . . . strictly speaking, this discrimination does not qualify as racism” (1995, p. 68). On this view, blacks cannot be racist toward whites because blacks do not think of whites as inferior. Blacks do not seek to oppress whites because of whites’ inferiority, and blacks lack the power and institutions to effectuate their attitude or oppress whites. Thus, not all forms of racial prejudice or discrimination constitute racism. One might argue that the negative attitudes by blacks toward whites in the context of their racism, slavery, and colonial are normal human responses of anger toward white racism, mistreatment, and colonial oppression. We could understand racism in two different but related ways: in terms of negative attitude based on false beliefs and a social institution or power structure in virtue of which the negative attitudes of superiority and inferiority are effectuated. Thus, we might see white racism in its primary sense, psychologically and morally, as negative false beliefs about the inferiority of blacks and the immoral attitudes of contempt and disregard for them. In a secondary sense, we may see racism as behavioral or institutional, in that the relevant beliefs or attitudes are manifested in people’s behaviors and social institutions. The racist attitude of contempt, which is motivated by false beliefs about the superiority and inferiority of races, may be manifested differently in behaviors in various contexts or institutions. Sometimes, if and when, such beliefs or attitudes are manifested in behaviors, such behaviors might not be negative; they could be positive. This might explain some of the positive institutions and effects of colonialism in Africa, such as the schools and hospitals built by European colonialists in Africa. However, some institutions like the police were negative and used to oppress Africans. Thus, it is my view that we might see social institutions and power, simply as epiphenomena, instruments, or tools to translate whites’ attitudes of inferiority and superiority into actions or policies. People create social institutions and power because of their attitude of superiority in order to use them to dominate those they believe to be inferior and want to exploit. Colonial structures, institutions, and power made Europeans’ racist negative beliefs and attitudes of inferiority more insidious and potent for oppression and exploitation. In my view, racist attitudes are logically prior to, and conceptually independent of, the social institution of power. Racism can exist even when people do not have the social institution of power to translate their racist beliefs or attitudes of

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superiority into concrete acts or policies of domination or exploitation. In the primary sense, a white person, say, in remote rural Ireland is racist if he merely believes that Africans are inferior, in spite of the fact that he has no direct interaction with Africans and he is not in any proximate situation to use colonial institutions or power to oppress or exploit Africans. Social institutions are tools or instruments that do not determine racism, and the primary attitudinal and doxastic sense of racism may not, in fact, be manifested in words or behaviors. A white person may have beliefs about the racial inferiority of blacks but could conceal them, as did some colonial Europeans. Some (obviously not all) of these Europeans, including missionaries, were benevolent toward Africans and used such benevolent behaviors to deceive and absolve themselves of their immoral racist beliefs, attitudes, and sometimes, actions. The primary sense of racism, Ikuenobe (2011, pp. 169–176) argues, allows us to talk meaningfully about the idea of a tolerant racist who simply “puts up with” the race he considers inferior but does nothing to oppress or exploit them. He further indicates that because negative racist beliefs may not necessarily be manifested in negative actions but may be manifested in positive actions, it is possible to talk about a benevolent racist. One might explain these subtle forms of extrinsic racism based on Appiah’s (1990, pp. 13–17) view that racial beliefs and attitudes involve a kind of cognitive incapacity, which engenders one’s resistance to accepting the truth in the face of countervailing evidence. Many white racists accept false beliefs about blacks in spite of the overwhelming countervailing evidence that proves the falsity of their beliefs. The cognitive incapacity of white extrinsic racism is more insidious in the context of institutional racism, such as colonialism, where social institutions of power exist to perpetuate the false racist beliefs that give privileges to whites, to dominate and exploit blacks. The extrinsic racist is cognitively disinclined to accept the truth because that would strip him of the excuse or rationalization for his unjustified attitudes and privileges. It is my view that the supposed cognitive incapacity of extrinsic racism is a rationally self-interested, self-conceited, and self-induced incapacity solely for white advantage, exploitation, and power. What Appiah calls cognitive incapacity, Lewis Gordon calls bad faith. According to Gordon, (1995, pp. 2–5), personal racism is bad psychologically because it is a form of self-deception involving the choice to believe the falsehood of one’s own superiority and the falsehood of other people’s inferiority. As a character trait, racism is a reflection of a character flaw or a defective psychological trait. He writes: “By racism I mean the self-deceiving choice to believe either that one’s own race is the only one qualified to be considered human or that one’s race is superior to other races” (Gordon 1995, p. 2). For him, racism is bad because the attitude and thinking, which arise from the relevant false beliefs, lead one to make immoral choices to engage in oppressive and exploitative behavior. This point is illuminated by Martin Luther King’s idea that racist segregation is bad partly “because segregation distorts the soul and damages the personality. It gives the segregator a false sense of superiority and the segregated a false sense of inferiority” (King 1966, p. 468). According to Gordon (1995, pp. 2–6), racism involves bad faith: the self-deceptive choice to believe what is false and to act immorally on such false beliefs. Such

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bad faith makes a racist to be stubborn: to ignore, deny, or resist the evidence that ought to convince her to change her beliefs (regarding her superiority and others’ inferiority). The white racists make morally bad choices and refuse to live the best moral life because of their oppression and exploitation of blacks. Thus, a racist is epistemically dishonest by refusing to accept true beliefs; he is morally dishonest by choosing to unfairly treat himself as superior and others as inferior. A racist is psychologically dishonest because he is involved in self-delusion. The dishonest choices lead a racist to create and use institutions to oppress those he believes to be inferior. Although racism as a negative attitude involves a form of self-deception, this attitude may not necessarily have negative outward manifestations. This allows one to capture conceptually Ikuenobe’s (2011, pp. 169–176) subtle forms of racism, in that a racist can be “tolerant,” “closeted,” “self-deceiving,” or “benevolent” in his efforts to be nice to or “put up with” blacks in order to deceive himself and conceal his racist attitude or belief. However, J.L.A. Garcia argues that personal racism involves “what one does or does not wish, will and want for others in light of their race” (1996, p. 13). For him, racism is not the reason underlying one’s disregard but the disregard and its manifest action. Thus, he says: “Actions, beliefs, projects, hopes, wishes, institutions and institutional practices, remarks, and so on, are all racist insofar as they are informed by such racial disregard” (Garcia 1999, p. 13). The pertinent issue is the basis for racial disregard: whether one’s racial disregard informs racist actions or whether one’s racist beliefs or attitudes inform or motivate one’s racist actions. For Garcia, a racist’s disregard may be conscious or unconscious: it does not matter whether or not one is aware of the racist reason or beliefs underlying one’s disregard in order to be a racist. However, the problem I see is, if one does not have racist beliefs or is not aware of such beliefs that constitute the reason or motivation for one’s ill-will, then it is questionable how such ill-will may be characterized as racism and not something else. Racism as ill-will is inherently immoral, according to Garcia (1999, pp. 5–7), because it is contrary to the moral virtues of benevolence and justice. If we focus on the concept of racism at the primary level, as a personal attitude or belief, it appears that black intrinsic racism is a form of solidarity, a response to, or a way to cope with white racism. We cannot characterize this as racism that violates moral virtue. Thus, we can justify Africans’ “othering” of, the attitudes toward the “difference” of white European colonialists, and some Africans’ negative treatment of, and violent resistance against, the colonialist during independence movements. As Boxill indicates, Delany thought that Africans had no alternative because moral persuasion or appeal to whites would not be effective. As Boxill indicates, “Delany thought that when the strong can profit from mistreating the weak, the only hope for the weak is the sympathy of the strong” (1997, p. 120). Africans could not rely on the consistent sympathy of Europeans; hence, Africans resorted to violent resistance. In my view, racism is bad not only because it involves ill-will, negative attitudes, and that it manifests bad behaviors and mistreatment, but also because of the bad psychological and epistemic bases for racist attitudes, which involve obvious false beliefs of superiority or inferiority about a race. Racists refuse to accept the obvious falsity

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of their beliefs, and they deceive themselves into accepting such beliefs based on specious reasons.

The Attitude of Tolerance Toward Racial Differences From the above views, we may see racism either as negative attitudes, thinking, and beliefs, or as the actions, choices, and behaviors that derive from them, or more robustly, a composite or combination of some or all these features. Such negative attitudes, beliefs, and actions are morally bad because they destroy one’s sense of self and prevent one from having a healthy sense of self and a good sense of morality in terms of how one ought to treat others or live a morally good life. My view of racism has the heuristic value of capturing, conceptually, a “tolerant racist” who has the requisite racist beliefs or attitude but is willing to refrain from acting on one’s false beliefs and an “intolerant racist,” who uses his power to oppress or exploit people belonging to another race. It allows us to show that although being a “tolerant racist” is not necessarily good, it could be better than an “intolerant racist.” Tolerance is understood to include the following elements: that X (the tolerator) disapproves of or finds Y (the tolerated) or Y’s difference, belief, or behavior to be objectionable. X has the power to oppress or victimize Y as a result of Y’s difference, belief, or behavior. However, X refrains from doing so; instead, X “puts up with” Y or Y’s beliefs, behavior, or difference. Tolerance involves both (1) the negative attitude of disapproval of Y’s difference and (2) the passive attitude of forbearance from repression it. According to Galeotti, Tolerance is the disposition to refrain from exercising one’s power of interference on others’ disliked actions and behaviours which are considered important for both the tolerator and the tolerated. If good moral reasons can be provided for suspending one’s convictions and for not interfering with what one dislikes or disapproves of, then tolerance appears to be a special value, since it implies sacrificing one’s moral beliefs for the sake of a higher principle. The tolerator overcomes a moral conflict, and the more important her sacrifice, the more valuable is her choice of tolerance. (2001, p. 274)

The idea of tolerance gives logical and moral priority to the tolerator’s attitude, regarding his disapproval and forbearance from repression, in terms of putting up with what he dislikes. Tolerance assumes a vertical and asymmetrical relationship between the powerful (tolerator) and the less powerful (tolerated). As such, someone without the power to repress what he dislikes cannot be said to be tolerant in a meaningful sense; tolerance does not apply and cannot exist when there is a horizontal power relationship of mutuality and equality. To simply “put up with” something that one is helpless about does not involve a moral virtue or a moral choice to forbear. Hence, Galeotti (2001, p. 279) argues that tolerance is a value only if the tolerator has good moral reasons for forbearance. The pertinent issue is whether tolerance, which involves the passive and negative attitudes or stances of forbearance and noninterference, is appropriate morally for anyone to have in dealing with racial differences. Galeotti (2001, p. 275) argues that

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the issue of whether tolerance is an appropriate attitude toward racial differences is not a legitimate ethical issue because one can only be tolerant in a situation where it is questionable whether what is disliked is morally bad. Tolerance must involve something “that belongs to the grey area of things that can be regarded as morally objectionable, and not to things about which there seems to be a general agreement that they should be universally condemned, such as killing or doing wanton harm” (Galeotti 2001, p. 275). Galeotti (2001, p. 274) considers “ascriptive differences” that one cannot choose, such as sex and race, as categories that should not fall within the realm of what can be tolerated, in that they are facts about people that are not subject to moral evaluation and should not involve forbearance by others. She argues that only actions or practices that are voluntarily chosen, whose moral status is controversial, can be tolerated. I disagree! In my view, it is reasonable to argue that we can tolerate things we do not voluntarily choose. We cannot exclude by fiat, as Galeotti (2001, pp. 274–276) wants to do, what we can and cannot tolerate. To do so is to beg the question regarding the issue of whether tolerance is a moral virtue. It assumes without argument what we can and cannot tolerate and then argues that tolerance is a moral value only because it operates within the ambit of what one assumes can be tolerated. The implication is that the value of tolerance is predetermined solely based on the kind of things that can be tolerated. It is unclear whether there is general agreement regarding all subtle forms of racism and whether they are universally condemned. Different subtle forms of racism exist and are pervasive because they are not seen as morally bad, and they are tolerated. Perhaps, tolerance is and could be a reasonable attitude toward racial difference in some situations. It makes sense to expand what can be tolerated to include ascriptive differences. As such, tolerance is not an absolute value but only a relative and an instrumental value, based on what is tolerated and the moral goodness of the reasons for forbearance. Galeotti’s (2001) exclusion regarding what can and cannot be tolerated is problematic because, as she points out, many of the divisive issues in pluralistic societies that raise issues about the need for tolerance are ascriptive differences involving race, ethnicity, religion, sex, and nationality. Hence, some people commonly consider tolerance as the appropriate moral attitude in terms of living a good life involving dealings with various differences. This is the intuition behind the idea that we normally would judge a “tolerant racist” to be morally superior to an “intolerant racist.” Because racism is morally bad and tolerance is morally good, we would condemn an “intolerant racist” for being racist and condemn him separately for being intolerant. If this is reasonable, then it is unreasonable to say that tolerance cannot be applied to racial differences. The exclusion of racial differences from the ambit of what can be tolerated prevents us from morally characterizing many people within Ikuenobe’s (2011, pp. 161–181) broad spectrum of the different explicit and subtle forms of racism, based on attitudes and behaviors, and the various degrees of egregiousness of these attitudes and behavioral manifestations. Galeotti’s (2001) view suggests a binary view of both racism and the moral approach to it: you are either a racist or non-racist; a racist is to be morally condemned, and a non-racist is to be morally praised. In my view, the attitude of

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tolerance applies to racial differences, and racism involves a spectrum, and it comes in degrees. Within the spectrum of racism, you may have tolerant, intolerant, benevolent, and other subtle racism, various degrees and manifestations of tolerant, and intolerant racism, such that we are able to characterize “tolerant racism” as morally superior to “intolerant racism” in some contexts. In the context of racial differences, tolerance is only a relative and an instrumental value, and such value depends on the circumstance. Within the liberal conception of morality, tolerance could be a morally adequate attitude toward racial, sexual, and ethnic differences. Liberal morality involves the idea that an individual’s autonomy is morally valuable and an individual’s rights, freedom, dignity, and ability as a moral agent, to choose voluntarily, a rational life plan, derive from such autonomy. As such, we have to respect one’s autonomy and respect one as a person. We can use liberal morality to analyze and illuminate the relevance of tolerance to the dynamics of white-on-black racism, which involves a vertical relation between powerful whites who see themselves as superior racially and powerless blacks, who are deemed racially inferior. On this vertical power relationship, whites seek to oppress, exploit, and deny blacks of their autonomy dignity, rights, and freedom. Because blacks do not have power to repress whites, they cannot be racists or tolerant of whites by refraining from repressing them; only whites can be racists and tolerant of blacks. In this context, tolerance by white racists(as opposed to intolerance) is relatively valuable because tolerance allows, to some degree, blacks to have some rights, dignity, and autonomy. This is illuminated by Guy Haarscher’s view of the similarity between the attitude of the white’s “tolerant racism” toward blacks and the attitudes of passive tolerance toward “others” and their difference. “In both cases the ‘other’ is not really perceived as an alter ego; at most, one coexists with him, and at the very worst one crushes or deports him when one finds a way of doing it” (Haarscher 1997, p. 238). While tolerance is valuable in some sense and context, it may not be valuable in another context. For instance, the fact that a “tolerant racist” has not acted on her dislike or disapproval does not by itself vitiate the immoral force of an illegitimate racist disapproval and the false beliefs or specious reasons for disapproving of what is tolerated. Usually, a racist has no legitimate basis for not seeing a member of the other race as an alter ego or someone equal to him. He has no justifiable basis to dislike a race as a group or someone simply by being a member of a group, bearing in mind that people have no choice in the matter of which racial group to belong. To say that the attitude of tolerance is a moral virtue as suggested by Barnes (2001, p. 233) is to indicate that mere forbearance, “putting up with what is dislike,” involves a virtuous moral choice. This suggestion is underscored as follows: “the assumption here must be that tolerance is right and intolerance is wrong, period, that is, whatever one’s moral beliefs or attitudes” (Brink 1989, p. 94). This point by Brink implies the intrinsic moral goodness of tolerance and the intrinsic moral badness of its opposite, intolerance. This suggests that the moral value of tolerance is self-evident and ought to be accepted a priori without substantive justification. In my view, the liberal argument for the value of tolerance is the same argument against racism. It derives from the liberal idea of the moral respect

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for persons, in that tolerance and lack of racism are a way to respect persons by preserving individuals’ autonomy, dignity, rights, and liberty. The liberal moral idea indicates that forbearance from using one’s personal or institutional power to oppress “different others” is morally good because it involves respect for their autonomy, rights, or liberty to live life as they choose as persons. Thus, a tolerated person, usually an “other,” say a black person in the context of racial “difference” or racism, is able to live some semblance of a good life, pursue a rational life plan, maintain some sense of identity, hold beliefs or values, and act in ways that are consistent with his or her identity. My argument for tolerance as a relative or instrumental value is that living an authentic life for blacks or any “other difference” is more difficult or next to impossible where personal and institutional tolerance is non-existent. While one may disapprove of the racial “difference” of the racial “other” persons in a relevant situation, one could show forbearance by putting up with them. Some elements of liberal morality and the attitude of tolerance could be an instrumental moral value or a standard of conduct toward racial or other differences in some situations. However, such instrumental moral value cannot vitiate the immorality of any prejudice toward differences – racial or otherwise. In order for tolerance to be an intrinsic moral value, there must be additional good moral reasons not only for the tolerator’s forbearance but also for his disapproval, which must be couched in universal and impartial moral principles. The reasons for a white-tolerant racist’s disapproval of blacks cannot be based on his own subjective or debased values or false beliefs. The same applies to ethnic, gender, and religious differences. For a tolerator to rely on his own subjective or debased values or false beliefs is to beg the relevant question by presupposing what the tolerator needs to prove, which are that one’s disapproval and forbearance are justified or morally acceptable. We cannot assume without argument the value and belief (which could be false) of the tolerator or accept without proof their reasonableness as the basis for the tolerator’s disapproval. For instance, we cannot simply assume the reasonableness of the tolerant white racist’s false beliefs in his own superiority and the inferiority of blacks as the justificatory bases for his dislike, oppression, and exploitation of blacks. Although the idea of tolerance tells one to forbear with a “difference” and the “other” that one disapproves of, it does not place any moral stricture on the reason for one’s disapproval, in terms of having a morally justifiable reason for such disapproval. Moreover, the idea of tolerance does not require the tolerant white racist to critically examine whether she has morally good reasons for disliking and wanting to exploit blacks. Hence, a tolerant racist’s forbearance (compared to the intolerant racist) is not always morally good.

The Moral Value of Tolerance and Intolerance According to Alasdair MacIntyre (1996), tolerance is a “secondary virtue,” in that it provides a guide for conduct only instrumentally, as a means for achieving some end. Tolerance does not assist us in identifying which specific ends to pursue or the moral

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value of that end, in terms of indicating what, morally, we should approve or disapprove of, legitimately. Once we identify such end, such as harmonious living or the respect of persons, tolerance might help in a particular context to achieve it. Thus, tolerance is a virtue only in a situation where there are conflicting values regarding how to achieve a chosen moral end. For a white racist, the immoral end is maintaining the supremacy of whites and the exploitation or oppression of blacks. This creates the conflict between whether to forbear with, repress, or exploit blacks. Tolerance helps the racist to resolve this conflict by prescribing that she should choose not to repress blacks, insofar as such a choice, which makes her a tolerant racist, does not prevent her from believing in white supremacy, inferiority of blacks, and their exploitation. The issue for her as a tolerant racist is how to achieve the end of white supremacy without overtly repressing blacks. However, tolerance does not assist her in choosing correctly between whether or not it is true that blacks are inferior and whites are superior or whether it is reasonable to accept such beliefs. Perhaps, conflicts among beliefs or values are essential for individuals to engage rationally in the critical examination of their beliefs or values in order to arrive at the best beliefs or values. The virtue of tolerance resides in its ability to allow the best values or true beliefs to emerge rationally from among competing values or beliefs by not repressing preemptively and presumptuously any disliked value or beliefs without critical examination. Galeotti (2001, pp. 281–283) underscores this point by arguing that the value of tolerance resides in one’s willingness to sacrifice one’s own value of disapproval and the need to repress in favor of a higher inherently good liberal moral principle involving the respect for persons and individual autonomy. The value of differences in society is that no view or belief is immune from critical examination. This assumes a semblance of a moral or epistemic vacuum or skepticism, value neutrality, and competition among various values and beliefs, such that when conflicting values or beliefs are tolerated, such tolerance could engender rational debates and critical examination of different values or beliefs so that the best can emerge. This indicates the instrumental methodological value of tolerating differences in general. This also implies that if a white racist is tolerant of blacks, and this leads to the ability of blacks to pursue their life plans and live authentically as blacks, then this could lead the white racists to critically examine their beliefs about white superiority and black inferiority. Such could lead whites to realize the falsehoods of their beliefs in order to modify them. Thus, tolerance has no intrinsic value; its value involves its ability, instrumentally, as a means to achieve the relevant moral and epistemic ends of rational debate, respect for persons, and harmonious living. However, the problem with tolerance as an instrumental value is that it could prevent serious critical examination and rational debates among different beliefs and values. The idea of tolerance does not require the tolerator to take seriously or critically engage the tolerated, and it does not require the tolerator to critically examine the adequacy of his own views. The tolerator could have the false impression that his views are plausible simply because he is tolerant. The tolerated person is supposed to be satisfied or soothed by the fact that his view or difference is tolerated.

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In my view, the moral goodness of one’s forbearance cannot justify or vitiate one’s illegitimate disapproval or false-negative beliefs. The illegitimate dislike by a tolerant racist, even without repression, is not innocuous; it is substantively offensive, dehumanizing, invidious, insidious, and intimidating, especially if it exists in a context of institutional racism with a vertical power relationship. The putative moral value of tolerance is based on a misplaced moral emphasis on the attitude of forbearance from acting to repress what is disliked. This misplaced moral emphasis is problematic because the attitude of passive restraint by a tolerant racist is morally bad in a situation that requires his active moral engagement, critical examination of his racist beliefs, and respect for “differences” and the “other” as persons. The relevant emphasis ought to be on: 1. The respect for all persons, values, differences, and beliefs. 2. The critical examination of all competing values and beliefs. 3. The examination of the moral adequacy of the beliefs of the tolerator, on the basis of which, the tolerated, his view, belief, or difference is disliked. 4. The moral adequacy of both the attitude of restraint in the relevant circumstance and its underlying reasons. Because of the misplaced emphasis, the passive attitude of forbearance involving tolerance intolerance may encourage insidious forms of subtle racism, by justifying minimal “coexistence” with racial “others” or “differences.” Instead, the emphasis ought to be on the active, critical, and positive engagement that could engender acceptance, respect, or recognition of differences that could give “others” equal opportunities to live authentically with dignity and the ability to participate fully in the affairs of society. In my view, the attitude of forbearance, which is manifested in subtle forms of racism, is the predominant attitude today by many white racists toward blacks in the United States and Europe. Such attitudes have neither helped blacks nor led racists to examine critically and to give up their racist beliefs. Instead, racists are able to use such attitude of tolerance to rationalize why their concealed, conceited, and racist beliefs are not bad. The implication is that tolerance engenders the racist’s avoidance and unwillingness to make the active and positive commitment to respect persons, accept true beliefs, or change her false beliefs, in order to use such true beliefs or the value of respect for persons to morally guide her conduct. John Rawls (1999, p. 395, 435) indicates that tolerance is an excuse to avoid a commitment to the value of respect for persons, true beliefs, and to make the difficult decision between two competing alternatives, such as those involving the false beliefs of the tolerant racist regarding the superiority of whites or inferiority of blacks and respect for blacks as persons. We must require the white racist to critically examine and jettison his false racist beliefs in order to accept and respect blacks as persons. According to Newey, tolerance only requires that “the tolerator has to feel the competing pull of reasons for intervention and reasons for restraint” (2001, p. 317). Such pull does not require the tolerator to critically examine the basis for disapproval that could culminate in the active commitment to change or continue to hold one’s

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beliefs or withhold judgment. The idea that tolerance is a moral virtue derives, in part, from the falsity of the assumed logical relation between “tolerance” and “intolerance.” According to Peter Nicholson, “The opposite of toleration is intolerance” (1985, p. 158). Being opposites implies, logically, that they are contradictories. Brink’s words that “tolerance is right and intolerance is wrong, period” (1989, p. 94) indicate that tolerance is a moral value and its opposite, intolerance, is not. The underlying argument is that, if intolerance is inherently immoral, and intolerance is the contradictory of tolerance, then the moral unacceptability of intolerance implies logically the moral acceptability of tolerance. In my view, this argument for tolerance as a value is unsound. It assumes the following false views: (1) tolerance is necessarily good, and intolerance is necessarily bad; (2) as contradictories, tolerance is the only relevant and logical alternative of intolerance; and (3) the moral unacceptability of intolerance implies the moral acceptability of tolerance. This argument has the following implications. First, white racists should tolerate blacks in order to avoid being morally condemned as intolerant. Second, one may tolerate racial difference that one ought to respect. The argument also relies on a false dichotomy between tolerance and intolerance, a controversial view about their moral status, and a false view of their logical relationship. Based on the assumption that intolerance is necessarily bad, a logical deduction is made that tolerance, its opposite, is necessarily good. This argument ignores other relevant and better alternatives such as acceptance, respect, and recognition. In my view, tolerance is, logically, not a contradictory of intolerance. Logically, they are contraries. As contradictories, the moral unacceptability of intolerance logically implies the moral acceptability of tolerance and vice versa. However, as logical contraries, tolerance and intolerance cannot both be morally acceptable, but they can both be morally unacceptable. Thus, the unacceptability of intolerance does not necessarily imply the acceptability of tolerance, because in some situations regarding racial differences or racism, tolerance and intolerance are both morally unacceptable. In the situation where intolerance is the only alternative of tolerance, being a tolerant racist could be a relative value. However, intolerance is not the only alternative of tolerance. The more reasonable alternative attitudes toward racial difference are respect, acceptance, and recognition. George Fletcher (1996, pp. 235–237) criticizes the false dichotomy between “tolerance” and “intolerance” by arguing that “acceptance” is another alternative of “tolerance.” This implies that “tolerance” is different from “acceptance.” “Acceptance,” “respect,” and “recognition” require active rational deliberation and critical examination to determine the moral rightness of one’s value, reasonableness of beliefs, or the fact that a racial difference should be accepted, respected, or recognized. Because the attitudes of respect, recognition, and acceptance are different from, and inconsistent with, the attitude of tolerance, the notion of tolerance cannot include the notions of “respect,” “acceptance,” and “recognition.” Hence, the tolerant racist is not motivated to make the important determination of whether, based on critical examination, he should give up or continue to hold his false conceited beliefs. By merely forbearing and continuing to hold his false beliefs and negative attitudes,

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he is indifferent to the effects of those beliefs and attitudes on the well-being of blacks and the need to respect them as persons. Moreover, once we accept the liberal value of the respect for persons as a moral end, then tolerance is not a legitimate or the best means for dealing with or attitude toward racial “difference” or “other.” In making the distinction between “respect” (for persons) and “tolerance,” Amy Gutman (1994, pp. 20–23) indicates that “respect” as opposed to tolerance involves seeing an opposing idea as a candidate that one should actively engage in a critical and serious moral debate. Thus, “tolerance” and “respect” (which might lead to acceptance) are logically distinct because the negative judgment of disapproval and the passive attitude of forbearance regarding tolerance cannot engender the active and positive rational and critical elements of respect for persons, acceptance, or recognition. The rational and active elements of respect, acceptance, and recognition require a racist to transcend her false racist beliefs and dislike. However, the attitude of tolerance does not require a racist to transcend and get rid of her false racist beliefs or dislike; it only requires her to forbear or simply “put up with” a disliked race or persons, which involves self-conceit and self-deception. The efforts to understand and arrive at a deliberate and rational judgment about the adequacy of one’s beliefs and those of others, and the ability to rationally transcend one’s false beliefs, are characteristics of a morally and an epistemically good life and a morally and an epistemically virtuous person. Being a tolerant racist may prevent one from leading a morally and an epistemically good life as Herbert Marcuse indicates: “When tolerance . . . serves to neutralize opposition and to render men immune against other and better forms of life, then tolerance has been perverted” (1965, p. 111). A tolerant racist could use the attitude of tolerance to neutralize blacks and prevent both black and white racist from living amorally and an epistemically good life. As Fletcher indicates: “One might say that a minority culture is entitled to more than tolerance. The minority’s language, religion, and lifestyle should be accepted, and respected” (1996, p. 238). The same applies to blacks. Victims of racism do not want to be merely tolerated; they are entitled to more than tolerance. They are entitled to moral respect as persons, recognition, and acceptance.

Conclusion I have argued that racism involves a negative attitude usually arising from false beliefs about the superiority of the racist and the inferiority of the victim of racism. These attitudes and beliefs may be institutionalized into social, political, and legal structures and power to victimize and exploit a race and create a vertical relationship of domination. Tolerance, which is the idea of merely “putting up with” a value, belief, or difference that one dislikes, is not necessarily good in itself and, in particular, it cannot be considered an acceptable means for addressing racial differences and living a good life. Tolerance does not address the source of the racial belief or attitude; it only seeks to mask or hide the unjustified attitude or false beliefs.

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I argue that the better attitude toward racial differences is that of acceptance or respect for people of races as persons.

References Appiah, Kwame Anthony. 1990. Racisms. In Anatomy of racism, ed. David Theo Goldberg, 3–17. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Barnes, Barry. 2001. Tolerance as a primary virtue. Res Publica 7 (3): 231–245. Blum, Lawrence. 2002. Racism: What it is and what it isn’t. Studies in Philosophy and Education 21 (3): 204–218. Boxill, Bernard. 1997. Two traditions in African American political philosophy. In African-American perspectives and traditions, ed. John P. Pittman, 119–135. New York: Routledge. Brink, David O. 1989. Moral realism and the foundations of ethics. New York: Cambridge University Press. D’Souza, Dinesh. 1996. The end of racism. New York: Free Press. Fletcher, George P. 1996. The case for tolerance. In The communitarian challenge to liberalism, ed. Ellen Frankel Paul, Fred O. Miller Jr., and Jeffrey Paul, 229–239. New York: Cambridge University Press. Galeotti, Anna Elisabetta. 2001. Do we need toleration as a moral virtue? Res Publica 7 (3): 273–292. Garcia, J.L.A. 1999. Philosophical analysis and the moral concept of racism. Philosophy & Social Criticism 25 (5): 1–32. Gordon, Lewis. 1995. Bad Faith and Antiblack Racism. Atlantic Highlands: Humanities Press. Gutman, Amy. 1994. Introduction. In Multiculturalism: Examining the politics of recognition, ed. Amy Gutman, 3–24. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Haarscher, Guy. 1997. Tolerance of the intolerant? Ratio Juris 10 (2): 236–246. Ikuenobe, Polycarp. 2011. Conceptualizing racism and its subtle forms. Journal for the Theory of Social Behaviour 41 (2): 161–181. Ikuenobe, Polycarp. 2014. Black-on-white racism and Corlett’s idea of racism. Journal of African American Studies 18 (1): 108–127. King, Martin Luther, Jr. 1966. Letter From Birmingham City Jail. In Nonviolence in America, ed. Lynd Staughton, 461–481. Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill. MacIntyre, Alasdair. 1996. Secularisation and moral change: The Riddell memorial lectures. Oxford: Oxford University. Marcuse, Herbert. 1965. Repressive tolerance. In A Critique of pure tolerance, ed. Robert Paul Wolff, Barrington Moore Jr., and Herbert Marcuse, 96–117. Boston: Bacon Press. Newey, Glen. 2001. Is democratic toleration a rubber duck? Res Publica 7 (3): 315–336. Nicholson, Peter P. 1985. Toleration as a moral ideal. In Aspects of toleration: Philosophical studies, ed. John Horton and Susan Mendus, 158–173. New York: Methuen Press. Omi, Michael, and Howard Winant. 1994. Racial formation in the United States: From the 1960s to the 1990s. 2nd ed. New York: Routledge. Philips, Michael. 1984. Racist acts and racist humor. Canadian Journal of Philosophy 14 (1): 75–96. Rawls, John. 1999. Justice as fairness: Political not metaphysical. In John Rawls: Collected papers, ed. Samuel Freeman, 393–436. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Rothenberg, Paula. 1995. Race, class, and gender: An integrated study. 3rd ed. New York: St. Martin Press.

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The Burden of Being a Black Philosopher in a White World How to Respond to Anti-Black Racism Joseph Osei

Contents Section I: Conceptual Analyses . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73 Eurocentrism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73 Afrocentrism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73 Psychosocial Investment . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 73 The Black Hypothesis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74 Section II: The Burden of Being a Black Philosopher . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74 How Should Kofi Respond to Eurocentrism? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77 An Argument for the Black African Hypothesis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83 Empirical Support for P2 via a Jurisprudential Interrogative Approach . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83 Mathematics and Logic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83 Science and Metaphysics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 84 Egyptian Ethics and Its Application to Law and Politics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101 References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101

Abstract

How do you respond when you read that the authors of the great philosophy books such as Plato, Aristotle, Kant, Hegel, and Marx you have studied for decades, and you want to teach to your students in the US or Africa regard you as pre-logical, irrational, or less than human just because of your race? What do you do when you discover that the very subject, philosophy, for which these white Parts of this chapter were read on 24th February 1992, at the Phi, Sigma, and Tau Lecture Series sponsored by the Department of Philosophy, Northern Illinois University, Dekalb-Chicago, Illinois. The Original title was: “Is Black African Philosophy the Mother of All Philosophies and Science?” Parts of the chapter were also published under the title, Who Were the First philosophers: Ancient Greeks or Ancient Egyptians? The Legon Journal of the Humanities. Volume VII, 1995, pp. 13–35. J. Osei (*) Fayetteville State University, Fayetteville, NC, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_4

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philosophers have been revered for centuries was basically developed by black philosophers of Ancient Egypt who shared their wisdom with their foreign students like Pythagoras and Socrates? Or what do you tell your students when you discover that the thousands of ancient philosophical and scientific manuscripts associated with Aristotle’s name were “plundered” by Alexander the Great after he conquered ancient Egypt around 300 BC and given to his mentor, Aristotle, for his research and supervision in a library he founded for him at Alexandria, a city he named after himself still in Northern Egypt? What do you do when some of your own faculty and students suspect that as a black student or instructor you cannot study or teach philosophy? This chapter attempts to answer these and related questions by reflecting on the relevant philosophical and metaphilosophical literature in this domain and on the personal reflections of a black African student and (later) professor named Kofi who has been studying, researching, and teaching in the US intermittently for almost three decades. Keywords

Burden · Racism · Eurocentrism · Afrocentrism · Black hypothesis · Egyptian mystery school · Ancient Greek philosophy · Modern philosophy · Immortality · Transmigration Given his Western education in the USA which climaxed with a PhD in philosophy from a mainstream American University, can Kofi proudly identify himself as being a Western philosopher, a Western elite, or even an African philosopher? Kofi should be careful not to confuse the academic achievement from the West with being a Westerner. For, as Frantz Fanon has rightly observed, sharing in this Western heritage (as Africans or people of African descent in America, the Caribbean, or Europe) is “problematic” (Fanon 1968, p. 211). This chapter aims at articulating the reasons why this self-identification is problematic by showing the intellectual and existential burden of being a Black philosopher in a Eurocentric world. It will also explore several options by African philosophers to determine how best to respond to this problem or challenge. The options include, denying the reality of Eurocentrism, ignoring it, creating Afrocentrism as an alternate worldview, and denying the biological evidence for race, etc., and rejecting all of them in favor of the final alternative, Kofi’s rational choice: The Black hypothesis. In defending the Black hypothesis, the chapter argues that it is the most reasonable option because it boldly confronts Eurocentrism with rationally compelling logical arguments based on well-documented historical facts by renowned historians as well as credible Western philosophers, including Isocrates, a “whistle blower” among the ancient Greek philosophers who studied in Ancient Egypt during the reign of the Black Pharaohs. To facilitate the discussion, this chapter is divided into five sections: Section I devotes to conceptual clarification to allow clear understanding of the key terms for our discussion. Section II attempts to define the problematic or burden of being a Black philosopher. Section III explores the various philosophical responses by African philosophers to Eurocentrism and assesses their viability. Section IV

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presents and defends the Black hypothesis. Section V examines the significance of the Black hypothesis and defends it against some actual and hypothetical objections.

Section I: Conceptual Analyses Eurocentrism Taken literally, it is the tendency to focus on European culture or history to the exclusion of a wider view of the world. It implicitly regards European culture and race as pre-eminent. (Webster) As a worldview or ideology, it maintains among other tenets that: (a) Philosophy and science were first introduced by the ancient Greeks. (b) The European culture and race are superior to all other races. (c) Europeans have manifest destiny by virtue of their superior intellect and culture, to “civilize” and control the world (Webster 2018).

Afrocentrism Also known as Afrocentricity, Afrocentrism literally means an African-centered worldview or way of life, and emerged among post-emancipation African American scholars like Du Boise who began to challenge the Eurocentric worldview that had dominated and oppressed their lives for centuries. Its popularity in more recent years since 2000 however has been attributed to Professor Molefi Kete Asante, Chair of the Department of African American Studies at Temple University who articulated the Afrocentric view in a lecture at the University of Liverpool entitled “Afrocentricity: Toward a New Understanding of African Thought in this Millennium.” Four of the key ideas he presented were that: (a) Philosophy originated in Africa and the first philosophers in the world were Africans. (b) Africans should reject the Western structure of knowledge imposed on African leaders and their people. (c) Afrocentrism is the only ideology that can liberate African people; and not Marxism, Islam, Christianity, Buddhism, or Judaism. (d) The aim of Afrocentricity is “to help lay out a plan for the recovery of African place, respectability, accountability, and leadership” (Asante 2009).

Psychosocial Investment According to this psychosocial theory, a person or a social group has personal investment in a concept or a theory if:

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(a) That theory is a source of personal satisfaction/security to them. (b) To revise or reject the theory would elicit in them feelings of dejection, deprivation, or anxiety. (c) These feelings are to be explained by their identification with the theory (Pittman 1992, p. 210).

The Black Hypothesis Black hypothesis as used in this chapter refers to the twin thesis that: (a) The first philosophers were not the ancient Greeks or ancient Europeans, but ancient Egyptians. (b) These ancient Egyptians were Blacks with typical Negroid features. Understanding these four concepts, especially the concept of personal investment, and their implications to each other is critical to our discussion. The reason is that both the Eurocentric and the Afrocentric have made personal investments in their theories of the origin of philosophy and science. While the Eurocentric believes that the first philosophers and scientist were the ancient Greeks, the Afrocentric believes that the first philosophers and scientists were not only ancient natives of Africa, with Egypt as their home, but were also Black people with Negroid features like them (Osei 1995).

Section II: The Burden of Being a Black Philosopher The identity of a black philosopher is problematic for several reasons. For example, those who hold the Eurocentric view of culture believe not only that all intellectual ideas (especially in philosophy and science) are exclusively European in origin, but also that their universality or globally dominance constitutes absolute proof of European superiority over all other cultures and races. Though not all, many world-famous Western philosophers (exemplified below) are Eurocentrics in the above sense. Among other ideas, they hold and defend a ranked racial ontology, like multilayered pyramidical structure in which the White race rests at the apex, followed by other races, while the Black race dwells at the bottom. Historically, this anti-Black prejudice or racism can be traced as far back as Aristotle (in The Politics) and Plato (in The Republic); but seems to peak in Hegel’s Introduction to his Philosophy of History, also called History of Philosophy. The Black African, Hegel claims, possesses a pre-logical mentality and is therefore incapable of any abstract reasoning or philosophy (Hegel 1956, pp. 91–99). Having mentally carved out the northern part of Africa including Egypt, in the Introduction to this book, he now comments on the rest of Africa saying:

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In Negro land, the characteristic point is that consciousness has not yet attained to the realization of any substantial objective existence as for example, God or Law. . . The Negro land, (or Africa Proper) . . . exhibits the natural man in his untamed state. We must lay aside all thought of reverence and morality—all that we call feeling—if we would rightly comprehend him; there is nothing harmonious with humanity to be found in this type of character. . . At this point we leave Africa not to mention it again. For it is no historical part of the world; it has no movement or development to exhibit. (Hegel 1956, Intro.)

In short, the term “Black philosopher” or “African philosopher,” would appear to Hegel and like-minded Eurocentric philosophers as not merely paradoxical, but as self-contradictory since philosophy, as they understand it, cannot be African, and the Black African cannot be a philosopher. Another devastating example of Eurocentric racism is from Immanuel Kant. He claims in agreement with David Hume that there has never been a civilization of any complexion, other than white. In apparent reference to a black person he had met who held philosophical views he disagreed with, Kant wrote: “This fellow was black from head to toe, a clear proof that what he said was stupid (“This fellow was black from head to toe, a clear proof that what he said was stupid.” (Could this Black person be, William Anthony Amo, the young boy taken by Basel Missionaries to study scripture to become a missionary to Africa but turned out to be a professor of Philosophy in Germany in the nineteenth century?)) (Serequerberham 1992). Imagine what was going through Kofi’s mind as he read these for the first time! How could this great philosopher take a person’s color to be an index of his IQ; implying that the whiter you are, the more intelligent you are, while the darker you are, the closer you are to a moron? For all such Eurocentric thinkers, the idea of an African philosophy would appear to be a contradiction in terms; and the suggestion that the Greek “borrowed” any of their basic doctrines from Black Africans will be, to put it mildly, simply outrageous! When a European missionary, Father Temples, was once told that precolonial Africans knew God and had African names for him (because of what he had heard from Hegel and like-minded Eurocentric philosophers), he could not help screaming in outrage: “How can the untutored African conceive of God?” Similarly, the Eurocentric hearing about “African philosophy:” for the first time, might scream in outrage: “How can the pre-logical mind of the African comprehend or engage in philosophy?” Another Eurocentric philosopher in this light is Martin Heidegger. Desperate to defend the Greek origin of philosophy in defense of his Eurocentric worldview, Heidegger, a major European philosopher, unknowingly commits two embarrassing fallacies: begging the question and confusing an object with its referent. He argues that all that is necessary for one to know that philosophy originated from Greece (and not Africa) is to listen to the name: The name “Western European philosophy” is in truth a tautology, he argues, since “Philosophy is Greek in its nature” (Heidegger 1965, p. 109). His reason for this assertion is simply that the term “philosophy” is Greek. Further, he contends, “If we truly hear the word (philosophia) and reflect upon what we have heard, the name “philosophy” summons us into the history of the Greek origin of philosophy” (Heidegger, ibid., p. 110).

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Heidegger’s argument however cannot be logically sound. If Heidegger’s argument were sound, it would imply that since the term “soccer” is an American term, then Americans invented the game soccer. But that would be obviously incorrect since the soccer game was historically invented in England but called by the different name “football.” Heidegger’s mistake here is an example of confusing an object with its name or referent. The planet Venus might be called “evening star” or “morning star” without inconsistency or contradiction since the two names refer to the same object, Venus (Joe Rao 2016). Similarly, in the present context, one can consistently maintain that the object philosophy as a discipline was first invented in Egypt and grant that its current name “philosophy” was given by the Greeks, just as football was invented in England and given its new name “soccer” by Americans. Writing in his “Critique of Eurocentrism,” the East African philosopher Tsenay Serequeberhan does not seem to recognize the problematic nature of referring to himself as a Western elite, despite Fanon’s caution. For Serequeberhan cites with approval a similar claim made by Anthony Appiah (in his popular work, In My Father’s House 1992) and writes: [We] contemporary African philosophers, and Westernized Africans in general, share, in the intellectual heritage of Europe by virtue of our training and educational formation. (Serequerberhan 1998, p. 74)

Following Hegel and other Eurocentrics, not many Caucasians would consider Black Africans as legitimate heirs to the same intellectual and cultural heritage of their forebears. What Serequeberhan may not recognize is that Appiah could make a legitimate claim to the Western heritage but not by virtue of his educational formation in the West, but rather, by virtue of having been born to a White British mother (who married Joe Appiah, a revered Ashanti attorney and politician from Kumasi, Ghana, West Africa). Also, when the Oxford don in Sociology and former Prime Minister of Ghana Professor K.A. Busia identified himself a “Westerner” who would not use African tribal images to win political allegiance on account of his Western education, he inadvertently alienated himself from many of his European friends as well as his fellow Ghanaian who accused him of “cultural arrogance” (Lacouture 1978), p. 260). Therefore, Kofi should be careful not to acquiesce with those who – by virtue of their Western education – identify themselves as Westernized African intellectuals or even as African philosophers given the alleged logical incompatibilities from the Eurocentric perspective. The burden of being a Black Philosopher is not just academic but also existential. How do you respond as a Black philosophy student in Europe or North America when you read that the authors of the great philosophy books you have admired and studied for decades – such as Plato, Aristotle, Kant, Hegel, and Marx – and you want to teach to your students regard you as pre-logical, irrational, or a sub-human who can neither comprehend nor do philosophy? What do you do when some of your own Western faculty and students suspect that just because you are black, you cannot

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study or teach philosophy? In short, how should a Black African Philosopher respond to Eurocentrism founded on anti-Black racism? The burden of being a Black philosopher is therefore a two-pronged problem: conceptual and existential/practical. It can be perplexing when you consider that to be able to understand and recognize his/her identity, one must first be that entity to be identified; yet one cannot authentically be that entity unless one understands and recognizes that identity conceptually. Though not equivalent, it might help to consider it as a type of double consciousness that haunted W.E. Du Boise and still haunts other African American scholars (Du Boise 1903).

How Should Kofi Respond to Eurocentrism? Not being the trail blazer in this pursuit, Kofi can learn from the missteps of his predecessors in this journey toward authentic self-identification because of, or in spite of, Eurocentrism. Six such alternative responses are critically examined in anticipation of the more defensible seventh alternative: The Black hypothesis. 1. African-American Philosophers Way: Hermeneutical Deconstruction. Broadly speaking, most African American philosophers do not just reject Eurocentrism and its component Anti-Black racism (Serequerberham 1998 p.8). Identified as the Hermeneutical Tradition in Africana philosophy, these writers led by Lucius Outlaw, (1992) Leonard Harris, etc. have, through their own independent critical analyses and interpretation/reinterpretation of various philosophical literature, identified several writings by well-known Western philosophers, including those of Kant and Hegel cited above in the conceptual analyses of Eurocentrism (Serequerberham 1998. p.8). Other racist remarks they have identified and brought to light include those of David Hume and even Karl Marx, the so-called champion of the downtrodden. They have also traced European racism all the way back to Aristotle who used his philosophy to rationalize slavery of Blacks and other non-Whites and Plato who also advocated a caste system with workers, including Black slaves (Harris 1999). They have exposed the implicit racism in many other European and white American literature, movies, and TV programs especially in the past that portrayed other races, especially Africans and African Americans as inferior or second-class citizens. To rationalize their disrespect and mistreatment of Blacks, Harris maintains Eurocentrics have metaphorically “decapitated” Africa, by cutting off Egypt and North Africa, so Blacks could not lay claim to the great civilization of Egypt and its influence on European and other civilizations (Presbey 2003, p. 7). Shocked by the racism of these major philosophers within the Western tradition, and unsure where any of the various White philosophy professors he met in the classroom or office stood on the Eurocentric-Afrocentric debate Kofi faced a dilemma. If he showed his rejection of the racist views, he could be labeled “radical,” and if he claimed he was not aware or was not offended, he could be labeled naïve. Therefore, he was going to be labeled a radical or naïve; none of which could leave

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him unscathed in the eyes of his almost exclusively White professors. So, on purely prudential grounds as a foreign student on American Cultural Exchange scholarship, Kofi tried to keep his views on race and Eurocentrism to himself. 2. The Wiredu Way: “Hold Your Nose.” Professor Wiredu’s advice for the young Black African philosophy student who aspires to gain from the insights of Kant and other Western philosophers is; “Hold your nose,” to minimize the odor from racism, and study as much as you can from their gem for yourself and your people (Osei 2011, p. 116). He does not arrive at this conclusion lightly having struggled with it himself as a young Black African philosophy student from the Gold Coast (now Ghana) studying in Europe, and now as a Black professor teaching in the USA. To reject philosophy because of European racism, he finds, would be tantamount to throwing away the baby together with the baby’s dirty bath water, while not rejecting it also makes others suspect you have been brainwashed by the Europeans or you’re just a wimp. He vents his frustration saying: Indeed, an African needs a certain level of headedness to deal with some of these thinkers at all. Neither Hume, nor Marx displayed much respect for the black man, so whatever partiality the African philosopher may develop for these thinkers must rest mostly on considerations of the truth of their philosophical thought. (Wiredu 1980, p. 49)

Courage being a cardinal virtue in both Akan and Greek Ethics, one wonders why Wiredu as professor of philosophy did not courageously confront his Western philosophical counterparts with the truth about the origin of Western civilization, and especially Western philosophy, if he was sufficiently aware and respectful of the research by Cheikh Diop and others on the contribution of early Black philosophers in Egypt, etc. Unlike Wiredu, Kofi wanted to confront Eurocentrism and its racism, rather than ignore it. 3. The Appiah Way: Deny Biological Bases of Race and Racism. Born in London to an Ashanti prominent attorney and a British mother, and bred in his early formative years in Kumasi, Ghana, Professor Kwame Anthony Appiah is of mixed race, but could not escape European Anti-Black racism when he began studying as a student in Britain, and now as a Professor of philosophy in the USA. Unlike Wiredu who holds his nose and ignores the problem of European racism, Appiah tackles it as a symptom of ignorance about race as a biological construct. Thus, he argues from a biological standpoint to the conclusion that racial divisions are not genetically sound and are therefore arbitrary. Belief in genetically based racial superiority was therefore a form of false consciousness that could and should be cured with the appropriate education. His famous book, In my Father’s House (Appiah 1992), could be interpreted as part of his attempt to educate the public on race and to promote racial tolerance and respect for biological and cultural diversity.

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Another effort was made by Appiah in Ethics of Identity (2005) as well as in Cosmopolitanism: Ethics in a World of Stranger (2006) which made the case for mutual respect and tolerance for all types of identities and cultures despite the differences. Kofi Annan, the former Secretary General of the United Nations, commended the latter book saying, “At its core Cosmopolitanism is a reasoned appeal for mutual respect and understanding among the world’s people;” and hoped it could enhance the work at the United Nations (Annan 2018). Construing Appiah’s position as an elitist or evasive response to the historically and culturally oppressive system of racism in America, some African American Philosophers did not take it kindly at all. Many including, Lucius Outlaw, remonstrated with him or distanced themselves from him and his writings on the subject, and marked him negatively as part of the problem of anti-Black racism in the US, rather than part of the solution. (Appiah 2003) While Appiah’s intention of undermining Eurocentrism by undermining the biological bases of race or racialism was noble, it is also clear, and he should have known, that his academic approach could not move racist organizations like the White Nationalists, the Skin Heads or the KKK who continue to disrespect and torment African Americans both physically, psychologically, and politically.

4. Molefi Kete Asante Way: Afrocentric Alternative to Eurocentrism. Instead of deconstructing or critiquing Eurocentrism and its racism and cultural bias, etc., Professor Asante has devoted decades of his professional life toward the construction of an African alternative to Eurocentrism which he terms Afrocentricity or Afrocentrism, meaning an African-centered worldview or way of life. Given that Africa’s contribution to world civilization has been largely denied or marginalized, a scholarly approach to refocusing on Africa’s history, philosophy, science, etc., or its contribution to world civilization, should be received as a welcomed contribution to universal education by Kofi or any Black African philosopher. Unfortunately, Professor Asante by his own admission is not committed to discovering and sharing objective truth about Africa. In his book (Commitment to Civil Society) he quotes Garvey with approval saying, “Marcus Garvey had it right, ‘The white man has out propagandized us.’”. Instead of rejecting propaganda as a scholar and condemning its use by Europeans, professor Asante rather states without any sense of shame or compulsion, “We must engage in a persistent and consistent propaganda of the value of Pan Africanism as a viable strategy in defense of Afrocentric solidarity” (Asante 2009). This professor knows or should know that propaganda is by definition, a pejorative, and an obstacle to critical thinking and the scientific method in the search for truth. For as, the Oxford Dictionary defines it “propaganda” means “Information, especially of a biased or misleading nature, used to promote or publicize a particular political cause or point of view.” Below are two examples of how Asante wants to use propaganda in promoting Afrocentrism:

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J. Osei Let us begin with new maps of the world where all of the maps place Africa in the center of the world. This is what every nation does anyway and now the continent will soon become one nation. So let the business people, and geographers, who are in cartography produce what we need to teach the children of Africa. Let us create universities that are Afrocentric, not Eurocentric, where the central narrative from the past to the future is Africa. (Asante 2009)

Another example exaggerating the contribution of Africans to global civilization in the name of Afrocentrism is this: We have given to the world superior artists, creative novelists, competitive athletes in all sports, wise philosophers, incomparable engineers and space scientists, gifted mathematicians, impressive sailors who have rounded the earth alone, noble historians, and unselfish politicians. The grand names of our military leaders, Mena, Thutmoses III, Ramses II, Hannibal, Nana Karikari, Yenenga, Nzingha, Shaka, Toussaint L’Ouverture, Dessalines, Nanny, Nat Turner, Sundiata, Uthman dan Fodio, Mzilikazi, Lat Dior, Zumbi and a thousand others must be resurrected and remembered by our own historians. We must now embrace our mutual heritage and claim the entirety of our African nationality. (Asante 2009)

As every student of logic and critical knows or should know, two wrongs don’t make a right. In other words, it is a logical fallacy to assume that just because Europeans used propaganda to weaken, dominate, and exploit Africa, it is right for Africans in turn to use counter-propaganda in the hope of restoring Africa’s past glory as a foundation for its future development or resurrection (Asante 2009). What good will it do the young African student to be told Jesus was black in high school, and he gets to college to find through independent research that Jesus was not black but a typical Jew. How can he continue to trust this high school Afrocentric teacher or any other Afrocentric scholar once he learns that Afrocentrism embraces propaganda like Eurocentrism? (Asante 2009). How should Kofi respond to this? Embracing it might win him the friendship of Asante and like-minded Afrocentrics, but at the cost of objectivity as a critical thinker and a philosopher. On the other hand, embracing it saves his sanity as a critical thinker and a philosopher, but at the cost of the friendship or acceptance of Asante and likeminded Afrocentrics. Since neither consequence is acceptable, and no third option is open or realistice, Kofi is locked in the horns of a dilemma. 5. The Gail Presbey Way: Acknowledge Egyptian Contribution and Highlight Kant’s Rejection of Racism in His Mature Writings. Although not an African by birth or naturalization, Professor Gail Presbey has been researching and writing on Africa philosophy for almost three decades. It is no exaggeration to state she has traveled extensively from North to South, and from East to West Africa as a research scholar. Presbey agrees with the renowned Egyptologist Professor, Kurt Baier, when he argues in support of the Egyptian origin of philosophy, with reference to the most ancient philosophical document that comes from the Middle Kingdom of Egypt. Written in hieratic script, “The Dispute of a Man with his Soul” (Papyrus #3024) is now housed in the Berlin Museum. The scenario is a court setting similar to the Athenian court setting where Socrates defended himself

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against his accusers. The man’s soul in this manuscript takes him to court, charging him with multiple cases of attempted suicide. The Soul gives his arguments counseling against the morality of suicide similar to what Kant does in one of the examples of the application of his Second Principle or Interpretation of The Categorical Imperative (Presbey 2003, p. 7). While Professor Presbey acknowledges the negativity of Eurocentrism and its impact on Africa’s underdevelopment, she also thinks, Afrocentrism is also too extreme since not all of the major European philosophers were as racist as charged. For example, she has shared with Kofi some interesting research materials that at least suggest Kantian his more matured years and writings may have regretted his racist remarks in his earlier writings and reflected a more respectful regard for all races (Kleingeld 2007). Kofi has done some independent research that seems to confirm Presbey’s thesis. The problem for Kofi is that even Kant’s alleged “repentance” from racism becomes well established in the academic world, one would still have to deal with many other philosophers with similar Anti-Black racist and extreme Eurocentric views not only in the past, but also in the present. Besides Plato and Aristotle, the list includes Hume, Karl Marx, and especially Hegel who regards the African as subhuman. Moreover, acknowledging Kant’s moral transformation from racism will make little or no difference to the plight of Blacks, including Kofi. As nativists with Eurocentric views are growing in numbers and popularity both in Europe and the USA, extreme hatred is becoming frequent and more dangerous. The situation seems to be getting worse rather than better as we proceed further into the twenty-first century in what appears to be a clash of cultures between Eurocentrics and Afrocentrics, and worst of all between Eurocentrics and Caliphatecentrics, the extremist cultural worldview among many Islamic fundamentalists based on the ideology of a Caliphate or revival of a Middle-Ages vision for a globally dominant Islamic Kingdom. 6. The George James Way: Highlight “The Stolen Legacy” Narrative for Black Redemption. According to George James, An African American author of the 1950s everything the Greeks knew and taught they stole from Africa making “Greek philosophy” “Egyptian philosophy” (James p. 153). Emotionalism and hyperbole may have their place in some form of literature but definitely not in philosophical discourse. This is especially so when dealing with such a sensitive issue as the origin of science and philosophy, given the socio-psychological investments made by both the Eurocentric and the Afrocentric. If James is right in claiming that everything they knew and taught were stolen from Egypt, that would mean that the Greeks did not add, delete, interpret, modify, analyze, edit, deconstruct, or reconstruct any manuscript or documents they received from Egypt. But that would be almost unthinkable in philosophy where critical theory is applied to virtually every received nor conceived ideas. That George James lost his philosophical “cool,” and got emotionally carried away by his discovery also becomes evident in the following quote in the introduction to his book, the Stolen Legacy:

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J. Osei Now that it has been shown that philosophy and the arts and sciences were bequeathed to civilization by the people of North Africa and not by the people of Greece; the pendulum of praise and honor is due to shift from the people of Greece to the people of African continent who are the rightful heirs of such praise and honor. Further, this is going to mean a tremendous change in world opinion, and attitude, for all people and races who accept the new philosophy of African redemption, i.e. the truth that the Greeks were not the authors of Greek Philosophy; but the people of North Africa; would change their opinion from one of disrespect for the Black people throughout the world and treat them accordingly (James 1954, ibid).

James does not stop here but goes on to predict a similar change of mentality among Black People. “It is going to mean a most important change in the mentality of the Black people: Change from an inferiority with other great peoples of the world, who have built great civilizations” (James ibid). This transformation he predicts, “will affect their social attitudes towards each other, and the society as a whole.” (James ibid). Far from being fulfilled James’s vision has been undermined by Eurocentrics, especially the radical neo-conservatives and white supremacists and their pseudo-scholars outside mainstream philosophy who use the internet and mass media to spew their tacit propaganda. 7. Kofi’s Way. A Defense of the Black hypothesis. With the benefit of hindsight and learning from others mistakes as found in the preceding six alternative responses, Kofi has devised a new response that will neither ignore, nor dilute Eurocentrism, or use propaganda or hyperbole to reconstruct a glorified African history. Kofi’s way is therefore an alternative response that will challenge the key tenets of Eurocentrism, based on sound philosophical reasoning and empirically verifiable and verified objective facts. Hence, unlike George James who was apparently emotionally overwhelmed by his discoveries to conclude that all that Europeans claim to know in science and philosophy, they stole from Egypt, Kofi makes the modest claim that most of the key concepts in science and philosophy associated with the early Greeks were studied or “borrowed” from ancient Egyptians who were not white or mixed, but black. We will now proceed to Section III where Kofi demonstrates his proof for the Black hypothesis. Given the sensitive nature of the issue between Eurocentrics and Afrocentrics, it becomes imperative for us to approach it with the objectivity of an ideal observer who has no preconceived ideas on either side of the dispute and has no motivation to be partial or biased. Kofi proceeds now systematically using a deductive argument structure in logical outline, and adopts a jurisprudential approach in which interrogative questions are raised as in a legal disputation context. Kofi hopes to show that the answers and their supporting arguments together constitute a Bayesian -type of C-inductive cumulative argument for the probability of the hypothesis that modern philosophies and science have their origin in Black philosophy. Thus, what Kofi is attempting to prove statistically is that: {pr (BH.k\el..n) > pr (-BH.k)}; where BH = Black hypothesis and -BH= NonBlack hypothesis} (Bayes’ Theorem 2018).

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An Argument for the Black African Hypothesis Let = “grew out of” or, “. . .is the offspring of.” Examples of modern philosophies: French philosophy, German philosophy, British philosophy, American philosophy. P1. Modern Philosophies Ancient Greek Philosophy (Russell 1945) See Cf. “Western Civilization is no more than footnotes to Plato.” Alfred North Whitehead. www.age-of-the-sage.org/philosophy/footnotes_plato.html P2. Ancient Greek philosophy, Ancient Egyptian philosophy. (See arguments and responses to the four questions below; especially, references to Russell, the Rhind Mathematical Papyrus, The Book of the Dead, James Burnett, Sir Isaac Newton, Herodotus, and Isocrates. “The Whistle blower.”) P3. / modern philosophies Ancient Egyptian philosophy [P1–P2, by H.S.] P4. Historically, no ancient people have been associated with philosophy prior to the Egyptians of the Old Kingdom. (2614 BC–2181 BC.) The age of Chinese classical philosophy is centered around 700 BC. http://www.ancient-china-his tory.com/chinese-philosophy.html P5. The first philosophers were Ancient Egyptians (P3–P4). P6. The ancient Egyptians in question were not white but Black Africans. (See below Arguments based on accounts of Herodotus, Cheikh Anta Diop involving DNA of Egyptian mummies, and references to Ancient Egyptian Sculptures and their cultural artifacts and their similarities to languages, names of gods and people, and traditional practices in West Africa.) Conclusion: Therefore, the First philosophers, were Black Africans.

Empirical Support for P2 via a Jurisprudential Interrogative Approach Q1. Did the Ancient Egyptians have a Philosophical System? Philosophical activities include inquiry into Metaphysics, Epistemology, and Value, especially Ethics and Aesthetics, and the method of reasoning involve logical or mathematical deductions and inferences. In this section, Kofi wants to show that the Ancient Egyptians indeed had all these three basic elements of philosophical inquiry and did develop and use logical and mathematical reasoning.

Mathematics and Logic In the middle of the nineteenth century, precisely 1958, the British public became aware of an Egyptian document later identified as The mathematical Pyrus. The papyrus, written in about 1650 by ancient Egyptians, was in the private collection of a British scholar, Henry Rhind. It contained 40 arithmetical problems in

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four sections. The arithmetic dealt with decimals as well as fractions and how to solve problems of volumes of pyramids and cylinders. But the more incredible work is to be found in their contribution to pure geometry when, among other things, they articulated the five basic propositions in geometry: 1. The so-called Pythagoras Theorem: The square of the hypothenus of a right triangle is equal to the sum of the squares on the sides containing the right angle. 2. The three angles of a triangle are together equal to two right angles. 3. The vertical angles of two straight lines cutting each other are equal. 4. The vertical angles of two straight lines cutting each other are equal. 5. If a straight line is cut into equal and unequal segments the rectangle contained by the unequal segments of the whole, together with the square on the straight line between the points of the section, is equal to the square on the half (The Oxyrthynchus papyrus). Among other geometrical concepts, it is also worth noting that the ancient Egyptians gave Pi the value 3 13/8. If a diameter is marked or divided into 9 units, they calculated, the circle drawn around it was equal to the square on the line with 8 units. (Find below their conception and use of the Doctrine of Opposites – a basic logical schema later called dialectics).

Science and Metaphysics Another interesting papyrus in this regard is known as the Edwin Papyrus, named after the American pioneer in Egyptian Science, Edwin Smith, who was acquired it in Luxor in 1862. Upon Smith’s death in 1906, the papyrus was given to the New York Historical Society and turned over to U.S. Egyptologist James Henry Breasted in 1920 for study. (Britannica 2018). Dated at least 4000–3000 BC, this ancient Egyptian papyrus contained both theoretical and practical knowledge of various scientific principles and technologies, especially in medicine, chemistry, metallurgy, gold smiting, glass making, beads making, physics, and of course architecture as evident in the construction of the gigantic temples and pyramids. For instance, they knew that to make bronze alloy hardened, one needed a ratio of 12% tin. 1. Doctrine of Creation: The Egyptians speculated about nature and reached the concluded that the universe is the work of an intelligent creator who brought the universe into being out of nothing (ex-nihilo). This Creator God, according to the Egyptian School at Memphite, was known as Ptah, or the God of gods. It was Ptah who started the process of creation when there was no order until the emergence of the god Atum Ra at his command, through his daughter Tefnut. (Incidentally, the family god in Kofi’s paternal house in West Africa is also called Taa kora; meaning the Taa, the old man).

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Fig. 1 The Four Elements and Qualities

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HOT

FIRE

WET

DRY

WATER

COLD

EARTH

2. Doctrine of Opposites: The Memphite School postulated the Doctrine of Opposites which maintained that for everything there is or there must be an opposing counterpart: Hence for every male god, there must be a corresponding female god/goddess: Nun and Naunet (for Water and Heaven); Huk and Haulet (Boundless and Limited); Amum and Amaumet (The Visible and the Invisible le); Kuk and Kauket (Darkness and Light); etc. (James 1965, pp. 139, 169). Thus, within Memphite theology or cosmology, creation is explicable in terms of the thought and command of Ptah. We can also infer from their cosmology that they had identified many basic elements of nature such as (1) Water (Nun), (2) Boundless (Huk), (3) Air (Shu), (4) Fire (Atum), (5) The Mind (Khu), (6) Chaos and Order, the later in the form of Tefnut, Ptah’s daughter. The Ancient Egyptians did not only speculate about nature or cosmos, they also tried to analyze natural phenomena in terms of the basic elements and their qualities and the relations among them. The Memphite School for example, had a theory about the Four Qualities and the Four Elements and depicted them diagrammatically as in Fig. 1. (A square with another square inside, on its axis like a diamond.) The Ancient Greeks and most contemporary philosophers refer to it as the Mystery System, implying they did not fully understand it. Properly understood however, it is no mystery. Rather, it is a logical or graphic representation of the origin of (a) The Egyptian Doctrine of Opposites or Contraries, (b) The Doctrine of Change and Mutation, as well as (c) Egyptian cosmological speculation about basic or ultimate reality as fire, water, earth, and air. They offered competing explanations of basic elements and their qualities or properties. Closely examined, we see in this diagram that: 1. The ancient theory was expressed by two squares, one placed on its axis or angles inside the other. 2. The corners of the outer square carried the names of their four elements: fire, water, earth, and air.

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3. The corners of the inner square, being at the mid-points of the sides of the outer square, carried the four fundamental qualities: hot, dry, cold, and wet. 4. The Diagram shows that fire can be both hot and dry; earth can be both dry and cold; water can also be cold and wet; while air can be wet and hot. 5. Therefore, since water is an embodiment of cold and wet qualities, when the cold quality is replaced by hot quality, the element water is changed or transformed into the element air, with the wet and hot qualities (which we call steam). 6. The change or transformation from water to air therefore illustrates the Doctrine of Transmutation in Egyptian analysis of natural phenomena. By current standards in physics, the exactness of some of these doctrines may be questionable, but the main point in this discussion will still be valid; which is that these early Egyptians were the first to initiate these speculations into nature which eventually evolved into modern science. 3. Doctrine of Human Nature and Immortality The Egyptians speculated deeply about human nature in general and particularly immortality. The human, they believed, was not just a physical being but a psychosomatic being, having body and soul. The Egyptian word for body is Khat and for Soul is Ba. Ba was believed to have human characteristics such as consciousness, rationality, and will. It is therefore distinguishable from Ka which is the conceptual replica or form of physical reality created by Ptah with the assistance of Atum. The Egyptians also used the term Khu (mind) to refer to the shining part of man that bridges the gap between the human being, the supernatural being (God), and the body (Khat). At death, they believe, the body disintegrates (unless preserved through mummification), but the real self, or Ka survives. This provides an explanation for the elaborate funerals and tombs for the dead, as well as the worship or veneration of ancestors. Within the Ka is the Khu (mind or pure intelligence) which links man to God. Khu is therefore by definition divine or spiritual. Since the soul, according to this doctrine, is imprisoned within the body, it is impossible for it to achieve pure intelligence until the death of the individual. Death for the Egyptian then was far from being a tragedy; it was perceived as the means to the highest good which is salvation or separation of the Khat (body) from the Ka (the form or conceptual replica of the soul). Furthermore, the Egyptians believed that the soul is immortal and could return to earth through rebirth or reincarnation. They also believed that, not only humans, but every living thing has a soul or spirit within it. Hence, it could be said that they were animistic. This however does not mean that they were pantheistic since they did not consider all living things or everything as God or part of God. It is interesting to note parenthetically here that all of these doctrines about human nature, immortality, reincarnation, and animism are equivalent or very similar to the traditional beliefs of most Africans, especially, West Africans. In his paper, “Hebrewisms” in West Africa, a Ghanaian Professor of Religion, Kwasi A Dickson, identified several conceptual and cultural similarities between West African and Ancient Jewish cultures,

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including their worldviews. Examples include belief in Supreme Being as Creator and gods, chieftaincy, clan linage, circumcision, family marriages, totemism, reincarnation, elaborate funerals Story-telling for moral teaching and proverbs, etc. (Dickson 1969). If he had pursued the research further to find the causal explanation, he would most likely have found that the causal factor is Egyptian influence since historically both the ancient Hebrews and ancient West Africans were centuries ago, resident in Ancient Egypt during the Middle Kingdom or earlier.

Egyptian Ethics and Its Application to Law and Politics In 1992, Mayfield publisher in the USA published readings in non-Western moral and political philosophy under the title Beyond the Western Tradition (Also available is The History of Philosophy in ancient Egypt, Article By Julian Scott, posted by UK, September 7, 2016). Within the first section reserved for Africa, there are nine partial or full reprints of ancient Egyptian ethical writings translated from the original Hieroglyphics including these five titles: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

The Autobiography of Harkuf The Instruction of Ptahhoteb The Instruction Addressed to King Merikare The Instruction of Any The Instruction of Amenemope

Similar translated reprints can also be found in Ancient Egyptian Literature, Volume1, 1973 and Vol. II, 1976, edited by Miriam Lichthelm. Also available is Philosophy in Egypt, Article by Julian Scott, UK, Septemebr 7, 2016 For the lack of space, only few of these documents will be highlighted and recommended for your further reading. The earliest of the nine Egyptian writings mentioned is The Autobiography of Harkuf, which dates as far back as 2300 BC, during the sixth Dynasty in Egypt. In this document, Harkuf argues that he deserves eternal reward since he did all that a good person was supposed to doing his society. To support his argument, he cites examples of his contributions to the society as premises: P1. “I have built a house P2. I have dug a pool. P3. I have planted sycamores.” As further supporting evidence he states, P4. “The King praised me, P5. My father made a will for me. P6. My mother praised me.” As if that were not convincing enough, the King makes references to other benevolent acts he had done for his society. P7. “I gave bread to the hungry, clothing to the naked, and I brought the boat-less to land. P8. I was one who spoke fairly, who repeated what was like, P9. I never spoke evil against any man to his superior, for I wished to stand well with the great God. P10. “Never did I judge between two contenders in a manner which deprived a son of his father’s legacy” (Bonevac et al. 1992). From the King’s argument, one can infer some of the basic values and virtue in ancient Egyptian ethics: Leading a productive life, being respected or appreciated by

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one’s king and family, generosity toward the needy, and truthfulness and justice as fairness to all people. The overall rationale for pursuing the morally good life or being virtuous is also given as: “in order to stand well with the great God.” In contemporary philosophical terms, one can say, their moral theory is the Divine Command Theory which aims at knowing and doing the will of God, the similarities between some of their ethical teachings – especially P7 and those of the New Testament, including Matthew 25: 35–36 are remarkable. In the second document, “The Instruction of Ptahhotep,” one finds not just a whole list of vices to be avoided, but also reasons why they should be avoided. Justice is often cited as one of the reasons, but justice is to be pursued, they argue, not for its own sake but for its lasting good consequences just like how a utilitarian like J.S. Mill would argue. For example, they have inunctions such as “Don’t be proud of your knowledge, consult the ignorant and the wise; The limits of art are not reached, (since) no artist’s skills are perfect. . . If you meet a disputant in action (who is more powerful and superior to you,) fold your arms, bend your back. . .. By not opposing him while he is in action, he will be called ignoramus. Your self-control will match his pile of words.” For politicians and judges, the author offers advice which might well be termed social and political philosophy. Examples include: “If you are a man who leads, who controls the affairs of many, seek out every beneficent deed, that your conduct may be blames. Great is justice, lasting in effect, unchallenged since the time of Osiris. One punishes the transgressor of laws though the greedy overlooks this baseness which may seize riches, yet crime never lands its wares. In the end, it is justice that lasts. . .” Their emphasis on the primacy of the principle of justice is comparable to what every student of social and political philosophy knows. “The primary virtue of every society,” John Rawls would say in agreement with Aristotle, “is justice” (Rawls 1971, p. 2). Similarly, the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King also states with hope in his struggle for social justice: “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice” (King 1967). Other examples of moral injunctions with their moral justification include: Do not scheme against people, God punishes accordingly; If you are a wise man who leads, listen calmly to the speech of the one who pleads; don’t stop him from purging his body of what he planned to tell. A man in distress wants to pour out his heart, more than that his case be won. . . Not all one pleads can be granted. But a good hearing soothes the heart. (cf. modern theories of counseling and listening skills).

The author also has a sound advice for those who like Ayn Rand and her followers who think selfishness and greed are good or even virtuous: If you want a perfect life, to be free from every evil, guard against the vice of greed.: It is a grievous sickness without cure, there is no treatment for it. It embroils fathers. .., it parts wife from husband; it is a bundle of all hateful things.

For kings and all other rulers or political leaders the author has this sound advice: That man endures whose rule is rightness who walks a straight line; he will make a will by it, (but) the greedy has no tomb.

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The third document, The Installation of the Vizier Rekmire, is also full of golden nuggets of principles of political philosophy and jurisprudence or the philosophy of law: If you are a political leader or judge: 1. See to it that all is done according to law, that all is done right in giving a man his vindication, (because the magistrate judges in public and so “wind and water report all that he does. . .” 2. Do not judge unfairly, God abhors partiality. . . 3. Regard one you know like you don’t know, one near you as one far from you. “The magistrate who acts like this will succeed in this place.” Now it may interest you to know why the traditional Africa, despite poverty still wants to have more children: The Instruction of any teaches these principles: Take a wife while you are young, that she may make a son for you. She should bear you (the son) while you are youthful. It is proper to make people. Happy the man whose people are many. He is saluted on account of his progeny.” (Instruction of any)

One reads in the Book of the Dead, arguments by individuals who want to convince the Divine judge that they deserve reward rather than punishment for their moral life on earth. Some of the vices they are supposed to avoid and the virtues they were supposed to cultivate and live by are exemplified in the following ethical principles: 1. 2. 3. 4.

“Do not do evil to man and so cause another to do it to you.” “I have given bread to the hungry, water to the thirsty, clothes to the naked.” “Do not say I am learned, set yourself to become wise.” “Do not do a thing that you have not examined.”

It does not take much reflection to recognize the similarities that these bear to some of the familiar new Testament principles such h as the golden rule and The Parable of the Final Judgment involving the separation of sheep from goats in Matthew Cha 25: 31–46. (3) and (4) are also well-known philosophical principles associated with Socrates. From this brief survey Egyptian writings, ranging over mathematics and logic, science and metaphysics, as well as ethics, it must be evident that indeed the Egyptians had a philosophical system. Although it had more religious images and symbolisms than contemporary philosophy, it will be a grievous intellectual error to dismiss all their teachings as mysticism or superstitious beliefs since similar religious images and symbols are evident in the works of the early Greek philosophers including Socrates and Plato. Let’s now turn to the second question. Q2. Did any of the early Greek philosophers have access to Egyptian Philosophical ideas? The answer is yes. A good number of the most influential ancient Greek philosophers had more than a casual access to Egyptian philosophy or Mystery System.

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Here is an incomplete list of those known to have studied philosophy or mysteries in Egypt. Thales (640 BC.), who is often credited with the founding of philosophy, and his associates, Anximander, Anazimenes, natives of Ionia, studied in Egypt for a considerable number of years according to Sanford’s The Mediterranean World. These scholars established Egyptian Mystery School Systems on their return and influenced other Pre-Socratic philosophers such as Xenophanes (576 BC.), Parmenides, Zeno, Melissus, Empedocles, Anaxagoras, and Democritus in Ionia. Democritus is on recorded as having spent 5 years in Egypt studying both astronomy and geometry. Later he moved to Elea in southern Italy to spread the new teachings which subsequently reached Athens. Pythagoras: Credited by other Western philosophers to be the father of philosophy, he is also known to have stayed in Egypt for as long as 22 years studying mathematics and the Egyptian mystery systems. On this return, he founded the Pythagorean School which spread throughout Southern Europe and survived long after his death. As an initiate of the Egyptian Mystery school, he was qualified to be called a wise man, but instead he preferred to be called “a lover of wisdom”; The term “philosopher” stems from the synthesization of the two words into: “The lover of wisdom.” Xenophanes, Permenides, Zeno, and Melissus (all of them natives of Ionia) migrated to Elaea, Italy, after completing their education in Egypt. Socrates: Relatively speaking, it is harder to make the case that Socrates studied in Ancient Egypt than to make it for Pythagoras, Plato, or Aristotle. The explanation is that he himself did not write his philosophical doctrines or their sources. There one would have to relay one circumstantial evidence. The Encyclopedia of Philosophy states that nothing is known about his early life. However, there is enough circumstantial evidence to suggest that either he studied in Egypt or he studied in one of the mystery schools founded by those who did. For, among other reasons we know that he lived a virtually secret life for 40 years, and when he appeared in public as a teacher, he was called a wise man just like all the other initiates of the Egyptian mystery schools. One of his favorite themes was: “Man Know thyself.” But this wise saying had a clear Egyptian origin where it was written on the entrance to some Temples where they taught their philosophy and science under the guise of religious mysticism or magic. Second, we know that Socrates’ teachings were generally considered to be foreign, anti-social, and disloyal to the state, so they most likely originated from Egypt where such ideas were prevalent and the norm. Among his charges at his trial was the claim that he had introduced foreign gods and their ideas into the country and was polluting the minds of the youth and inciting disobedience to their authority through his strange method of teaching. For these reasons, he was adjudicated and sentenced to death. His life of secrecy, poverty, humility in refusing to be called wise or knowledgeable, and his insistence on paying his debt to the state after his treason trial by drinking the poison – instead of escaping with the assistance of his friends or brothers – strongly suggest access to Egyptian philosophical teachings. In the case of Plato, there is no secret. The Encyclopedia of Philosophy, the most authoritative of all philosophical works in the Western tradition, states that Plato “probably” studied in Egypt. The caution is in order, since these are empirical claims about events over 2000 years ago. However, it is also known that according to

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Diogene’s Laertius Book VIII (pp. 399–401) when Plato visited Dionysius at Sicily, he paid a Pythagorean by the name Philolaus, 40 Alexandrian Minae of silver, for a book, and it was from this book that he copied the Timaeus, If you still have any lingering doubts about his access, suspend your judgment till we examine some of the detail of his writing below. Aristotle: The case of Aristotle represents the most dramatic of all the cases of access to Egyptian philosophy. Aristotle became the tutor of Alexander when the later was 13 years old. Aristotle is known to have accompanied Alexander on the military expeditions that made him the “the Great.” As his advisor, when Alexander invaded and captured Egypt in 332 BC, he seized thousands of Egyptian books or manuscripts from their libraries and placed them in the library under the custody of Aristotle at one of their academic centers in a city which he renamed in his own honor (still called Alexandria to this day in Northern Egypt). On his orders, several Greeks came to study in Alexandrian, where they were taught by Egyptian teachers. After Alexander the Great, the Ptolemies continued this tradition for at least 300 years (James 1954, pp. 172–173). If you want a rational and historical explanation for how Aristotle’s name came to be associated with 400–1000 books or manuscripts in a lifetime, you have it. On the other hand, if you prefer to believe that in the absence of computers, word processors, or the simple typewriter, any individual in the third century BCE, however gifted, could write 400–1000 books or even book chapters, ranging over all basic branches of philosophy as well as the basic sciences and the arts, the choice is yours. Given the tendency to exaggerate our own cultural or racial achievements and to deny or underestimate the contribution of other cultures or races, as noted in the controversy between Eurocentrics and Afrocentrics, a word of caution is necessary on this conclusion. This conclusion about the Egyptian source of Aristotle’s philosophy and books does not mean Aristotle didn’t make any contribution of his own to philosophy. There should be no doubt that he spent at least 20 years of his time in Egypt and in Athens not just teaching the “received” doctrines but also doing critical analysis, reconstruction, editing, textual explications or interpretation, as well as application of the “received” legacy to many other fields in science and art. Considering all these cases, from Thales through Pythagoras, and Plato to Alexander, we can answer the second question with a resounding yes! The ancient Greeks gained direct and indirect access to Egyptian philosophy by going to Egypt to study or by studying under those who went there to study and brought back several Egyptian books or manuscripts. It is also possible that although they had this exposure, they rejected or ignored them and so cannot be said to have benefited from the Egyptian ideas. And so we must attempt to answer the third question. Q3. Is there any evidence of Egyptian philosophical influence in the writings of the ancient Greeks? Space will fail us in any attempt to do a thorough comparison here. But just to support an affirmative answer and to arouse your appetite for more, here are a few highlights of Egyptians influences on the Greek philosophers.

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Fig. 2 Pythagoras used this Tetractys to illustrate his belief that understanding the universe is possible only with mathematics or numbers

1. Thales. He held the belief that water was the fundamental stuff underlying the universe. This, however, was one of the postulates in the Egyptian Mystery System as shown in the diagram above (Fig. 1) where Nun or water is claimed to be the basic reality. 2. Anaximander of Miletus: He was a student of Thales and head Aperies or the infinite of the boundless as the basic reality. This was, however, an adoption of eh Egyptian concept Huk (boundless). 3. Anaximenes of Miletus: He also believed that air was the basic stuff of the universe. The original teachers of this idea were however the Egyptians who taught that Shur (Air God) was the life force or the life-giving spirit. 4. Heraclitus: He also believed that fire is the basic element: but this notion can be traced back to the Egyptian concept of Atum (Fire). 5. Pythagoras: He held that the universe is basically mathematical or explicable in mathematical terms. This can be traced to the harmony he found in music as well as numbers 1–10 arranged in a pyramid cal/triangular form with 5 at the base then 4, 4, and 1 at the top (see Fig. 2). He also taught the theory of the transmigration of the soul or the so-called Orphic doctrine. Since both Orphic and Pythagoras had studied under the Egyptian priestphilosophers, neither of them can claim originality to these doctrines. And as evident in the Rhind Papyrus, Pythagoras can no longer be given the credit for the mathematical theorem that to this day bears his name. (Diogenes Laertius Book IX, pp. 443–455) 6. Xenophanes: He was the first Greek to teach the doctrine of the One God. His monism was, however, not original; hierarchy of beings, and Ptah was the Supreme Being who created all things. 7. Parmenides: Like Xenophanes, he believed in monism and he also believed like the Egyptians did that the earth was spherical. 8. Anaxagoras: He believed that the initiator of motion was the mind (nous). This was however the original idea of the Egyptians who referred to the mind as Khu. It is also interesting to note that both the Egyptians and the Greeks identified the

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mind with the Soul, like Anaximenes in (3) above, he also believed that Air was the pervasive of all the elements (Turner 1903, pp. 65–70). 9. Democritus: He is famous for the theory of atoms which states that the most basic elements of the universe are atoms. The human body like everything else is composed of atoms: heavy and light. The heavier atoms descend to the earth, but the light or soul atoms (composed of fire) ascend to the celestial regions from where they came (Alexander 1908, pp. 40–42). 10. Socrates: Ethics and dialectics. His popular teachings such as “The unexamined life is not worth-living.” “Man Know Thyself,” “Justice is paying one’s debt,” and “Humility as a virtue of the wise” were all well known within Egyptian philosophy which the Greeks mistakenly called “mystery schools.” The dialectics were of course the application of the Doctrine of Opposites in argumentation (Zeller 1881, 76–83). 11. Plato: He is famous for the doctrine of the Forms, as well as The Republic. We learn from philosophy textbooks that the doctrine of the forms was his synthesis of the doctrines of Heraclites who believed that everything is in a flux and Parmenides who believed that everything is permanent. We are however not told that the idea of form directly corresponds with the Egyptian concept of Ka which as shown above is God’s concept of every abstract or material entity. The Republic is divided into three social classes: (a) The philosopher King and the guardians (b) The soldiers (c) The artisans or workers These three classes were clearly identifiable in Egypt where the Kings and the priests served as the rulers, the soldiers protected from internal and external forces of disorder, while the artisan worked on farms, tombs, and temples, etc. In any case, Pythagoras who had visited Egypt prior to Plato’s visit identified these three levels as consisting of the spectators (philosophers), the athletes (Soldiers), and the peddlers (laborers and artisans). Plato’s doctrine of the human person is also basically Egyptian. Man consists of a body and a soul which is immortal, he argued. He also, like Pythagoras, believed in both the immortality and transmigration of the soul. Plato also adopted the Egyptian concept of Concept of Creation and identified Atum and Demiurge as the God of creation. He also accepted the Egyptian theory of salvation or the release of the soul from the body as eh highest good through contemplation. Philosophical contemplation, in his view, brings one closet to this ideal which will become evident in the contemplator’s moral Behavior. Thus, he believed like the Egyptians that the godly person is a good person. 12. Aristotle: His concept of the “Unmoved Mover” has been traced to the Egyptian theory of creation in which Ptah acting through his mind and word is the Unmoved Mover of everything that exists or moves. A lot of his writings are

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commentaries on ideas already known in Plato, his teacher as well as Socrates and the Pre-Socrates including the Doctrine of the forms and the Soul. Aristotle identified four cardinal virtues. All of them are, however, virtues listed among the ten cardinal virtues of the Egyptians. The most rational explanation for this, I submit, is to accept the theory that he is not the author of all the books associated with his name, and that he received most of these from Egypt as a result of the Egyptian invasion led by Alexander the Great in 332 BC. We now come to the final question in this section. Q4. Is there any confirmation or corroboration of the claim that the Greeks benefited significantly from the Egyptians from other Ancient, Modern, or Contemporary Scholars? This position is obviously contrary to the Eurocentric worldview and is not very popular within mainstream philosophy, but the explanation is best left to your imagination or further research. Apart from George James who published The Stolen Legacy in 1954, many other respectable African and African-American philosophers and other scholars including W.E. Dubois, Kwame Nkrumah, Cheikh Anta Diop, Henry Olera, Lancinay Keita, and Lucius Outlaw hold this position regarding significant influence and have written papers or books to argue for it. Others simply ignore such issues in view of the political or ideological implications, while some don’t feel competent to handle it because of their lack of familiarity with Egyptian or African belief systems. Introducing his History of Philosophy, Bertrand Russell, the world’s most outstanding contemporary philosopher, until his death in 1986, came close to acknowledging this Egyptian connection, but then waffled and ended up with self-contradictions. He opens the first Chapter admitting the dubious nature of the Greek origin of philosophy: In history, nothing is so surprising or so difficult to account for as the sudden rise of civilization in Greece. Much of what makes civilizations had already existed for thousands of years in Egypt and in Mesopotamia and had spread thence to neighboring countries. But certain elements had been lacking until the Greeks supplied them. What they achieved in art and literature is familiar to everybody, but what they did in purely intellectual realm is even more exceptional. They invented mathematics and science and philosophy. (Russell 1945, Intro to Chap. 1)

It is not clear what happened after Russel made this statement. Did he realize himself how wrong it was, or did someone tell or remind him about Egyptian mathematics? Not sure, but he inserts and an asterisk on the word “mathematics” and the notes under the asterisk reads: Arithmetic and some Geometry existed among the Egyptians and Babylonians, but mainly in the form of rules of thumb. Deductive reasoning from general premises was a Greek innovation. (Russell 1945 ibid)

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Notice here how Russell tries to water down Egyptian mathematics in order to defend his Eurocentric thesis that mathematics, science, and philosophy started with the Greeks. By so doing, Russell, the master logician, contradicts his own theses in his greatest book Principia Mathematica (1910), co-authored with Alfred North Whitehead, to prove that all mathematics (excepting probabilities) are reducible to logical deductions via set theory. Russell therefore contradicts himself by maintaining that the Egyptians had Arithmetic and Geometry but were incapable or ignorant of deductive reasoning. Furthermore, in the third chapter of this book, Russell talks about Pythagoras and claims that his rarest discovery or that of his immediate disciples was the Pythagoras Theorem which, as we have seen, was discovered by the Egyptians about 2000 years before Pythagoras was born. To defend maintaining this claim in the light of his Eurocentric view, Russell needed to say something about the Egyptian contribution. So once again, we find him trying to water down the Egyptian contribution by claiming: A triangle whose sides are 3,4,5 had a right angle, but apparently, the Greeks were the first to observe that 3 (squared) + 4 (squared) = 5 (squared). Finding the two claims logically incompatible, Russel now resorts to guessing as evident in the expression “apparently.” Hence, one can explain his reluctance to recognize the Egyptian contribution not as the result of a rational argumentation, but as a reflection of his bias in favor of the Greek hypothesis or the Eurocentric view and against the Egyptian/Black hypothesis. The British classical scholar John Burnet, who must have been known to Russel as a contemporary British philosopher, wrote in, The Early Greek Philosophers, in 1928: It must however be remembered that the world was already very old when science and philosophy began. In particular, the Aegean Sea had been the seat of a high civilization form the Neolithic ages onwards, a civilization as ancient as that of Egypt or of Babylon. It is becoming clearer everyday that the Greek civilization was mainly a revival and a continuation of this. . . (Burnet 1920, p. 2)

The implication of this quote, especially the last statement, constitutes a dilemma for Russell. Either Russell was aware of this rational and popular explanation for the Greek civilization or he was not. If he was not, it poses a question for his scholarship as a British historian of philosophy at the time. If he was aware but failed to acknowledge it, it poses a question for his intellectual honesty and hence his scholarship. In either case, his scholarship is being questioned. Further, in his research, Kofi found a book written as far back as 1779 by the British philosopher, Lord James Burnett Monboddo, Ancient Metaphysics, the following quote: But not only did the Egyptians invent the necessary arts of life, and those fine arts I have mentioned, particularly music, but they invented also sciences; one of which, I mean geometry. (Monboddo 1779, p. 86)

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Monboddo places this context by reference to other Egyptian inventions that he has spoken of in a previous volume (vol. VI). He specifically mentions “logic,” and explains its importance saying it is by this that “we are taught to know the operations of our own intellect, and what science truly is.” Next, Monboddo makes the following claim that directly confirms the Egyptian or Black hypothesis in question. But besides the arts and science that I have already mentioned, the Egyptians made great progress in philosophy and even in the highest part of philosophy, that is theology; for it is certain that they knew the doctrine of the Trinity, which Plato learned in Egypt, and also the Doctrine of Ideas. (Monboddo, ibid)

Another principal witness Kofi found was Sir Isaac Newton (1642–1727). According to Newton, who studied physics as part of his philosophy of nature courses, The Egyptians were the first to conceive of the Heliocentric system, i.e., the theory that the earth is the center of the universe but, like the other planets moves in circles around the sun on its own axis. And further, as if to silence once and for all, all those opposing the Egyptian hypothesis Newton declares: The Egyptians were early observers of the heavens; and from them, probably, this philosophy spread among other nations; for from them that it was, and the nations about them, that the Greeks, a people more addicted to the study of philology [i.e. language, translation, etc.]. than of Nature, derived their first as well as their soundest notions of philosophy. (Newton 1979)

While acknowledging that the Egyptian philosophers often used mystical or religious terms and symbolisms in their research and accounts of nature, Newton offers a rational explanation for the practice rather than dismiss them on account of that methodology. . . .and in the vestal (i.e. secret and sacred) ceremonies we may yet trace the ancient spirit of the Egyptian; for it was their way to deliver their mysteries, that is their philosophy of things, about the common way of thinking, under the veil of religious rites and hieroglyphic symbols. (Newton, ibid)

Another principal witness to the Egyptian of Black hypothesis is Herodotus He has been regarded throughout the Western tradition as the father of history for distinctive ability in the Third Century BCE to distinguish mystical or supernatural explanations from scientific explanation: The Egyptian were the first to advance the idea that the soul is immortal and that when the body dies it enter into another animal which is then born.. . . Some Greeks later put this idea as though it were their own; I know their names, but I do not transcribe them.” Herodotus 1928, p. 88)

Herodotus is not only giving credit to the Egyptians for their innovations within the realm of metaphysics but is also accusing some of them of plagiarism. His reluctance to list their names can be explained in terms of fear of retribution from

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the plagiarizers who had now acquired many followers and become powerful in Greece. Additional sources could be cited, but for the lack of space and time. What follows will therefore be the final testimony which the ancient Greek author, Isocrates, presents in the form of a confession. Identified as a contemporary of Plato, Isocrates might well be called in today’s terms, as “a whistle blower” among the ancient Greek philosophers. For he openly admits: I am not the only man or the first to have observed (the piety of the Egyptians) many, both now and in the past, have done so, including Pythagoras of Samos, who went to Egypt and studied with the Egyptians. He was the first to bring philosophy to Greece. (Barnes 2002)

Unlike Herodotus who feared to name any of the Greeks philosophers who studied philosophy from the Egyptians, Isocrates names at least one of them: Pythagoras who is known to have studied in Egypt for 22 years and was responsible for the spread of philosophy in Southern Greece through the Pythagorean schools. Plato mentions Isocrates in his Republic but quickly dismisses him as a sophist as opposed to a philosopher. The explanation for the implicit hostility might well be the result of his whistleblowing; hostility being the most likely reason most people choose to remain silent in the face of obvious injustices including blatant violations of the law (Muir 2015, pp. 18–34). If there is any more reason why we should continue to doubt the origin of Greek philosophy, I leave that to the reader’s best judgment. If Pythagoras was the first Greek philosopher and he went to study philosophy from Egyptian philosophers as Isocrates reveals, then by sheer logical deduction, it follows that the first philosophers were not Greeks but Egyptians. It is confirmed eloquently by Burnett, Monboddo, Newton, Herodotus, and Isocrates. It takes away Russel’s difficulties in accepting the Greek explanation and saves his scholarship from self-contradictions or apparent inconsistencies. From the foregoing, we have more than sufficient evidence, especially from the ancient from the ancient and medieval writers, to support P2 in the master argument which says, ancient Greek philosophy grew out of Egyptian philosophy. Our final question which will help us to confirm or disconfirm P5 or the Black hypothesis, and thus conclude this chapter is this: Q5. Were the ancient Egyptians White or Black? Given centuries of interracial sexual and marriage relationships, it is often hard to distinguish people of one race from another. However, the difference between a typical White person and a typical Black person is as clear as the difference between day and night. One does not therefore need a PhD in philosophy or physiology to make that distinction. Going by the lights of the epistemological Theory of Reliabilism, every normal person with normal eyes and without a prejudicial motive should be able to make the distinction without error. In accordance with this epistemological theory, the best evidence for or against my second thesis that the

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Egyptians were Black must therefore come from reliable eyewitness who physically saw the ancient Egyptians and had no motivation to lie about what they saw. Fortunately, we have, Herodotus (485–425 BCE), the Greek historian renowned in the Western world as “The Father of History,” by virtue of the accuracy of his accounts, his ability to distinguish between facts and myths, as well as his persistence in demanding or finding scientific, rational, or logical explanation for every observed phenomenon. He was so named by Cicero (Herodotus – Ancient History Encyclopedia, https://www.ancient.eu/herodotus/). His book, Histories, which provides the first historical account of the wars between the Greeks and the Persians (490–479), is based on the research materials he collected from Egypt, among other places. It is therefore not surprising that he states that he made at least 13 visits to Egypt in this period. We should therefore find his account credible as coming from a primary source. On at least four separate occasions while dealing with other issues, he makes references to the color of the Egyptians he met in Egypt: 1. To prove that the flooding of the Nile could not be caused by melting snow, he cites, among other reasons he deems valid, this observation: “It is certain that the natives of the country are black with the heat. . .” 2. To demonstrate that the Greek oracle is of Egyptian origin Herodotus argued, “Lastly, by calling the dove black, they (the Dodoneans) indicted that the woman was Egyptian. . .” 3. To prove that the inhabitants of Colchis were of Egyptian origin and had to be part of Sesostris army who had settled in the region, Herodotus states, The Egyptians say that they believed the Colchians to be descended from the army of Sesostris. My own conjectures were founded first on the fact that they are black skinned and have woolly hair.

4. Finally, in describing the Pandean people of India who are darker than the rest of the Indians, Herodotus pointed out. “They all have the same tint of skin, which approaches that of the Ethiopians.” (Herodotus, 425 BCE) The word for “black” in Greek is “ethiops;” hence, Ethiopians means Blacks. The ancient Egyptians belonged to a race similar to that of Kennous or Barabras, the present inhabitants of Nubia to the South west of Egypt. Distinguishing the Copts from the rest of the Egyptians, Herodotus pointed out that the Copts are “the result of crossbreeding with all the nations that have successfully dominated Egypt.” He therefore concluded that “It is wrong to seek in them the principal features of the old race,” features which would disclose an unquestionable African origin. In about 20 BC, another southern European historian, Diodorus of Sicily, confirmed the observation made by Herodotus. Reporting an argument by Ethiopians, the blacks outside of Egypt proper, to the effect that they share the same ancestry and customs. He writes:

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The Ethiopians say that the Egyptians were of their colonies which were brought into Egypt by Osiris. They allege that this country was originally under water, but that the Nile, dragging much mud as it flowed from Ethiopia, had finally filled it in and made it a part of the continent. They add that from them, as from their authors and ancestors, the Egyptians have learned to honor kings as god and to bury them with such pomp; sculpture and writing were invented by the Ethiopians. The Ethiopians cite evidence that they are more ancient than the Egyptians, but it is useless to report that here. (Herodotus 425 BCE)

Another Southern European historian, Ippolito Rosellini, the traveling companion to the founder of Egyptology, the first to decipher the Rossetta Stone hieroglyphics, Jean-François Champollion of the early nineteenth century, also points out in connection with Egyptian painting: To make the distance separating them from the other men more readily discernible, they [the Egyptians] attributed to themselves, as well as to the god incarnate in human form, a reddishbrown color perhaps a bit exaggerated or even somewhat conventional, which left no doubt about the originality of their race. They characterized it, moreover, on the monuments of their ancient civilization, by special features which would disclose an unquestionably African origin. (Rosellini 1847, pp. 2–3)

Having examined the pros and cons of the race of the Egyptians based on their sculptures, beliefs, and customs as compared to other Negroes the French historian Champollion-Fegac, concluded in 1839, “The first tribes that inhabited Egypt, that is the Nile Valley between the Syene cataract and the sea, came from Abyssinia to Senar.” Biblical scholarship also confirms that Egypt was populated by the off-springs of Ham, the ancestor of Blacks: “The descendants of Ham,” according to Genesis 10:6 “were Cush, Mesraim, Phut and Canaan.” Notice that “Mesraim” is still used in the Near East and some Bible translations to refer to Egypt. Noted for their black skin, the Bible says the Ethiopian cannot change the color of his skin. Prophet Jeremiah find it so obvious that he presents it in a rhetorical format? “Can the Ethiopian change the color of his skin or the leopard his spots?” (Jeremiah 13 v 23). Finally, we have the expert view of Cheikh Anta Diop, a Senegalese-born Black African who studied in France and became the first contemporary Egyptologist. And the first African scholar to show by scientific method using DNA testing to show that the Pharaohs were of Negroid origin. He has forcefully argued before a UNESCO sponsored panel in 1974, among other places, that the original population of the Nile Delta was black, and that Egyptians remained black-skinned until Egypt lost its independence (UNESCO 1974). His claim about the racial classification of the Egyptians of the Middle Kingdom was based on melanin test on the skin of actual Egyptian mummies of the period question. Some critics contend the melanin test is inappropriate to apply to ancient Egyptian mummies, due to the effects of embalming and deterioration over time. But they remain adamant in spite of Diop’s rebut that the research takes such effects into account. So in the light of the overwhelming evidence from Herodotus, Champollion and his traveling companion, it is safer to assume that these critics are more interested in protecting their Eurocentric view they are so

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heavily invested in that, objectively searching for genuine truth is no longer their priority. One would think that further genetic testing on the skin of the mummies would resolve the issue; but for fear of losing their tourist income so dependent on the Eurocentric view, the Egyptian authorities have since 19. . . banned or restricted genetic testing of mummies. Despite such obstacles, Diop challenges African scholars not to yield their hold on the truth of the Black hypothesis: Ancient Egypt was a Negro civilization. The history of Black Africa will remain suspended in the air and cannot be written correctly until African historians dare to connect it with the history of Egypt. The African historian who evades the problem of Egypt is neither modest nor objective nor unruffled. He is ignorant, cowardly and neurotic. The ancient Egyptians were Negroes. The moral fruit of their civilization is to be counted among the assets of the Black world. (Diop 1989)

Based on the convincing evidence of Herodotus, the founder of Egyptology and his traveling companion as well as the discovery made by Diop based on DNA testing of Egyptian mummies, this section can be concluded by maintaining that the Egyptians of the Middle Kingdom were indeed Black. (“A lot of people have assumed foreign invaders . . . brought a lot of genetic ancestry into the region,” Krause said. “People expected that through time, Egypt would become more European, but we see the exact opposite.” https://www.cnn.com/2017/06/22/health/ancient-egypt-mummydna-genome-heritage/index.html) Convinced of the cogency of Diop’s argument, Kofi concludes in agreement with Diop, “If the ancient Egyptians were not Black then West Africans are not black.” Critics of the Black hypothesis often use the “African condition” today in terms of poverty and dependency to deny any cultural or racial connection between Black Africans and the ancient Egyptians (Mazrui 1986). They do not understand how descendants of such a great civilization could descend into such abject poverty and dependence on other civilizations. While the question is understandable, it also portrays a lack of knowledge of the historical conditions leading to the present circumstance. The Egyptian civilization, for example, was invaded no less than 13 times by their European and Arab neighbors to the north, leading to the dispersal of many of its inhabitants and the disruption of their civilization as well as the plundering of their critical manuscripts in mathematics, science, technology, and philosophy as noted above. West African historians, including Cheikh Diop and Professor Adu Boahene, have also shown a significant level of cultural continuity between Ancient Egypt and the West African Kingdoms including Ghana, Mali, and Songhai Empires from the eighth to the sixteenth centuries CE, which were disrupted again by Arabs and European from the north in the course of violent Islamic expansionism, slave trade, colonization, and the two world wars in which Africans were forced to fight against the enemies of their respective colonial masters. Granted that African postcolonial leaders have not been sufficiently responsible in improving conditions for their people, it is still unfair to ignore the structural and psychological traumas and dependencies created by European policies of imperialism, colonization, and neo-colonization. While some of the critics might have

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genuine questions about the apparent lack of continuity, others use the question as an instrument for blaming the victim and for charging defenders of the Black hypothesis like Cheikh Diop and Kofi with anti-white racism. By so doing, they, intentionally or otherwise, add to the burdens of being a Black philosopher.

Conclusion This chapter aimed at articulating the burden of being a black philosopher in a white world. Section I was devoted to conceptual analyses, and Section II to defining the burden in question, while Section III critiqued six alternative responses from African and African-American philosophers and dismissed them separately in anticipation of Kofi’s proposed response: Section IV made the case for the Egyptian or Black hypothesis via deductive argument. If modern philosophies grew out of Greek philosophy and Greek philosophy grew out of ancient Egyptian philosophy, then modern philosophies grew out of ancient Egyptian philosophy. The validity of this deductive-causal argument is impeccable. The second and most controversial premises has been supported with a Bayor-style cumulative style argument in which each new evidence increase the probability of the Black hypothesis. Section V, on the race of the ancient Egyptians, has also been supported with credible evidence from Herodotus, Diodorus, Champollion, Rosellini, Diop, etc. (For more evidence in support of the race or Black characteristics of the Egyptians, see the sculptures, linguistics, artifacts, and photos in Diop’s book, The African Origin of World Civilization op. cit. and Ancient Egyptian Names: Akan Names Language Services (GH) Ltd., Accra, 1993 by O. Kwame Osei. He has shown the similarities and identities between 81 Ancient Egyptian names and Akan names still in use. These include the male and female day names, and very common names such as Twum, Peprah, Debra, Amoateng, Ankrah, Gyaami, Araba, Taa, Tutu, Amenfi, and Amen.) To think that the burden of being a black philosopher will end at the end of this argument or chapter will be wishful thinking on Kofi’s part. As a philosopher, however, Kofi should not give up his love and pursuit as well as the defense of objective truth, even if his midway compromise thesis on the Black Egyptian contribution to philosophy and science leads to alienation or rejection from those heavily invested psychologically and socially in the extremisms of both Eurocentrism and Afrocentrism.

References Alexander, A.B..D. 1908. Roger’s student history of philosophy. Journal of Philosophy 5 (7): 189, pp. 37–41 and 40–42. Annan, Kofi on Appiah’s book: http://appiah.net/books/cosmopolitanism/. Accessed 23 Apr 2018. Appiah, Kwame. 2003. Race, culture, identity: Misunderstood connections. In The African philosophy reader, ed. P.H. Coetzee and A.P.J. Roux, 2nd ed., 373–390. London: Routledge.

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Appiah, Kwame Anthony. 1992. In my father’s house: Africa in the philosophy of culture. New York: Oxford University Press. Asante, E. 2000. Essays On Ethics of Stewardship, Wilas Press Limited. Accra, Ghana Asante, Molefi Kete. 2009. Commitment to the civil society: The role of an Afrocentric ideology in reducing religious, regional, and ethnic obstacles to national integration, Dakar, Senegal, July 27–30, 2009. http://www.asante.net/articles/42/the-role-of-an-afrocentric-ideology/. Accessed 7 Apr 2018. Barnes, Jonathan. 2002. The Early Greek History, Revised Edition, Penguin Classics, New York Bayes’ Theorem: https://www.britannica.com/topic/Bayess-theorem we probably use everyday. . . Accessed 24 Apr 2018. (Invented by a mathematician and theologian). Bonevac, Daniel, et al. 1992. Beyond the Western tradition: Reading in moral and political philosophy. Mount View: Mayfield Publication Company. Britannica. 2018. https://www.britannica.com/topic/Edwin-Smith-papyrus Burnet, John. 1920. Early Greek philosophy. London: A. & C. Black. Dickson, K. Akwasi. 1969. Biblical revelation and African beliefs, Co-edited with Paul Ellingworth. London: Lutterworth Press. Diop, Cheikh Anta. 1978. UNESCO symposium on the Peopling of ancient Egypt and the deciphering of Meroitic script. Proceedings of the symposium held in Cairo from 28 January to 3 February 1974, UNESCO. Subsequent edition (1997), London: Karnak House, ISBN 0907015-99-9. Paris: UNESCO. Diop, C.A. 1982. Origin of the ancient Egyptians. In UNESCO general history of Africa. Volume II: Ancient civilizations of Africa, ed. G. Mokhtar. London: Heinemann. Diop, Cheikh Anta. 1989. The African origin of civilization: Myth or reality. Chicago: Review Press. ISBN 1613747365. Diop, Cheikh Anta. 2006. The pharaoh of knowledge. Archived 2007-09-30 at the Wayback Machine – Free speech Mauritania. Diop, Cheikh Anta. 2007. La pigmentation des anciens Égyptiens. Test par la mélanine. Diop, Cheikh Anta. 2017. The melanin dosage test by Cheikh Anta Diop. Keyamsha The Awakening, 10 Apr 2017. Retrieved 15 Apr 2017. Du Bois, W.E.B. 1903. The souls of Black folk. New York: Bantam Classic. Fanon, Franz. 1968. The wretched of the earth. New York: Grove. James, George. 1954. The Stolen Legacy, United Brothers Communications Systems, News Port News Harris, Leonard. 1999. Racisms. New York: Humanity Press. Hegel, G.W.F. 1956. The philosophy of history. New York: Dover Publications. Introduction, 91–99. Originally published in 1830. From Hegel’s lectures. Heidegger, Martin. 1965. What is philosophy? In What is philosophy? ed. Henry W. Johnstone Jr., 109. New York: Macmillan. Herodotus. 1928. History translated by George Rawlinson, 88; 101, 115, 184. New York: Tudor. Herodotus – Ancient history encyclopedia. https://www.ancient.eu/herodotus/. Accessed 20 Apr 2018. King Jr., Martin. 1967. Where do we go from here. Speech, delivered to the Annual convention of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference, Atlanta, August 16, 1967. Kleingeld, Pauline. 2007. Kant’s second thoughts on race. The Philosophical Quarterly 57 (229): 573. Lacouture, Jean. 1978. The demigods: Charismatic Leadership in the third world, 272–273. New York: Knopf. Laertius, 2018. Lives of the eminent philosophers. Edited by James Miller et al. New York: Oxford University Press. Mazrui, Ali A. 1980. The African condition: A diagnosis. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mazrui, A.A. 1986. The Africans: A triple heritage. London: BBC Publications. Monboddo, John Burnett, 1779. Ancient Metaphysics, Wentworth Press (August 24, 2016), Original publication 1779. Muir, James R. 2015. Overestimating Plato and underestimating Isocrates: The example of Thomas Jefferson. Journal of Thought 49 (3–4): 18–34.

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Newton, Isaac. Principles of nature 17. See Richard Wright Intro to African philosophy (1979). Osei, Joseph. 1995. Who were the first philosophers: Ancient Greeks or ancient Egyptians? The Legon Journal of the Humanities. VII: 13–35. Osei, Joseph. 2011. Ethical issues in third world development: A theory of social change. Lewis: Edwin Mellen Press. Outlaw, Lucius. 1992. The future of ‘philosophy’ in America. The Journal of Social Philosophy, 162. Outlaw, Lucius. 1992–93. African, African American, African philosophy. The Philosophical Forum. XXIV (1–3): 71. 12. Ibid., 74. 13. Ibid. 14. Oxford Dictionary. https://en.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/propaganda Piper, Adrian M.S. 1992–93. Xenophobia and Kantian rationalism. Philosophical Forum 24: 188–232. Pittman, John. 1992. African-American perspectives and philosophical traditions. The Philosophical Forum XXIV (1–3): p. 210. Popkin, Richard H. 1977–78. Hume’s racism. The Philosophical Forum 9 (22–3): 219–221. Presbey, Gail. 2003. Teaching and research in African philosophy. Humanities AITIA 24 (3): 6–23. Rao, Joe. 2016. What is a ‘morning star,’ and what is an ‘evening star’? www.Space.com. Accessed 18 Apr 2018. Rosellini, Ippolito. 1847. La Nubie, 2–3. Paris, Collection l’Univers. Russell, Bertrand. 1945. History of Western philosophy. New York: Simon & Schuster. ISBN: 0415-32505-6. Publication date: 1945 (US); 1946 (UK). Rawls, John. 1971. A Theory of Justice, Harvard University Press, Cambridge. Serequerberham, Tsenay. 1992. African Philosophy: The Essential Readings. New York: Paragon House Serequerberham, Tsenay. 1998. African philosophy: The essential readings. Belmont: Paragon House. Turner, William. 1903. History of philosophy, 65–70. London: Ginn & Co. Webster Dictionary. https://www.thefreedictionarv.com/eurocentrism/Merriam—Webster. Accessed 20 Apr 2018. Wiredu, Kwasi. 1980. Philosophy and an African Culture, Cambridge University Press. Cambridge Wright Richard, A. 1979. Introduction to African philosophy. New York: University Press of America. Zeller, E. 1881. A history of Greek philosophy: From the earliest times to the time of Socrates. Vol. I and II, 76–83. London: Green and Co.

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Decolonization of the West, Desuperiorization of Thought, and Elative Ethics Björn Freter

WHEN YOU REMOVED THE GAG that was keeping these black mouths shut, what were you hoping for? That they would sing your praises? Did you think that when they raised themselves up again, you would read adoration in the eyes of these heads that our fathers had forced to bend down to the very ground? Here are black men standing, looking at us, and I hope that you – like me – will feel the shock of being seen. For three thousand years, the white man has enjoyed the privilege of seeing without being seen; he was only a look – the light from his eyes drew each thing out of the shadow of its birth; the whiteness of his skin was another look, condensed light. Sartre (1964/1965, 13)

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mythology of the Colonized . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Decolonization of the West? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Decolonization as Overcoming Violence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Forced Anachronism and Forced Obscurity – Consequences of the Western Refusal to Decolonize Itself . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Untrustworthy Thought . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Superiority and Contempt . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Dangerous Thought . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Practice of Decolonizing the West: Desuperiorization and Elative Ethics of Matters of the Heart . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Western Society Must Overcome Contempt . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Practice of Elative Ethics: Material Difference, Formal Identity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Practically Adhering to Moral Values . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Through the vehicle of Nicolas Sarkozy’s so-called “Dakar Address,” we will analyze the West’s persisting lack of insight into the need for Western decolonization. We will attempt to identify the dangers that come from this refusal, such as the continued adherence to colonial patterns, the enduring self-understanding as being superior compared to Africa, and the persisting unwillingness to accept colonial guilt. Decolonization must be understood as a two-fold business. Decolonization means overcoming endured and perpetrated violence. It is not only important that the colonially oppressed regain strength, it is equally important that the perpetrators of colonial violence understand their excess of violence and work on rendering its return impossible. We explain how Western thinking remains dangerous and untrustworthy if it rejects its own decolonization. Finally, we will draw attention to a fundamental pattern of Western thought that clashes with the fundamental values of the West: contempt. In a final step, we suggest how this contempt can be overcome through desuperiorization and the establishment of elative ethics. Keywords

Decolonization · Desuperiorization · Elative ethics · Western thought · Superiority · Inferiority · Contempt · Facticity · Existentiality · Nikolas Sarkozy · Dakar Address

Introduction Philosophy in Africa is thriving. Substantial contributions to philosophy at large are being made by African philosophers, and philosophy has developed despite the colonial past and neo-colonial present. (For a critical evaluation on the progress of African philosophy, see Agada 2013. We would like to point out the philosophical contributions on Ubuntu (see Ramose 1999), political philosophy of democratic consensus (see Wiredu 1993b, 1997), epistemology of truth (see Wiredu 1973), sage philosophy (see Oruka 1990), philosophy of the person (see Gyekye 1992), Philosophia Africana (see Outlaw 1996), and on hermeneutics (see Serequeberhan 1994). For very comprehensive overviews of African philosophy, which clearly show how much work has already been done – and accordingly: how much work is still widely ignored – see Coetzee and Roux (2003), Wiredu (2006), Makinde (2007), and Afolayan and Falola (2017). For briefer overviews on current topics and trends in African philosophy, see the work of Ochieng’-Odhiambo (2010) and Anoka (2012). For anthologies of original works of African philosophers, see for example Serequeberhan (1991), further Eze (1997a).) African thought is in the process of decolonizing, in the process of increasingly freeing itself from colonial usurpation. (For further investigation into the philosophical decolonization of African thought, see especially the groundbreaking works of Ghanaian philosopher Kwasi Wiredu, e.g., 1993a, 1998. For a comprehensive overview of the current

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status of “Africa’s Quest for a Philosophy of Decolonization,” see Kebede’s (2004) work of that title.) However, in Western philosophy, African philosophy is far from being recognized as philosophy at all. (For an example of the blatant arrogance and disregard toward African philosophy, see Hochkeppel (1994). For a substantial critique on Hochkeppel, see Kresse (1997). From an African perspective, see Wiredu (1991, 1998) and Onyewuenyi (1991).) Western thinking, as we observe it, has yet to realize that this ignorance stems from the fact that the colonial self-understanding as being superior has not yet been abandoned. We propose that this contemptible stance of Eurowestern thinking has not been acknowledged and has therefore not been overcome. Western thought therefore is, and is likely to remain, dangerous. This is true, in our opinion, because the West refuses to decolonize itself. Consequently, our recommendation is a call for the decolonization of the West. Much in our work is still evolving and provisional, including some of the terms we will use. We will talk about the West, Western or Eurowestern thinking, Europe, and Africa and we acknowledge the inexactness of these terms. We must live with this vagueness as we attempt to initiate philosophical examination and practical application regarding the decolonization of the West. This is only a very first step. We will first examine at the so-called Dakar Address delivered by Nicolas Sarkozy to contextualize our inquiry. We utilize this speech as an example of the West’s persisting lack of insight into the need for Western decolonization. Some dangers that come from this refusal will be identified, such as the continued adherence to colonial patterns, the persisting self-understanding as being superior compared to Africa, and the persisting unwillingness to accept colonial guilt. We will then point out that decolonization is a two-fold business. It is not only important that (1) the colonially oppressed regain strength, it is equally important that (2) the perpetrator of colonial violence understands his excess of violence and works on rendering its return impossible. Decolonization is overcoming violence, both endured and perpetrated violence. We will demonstrate that as long as Western thinking refuses to decolonize, it remains dangerous and untrustworthy. Finally, we will draw attention to a fundamental pattern of Western thought that clashes with the fundamental values of the West, a concept we call contempt. In a final step, we attempt to show how this contempt can be overcome through desuperiorization and establishing elative ethics.

Mythology of the Colonized Nikolas Sarkozy, French President from 2007 to 2012, concluded in his 2007 speech at the Cheikh Anta Diop University in Dakar, Senegal, that colonialism had been, as he put it, a “huge mistake.” (For an overview on Sarkozy’s politics, see Gaffney (2010, 191–205). For an overview on Sarkozy and France’s Africa politics, see Melly and Darracq (2013). For an overview on the debate the speech produced among African thinkers, see Gassama (2008). For German translations of the speech, some of the contributions from Gassama (2008) and some additions, see Cichon,

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Hosch, and Kirsch (2010). The actual author of the speech was Sarkozy’s speech writer, Henri Guanio. However, Sarkozy gave the speech and appropriated its content, and is thus the representant of this content. We quote the speech from the only English version that we could find, which was an unofficial translation. We also provide the page numbers of the German translation which was utilized for further corroboration.) One would hope that the former French President did not truly mean it in this vilipend way. However, just a few lines later, the corroboration of this rhetoric becomes apparent, for he uses the fateful word, that word which is always to be feared when great guilt is downplayed: “Colonisation was a huge mistake, but” – this is the decisive word but, and it is followed by – “from it was born the embryo of a common destiny.” (Sarkozy 2007, 41)

And Sarkozy takes it even further: “Colonisation was a mistake” – now it is no longer even a huge mistake – “that changed and intertwined the destinies of both Europe and Africa.” (Sarkozy 2007, 42)

Here we finally arrive at the actual destination of the rhetorical path: from “huge mistake” via the “but” to the “mistake” which is suddenly no longer “huge.” This is the ultimate downplaying to which Sarkozy was leading us the entire time. He states: For better or for worse colonisation has transformed African and European. (Sarkozy 2007, 42)

Shortly thereafter he claims: The Muslim civilisation, Christianity and colonisation, beyond the crimes and mistakes that were committed in their name and that are not excusable, have opened the African heart and mentality to the universal and to history. (Sarkozy 2007, 46–47)

Sarkozy reduces the inhumanity of the crime to an aberration of a past era and in doing so clearly implies that colonialism (which he conflates with Muslim civilization and Christianity in a strange implicitness) brought about a change in Africans for the better: it “opened the African heart and mentality to the universal and to history.” It is difficult to understand what it means, on the one hand, that the African heart has been opened to the universal and to history. It is even more difficult to guess why such a response to the “universal” and “history” – ostensibly perceived by Sarkozy in their Eurowestern iterations – was actually considered necessary, and, moreover, why this opening of the heart improved the African heart. Why should Europeanization or Westernization be an improvement? And if indeed the African heart was not open to the universal and to history, why should

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a heart that is closed to this have no right to live in this closed way? Conversely, why does this African heart have to change and open up to the Western understanding of universality and history? Why not the other way around? And why should there not be a world of hearts closed to history and the universal and hearts open to history and the universal? Upon further reflection, the enigma grows: how could this transformation from the closed to the opened heart be so significant that it overshadows the misery of colonialism? From Sarkozy, we learn nothing about all these important questions that his words prompt. Sarkozy rather continues in a tone of paternalistic and high-handed contempt, suggesting: The coloniser took, but I want to say with respect that he also gave. He built bridges, roads, hospitals, dispensaries and schools. He turned virgin soil fertile. He gave of his effort, his work, his know-how. I want to say it here, not all the colonialists were thieves or exploiters. (Sarkozy 2007, 41)

Unfortunately, Mr. Sarkozy’s tenor is deficient in a key sense; respect is nowhere to be found here. He ignores the fact that Africans were clearly able to make soil fertile themselves (see Harlan 1982). Inevitably, against all historical testimonies and without any argumentative necessity, he ascribes specious messianic traits to the colonizer. The extrapolation of his statements seems to imply that this colonizer rendered real life, life in the higher sense, possible for the African people in the first place, tearing them out of vegetation, and turning them into actual humans. It is considerably disturbing to find the colonial mythology still flourishing like this in the twenty-first century. Additionally, there is something else even more significant that Sarkozy completely ignores: the colonizers did not build this infrastructure for the African peoples. The “bridges, roads, hospitals, dispensaries, and schools” were not a response to needs articulated by the African population. In fact, history shows us that all of this had most certainly nothing at all to do with the Africans. Sarkozy, too, knows that. But he does not say it. Sarkozy’s comments are fatally reminiscent of the rhetoric strategies of those who defend Hitler with the deplorable argument that not everything he did was bad because at least he built the Autobahn. (This is historically incorrect and is an example of tenacious national-socialist propaganda; see Schütz and Gruber (2000).) So what was the purpose of the “bridges, roads, hospitals, dispensaries, and schools”? That is simple to answer: the aim was either to provide infrastructural support for the structures of exploitation, or, in situations in which that was not directly the case, to “culturally uplift” the African population in accordance with the supercilious tenor of colonial ideology. The aim, therefore, was either to exploit or, at best, to Europeanize, unavoidably engendering the destruction of African culture. It is simply erroneous to state that the colonizer also gave. The colonizer only gave what enabled him to take or what was deemed culturally uplifting regardless of the cost to African culture.

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This can hardly be considered a transformation for the better. Whatever good may have occurred in the course of colonization, it indeed simply occurred, but was never planned by the colonizers as something good. “Between colonizer and colonized,” Martinique thinker Aimé Césaire wrote in 1955: there is only room for forced labour, intimidation pressure, the police, taxation, theft, rape, compulsory crops, contempt, mistrust, arrogance, self-complacency, swinishness, brainless elites, degraded masses. (Césaire 1955, 39)

This is the painful and unmasked truth. A truth that tenaciously persists and which former colonizing nations seem not to have the power to admit, even though the horrors of colonization are strikingly clear. The interest of colonization was never directed toward Africans as Africans, but only ever either toward Africans as a human resource, tools, a means to an end, or toward Africans as not-yet-Europeans, not-yet-humans, creatures who are still more or less children, on their way to becoming white, or at least slightly more white, on their way, as Fanon put it, to “lactification” (Fanon 1952, 29). The interest is merely in the African as an object, as a functional entity, as something which does not yet truly exist, as something that has yet to become meaningful. This is the colonial invention of the African: the helpless African in opposition to the quasi-messianic European. Nobody, again we must agree with Césaire, “colonizes innocently”: a civilization which colonizes, [. . .] a civilization which justifies colonization – and therefore force – is already a sick civilization, a civilization which is morally diseased, which irresistibly, progressing from one consequence to another, one denial to another, calls for its Hitler, I mean its punishment. (Césaire 1955, 39) [I]f colonization destroys the colonized”, writes the French anti-colonialist activist philosopher Jean Paul Sartre ten years later, “it also rots the colonizer. (Sartre 1965, 13)

This is quite a miserable testimonial for Western thought. Was it not this thought that brought forth the Enlightenment, the idea of human rights, the idea of equality before the law, and the idea of equality of all human beings? We Western scholars have to ask ourselves: How could we do this? How could we – and this is not a rhetorical question, we must provide an answer – fail so catastrophically? And we continue to fail. These questions form the basis for our ongoing inquiry. Let us once again consult the words of Césaire. His charged words ring true when he points out that: [O]ut of all the colonial statutes that have been drawn up, out of all the memoranda that have been dispatched by all the ministries, there could not come a single human value. (Césaire 1955, 34)

Even if there was perhaps a transformation into something positive during the colonial period, it is grotesque to present this in the way that Sarkozy does. One

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would encourage former President Sarkozy to envisage a rapist and his victim. Let us ask him to imagine how he would react if he was told that this rapist – once his victim had found a new, greater strength than ever before in the course of processing the crime – approached the former victim and patted this victim on the shoulder and claimed: Our common fate has changed us, both me and you, for the worse, but also for the better.

It cannot be doubted that he would find this absurd and offensive. However, in the continental scope of the crime of colonization, this normative evidence can apparently be aggressively overlooked. One cannot claim that this evidence is not there; it is simply intentionally overlooked. In terms of ensuring that the subject is then laid to rest, this overlooking is most effective when it is conducted, as Sarkozy attempted to do, in the presence of those on whom the crime was perpetrated. If this ruse works, the issue is successfully dismissed. The widespread African protests against the speech happily did not allow this to happen. (The protest in Europe was limited, with the exception of France. Due to the work of three Professors of Romance Language (notably not philosophers), Sarkozy’s speech was made available in German (see Cichon et al. 2010). It is quite telling that there is still no official English translation (or other translations) of the speech available. For more details, see the solid review of the book provided by Mehler (2010).) We have to be clear: colonialism was not a mistake, not even a huge mistake; it was a crime. A well-planned devastation, pillaging and plundering of land and hearts and minds, all carried out with a considerable organizational effort. (See additional examples of powerful judgments from black scholars and activists “White civilization and European culture have imposed an existential deviation on the black man” (Fanon 1952, xviii). “[M]illions of men whom they [i.e. the Whites] have knowingly instilled with fear and a complex of inferiority, whom they have infused with despair and trained to tremble, to kneel and behave like flunkeys” (Césaire 1955, 20). “I maintain that e the ultimate effect of white Europe upon Asia and Africa was to cast millions into a kind of spiritual void; I maintain that it suffused their lives with a sense of meaninglessness. I argue that it was not merely physical suffering or economic deprivation that has set over a billion and a half colored people in a violent political motion” (Wright 1957, 34sq.). “All in all the black man has become a shell, completely defeated, drowning in his own misery, a slave, an ox bearing the yoke of oppression with sheepish timidity” (Biko 1970, 29).) “In portraying colonization this way,” as Cameroonian philosopher Achille Mbembe noted in a commentary on Sarkozy, such people authorize themselves, as in the Dakar speech, an intimate sincerity, an underlying authenticity so as better to find excuses – in which they alone believe – for a particularly cruel, abject and vile enterprise. (Mbembe 2007)

Anybody who searches for alibis in this manner, however, makes their crime even more sordid. Such people were not only criminals in the past; they can become criminals once again at any moment, for self-devised alibis can be abandoned at will.

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Such crimes must be taken as an opportunity either to admit one’s criminality to the world or to question oneself fundamentally – this requires the strength to confront one’s own wretchedness without hiding behind pretexts. Western culture has managed to commit a series of such crimes, including the genocide of Native Americans, the Holocaust, and, of course, colonization. The “white systems,” South African anti-apartheid activist Steve Biko wrote once, have produced through the world a number of people who are not aware that they too are people. (Biko 1971, 1)

Sadly, Germany, the author’s home country, has had cause to question its own fundamental normative principles on several occasions. And Germany has succeeded in showing, despite considerable initial difficulties and considerable internal political conflicts, that it is indeed possible to approach a crime such as the Holocaust and deal constructively with such unfathomable guilt, even though there is still a lot to do, of course, and as the dishonorable debate about the commemoration of Sinti and Roma, for example, has shown, there is still a need for further development. (The genocide on the Sinti and Roma is still, as Zoni Weisz, representative of the Sinti and Roma of the Netherlands, puts it, a “forgotten Holocaust”; see Weisz 2011.) However, Germany has neglected to this day to apply this ability to its colonial guilt. One need to only think of Germany’s failure in handling the genocide of the Herero and Nama people between 1904 and 1908. (For a comprehensive historical analysis, see Sarkin (2010) and for the ongoing processing of the German-Namibian past, see German Embassy Windhoek (2017).) In this way, our discussion about the mythology of the colonized brings us to see that colonization was criminal and not simply a mistake.

Decolonization of the West? We must thus be sure about the fact that colonialism was no mistake and indeed a crime, but there is still more to apprehend. This crime was never actually ended. As it was not seen as a crime, this criminality produced no compulsion to end it. Let us remember that there are – at the risk of overgeneralizing – two important reasons why the practice of colonialism ended (For a brief overview, see Jansen and Osterhammel (2013), and for a more comprehensive work, see Rothermund (2006).): 1. The self-assertion of the colonially oppressed became a substantial problem for the oppressors. The revolt of the African people was quite simply a political risk as the uprisings took their toll on the colonial interlopers. 2. Maintaining the oppression became more difficult, and – this began to outweigh the meager fiscal advantages in the uncertain economic times between the World Wars. We must illuminate this sad historical triviality with its normative component that the West is only too happy to overlook: decolonization was initiated by self-assertion

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against the West coming exclusively from the African side and by the increasing risks for the West of a political-economic nature. One of the greatest crimes of human history thus came to an end, from the point of view of the thought responsible for it, because it was no longer worthwhile and had become too risky. While African thought began to regain a sense of itself and to reclaim that which had been ripped from it while attempting to process and overcome the crime committed against it, white thought simply gave up on its crime because it became too uncomfortable, and not because it was a crime. The venture of colonialism was given up, but not the crime of colonization.

Decolonization as Overcoming Violence Decolonization was – and still is today – a normatively one-sided project. It was started without normative upheaval in the West. And it is being continued without a normative reversal in the West. We must realize: the West did not decolonize itself and has never consciously ended its colonial practice. One can assume that this is the reason why the West could transition so seamlessly into neo-colonialism and a neo-imperialistic way of life in the new era of globalization (see Brand and Wissen 2017). The West stopped one form of colonialism and established another. The West was indeed not unaware of the necessity of decolonization. The West for the most part seems to have refused and is still refusing to decolonize. The West appears never to have fully considered the question of why this should not be done, even though it was aware of the problem. The West found a way to behave the same as before without the political risk and the economic harm and without a serious change in philosophical outlook. With the end of colonialism, the West showed no signs that a crime was ended. The West, as exemplified by the thinking of a national leader such as Sarkozy, simply ended an idea, a project, an endeavor, a venture. From this premise, it is understandable why Sarkozy could bring up a term like “mistake.” The rationale appears to be that the endeavor of colonialism failed, mistakes were made, and it is time to move on. But we argue that the West must decolonize. The West must acknowledge and overcome colonial violence. The process of decolonization vitally requires overcoming colonial violence, and that includes the violence that has been perpetrated and violence that was endured. A post-colonial world can only truly exist if the violence of colonialism is dealt with in both these arenas. We argue that the Western world needs to understand that its task is to overcome the violence that was done in its name while not impeding its former colonies in their processes of overcoming the past.

Forced Anachronism and Forced Obscurity – Consequences of the Western Refusal to Decolonize Itself The need for Western decolonization is urgent. The fact that Western thought has not undergone an ethically revolutionary process of decolonization has had two ongoing consequences.

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1. Forced Anachronism. Since the Western world has never given up the crime of colonialism, the criminal status as a colonizer has never really been overcome. That also means that the African continent continues to be implicitly understood by the West as a colonial entity. Of course, the violence is no longer primarily political, but now economic in nature. But whatever kind of violence is exercised, there is always a preceding act of brutal epistemological violence that establishes a normative difference between the West and Africa. The West will continue to fail to understand Africa far too often because it is not actually in contact with the real Africa, but only with the colonial invention, this forcibly produced apparition of Africa. (We think here of the tribal structures or country borders invented by the colonial rulers, see Dowden 2015, 51–93; Osterhammel and Jansen 2009, 56–61.) This colonially contrived vision of Africa has had and still has only one purpose: to facilitate and, more importantly, to justify its oppression. How should a dialogue between Africa and Europe be possible if Africa indeed decolonizes itself in a remarkable way (see Wiredu 1998; Kebede 2004), but the colonizer still does not see Africa as an equivalent Other, but still as the old colonial Africa, as the inferior Other that would never have existed without the colonial excess and whose inferiority is, just as the Western superiority, a mere phantasm? If the West does not decolonize, if the West does not revolutionize itself ethically, then it remains a colonizer, a colonial hostage-taker, if you will. This has become reality in the form of neo-colonialism, imperialism rebooted for the twenty-first century (see Brand and Wissen 2017). The refusal to decolonize is a refusal to accept the present age, a refusal to recognize Africa as Africa, a wretched attempt to keep the pseudo-real colonial specter alive. Through this refusal to civilize, the West becomes guilty of the problem Africa is so often accused of: behavior that is backward, outmoded, and, yes, anti-modern. The West is well aware of its guilt, that is the problem. Sarkozy’s speech is not about Africa at all; it is a single address from a Western standpoint that is attempting to absolve the colonizer of guilt without making any intrinsic change. Europe’s engagement with guilt is by no means a new phenomenon. The guilt is so recognizable and tangible, that it is simply irrefutable. Therefore, anyone who does not admit this guilt does not want to admit it. “It is,” as Tunisian sociologist Albert Memmi already noted, “impossible for him [i.e. the colonizer] to not be aware of the constant illegitimacy of his status.” (Memmi 1957, 52). An admission of guilt, of course, would not be enough by far. An admission of guilt, if it is to have even the slightest value, also requires corresponding practical action, an active atonement. Anybody who refuses to engage in repentance and reconciliation and fails even to admit guilt at all, who seemingly takes great pains to suppress the realization of this guilt, is a coward and is not to be trusted. 2. Forced Obscurity. The present-day denial of the criminality of the West’s colonization of Africa propagates a pseudo-reality. This forced anachronism envelops the crucial

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acknowledgment of guilt and its active overcoming, which must be the beginning of decolonization, in an intentional obscurity. This obscurity is the manifestation of the refusal to face the question of how the moral foundations of the West could coexist with colonialism. This question should cause alarm. There are two things of note to be feared here: inability and reluctance. We must assume one of two things. The first possibility is that the West was too weak and unable to prevent colonialism. Western thinking must thus understand that it is time to find out whether colonialism is symptomatic of an ethical weakness. Self-reflection is needed to determine whether Eurowestern thought has simply not been able to practically implement the moral foundations of the Enlightenment’s promotion of equality, fraternity, and democratic ideals, or whether something else is at work. Alternatively, we must assume that the West did not want to prevent colonialism, because its moral foundations were simply not directed at all humankind, but at only at (select parts of) Western humankind. Western thinking needs to consider that it is time to find out whether the moral foundations of the Enlightenment were just not meant for all human beings. (This is indeed a reasonable suspicion. We just need to remember what vulgar anti-Semitism we find in the works of, for example, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Denis Diderot, Voltaire or Georg Christoph Lichtenberg, Immanuel Kant, Johann Gottlieb Fichte, or Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel and so many others. For details on Kant, Fichte, and Hegel, see Hentges (2009); for an analysis of Kant, see Bernasconi (2002), Eze (1997b), and also Serequeberhan (2003, 71–75). For a broad modern post-colonial analysis of the Enlightenment, see Dhawan (2014). Modern philosophical scholarship still has a severe problem today with admitting all this blatant racism in the history of philosophy. This was very visible when Martin Heidegger’s so-called Black Notebooks were (partially) published. The clearly evident anti-Semitism of Heidegger’s Notebooks, which was, as we would like to point out, already visible in other works, was still denied or downplayed by many philosophers; for the debate, see Heinz and Kellerer (2016).) It needs to be determined whether the equality of all human beings was only ever a merely Eurocentric concept, developed for our own sake, but never intended to be embraced as a universal moral directive, a concept never intended to be acted upon. Western thinking, if it attaches any importance to being taken seriously by itself and others in its ethical foundations and/or ethical practice, needs an ethical revolution. 1. If it is determined that Western ethical foundations should include everyone morally, this revolution must impact Eurowestern practice. We in the West must then finally do what we already thought would be the right thing to do. The Western ethos born of the Enlightenment is of some significance only if it is irrevocably linked to acts consistent with this very ethos. 2. Or the West must acknowledge that its own moral foundations are meant to be exclusive, that these foundations are not aimed at humanity, but at Western people, or following the inhumane logic of colonialism: at people of higher value.

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If we really make this abhorrent find of an incoherent ethical outlook, we must decide whether we want to continue to be human beings who think and act like this, as we have done until now, or whether we want to work on breaking that paradigm. The West must finally deal honestly with its moral foundations and face head on the simultaneity of its profound meditations on the good and its excess of cruelty. It is worth noting that the research into the duplicity of Western thought in the colonial enterprise is nominal. The West knows its guilt, and because it intuitively knows the depth of this incongruous depravity, it wants to escape from it once and for all. But the West does not admit its guilt in its entirety and does not do what – according to its very own moral foundations – should be done. After these reflections, let us examine Sarkozy again as an exemplar of this diversion of guilt.

Untrustworthy Thought We have found that a discussion of the forced anachronism and of the forced obscurity of hypocritical ethical actions, through either inability or reluctance on the part of the West, leaves Africa perceived as a colonial caricature redressed for modern exploitation and paternalism with issues of Western criminality and guilt carefully minimized. Not only do we note these problematic issues, but we see too that Africa has also been given the task of finally forgiving the West. And so the humiliation of the people of Africa continues. Sarkozy attempts to use them to bear witness to the idea that our guilt runs deep, but not too deep. Listen to Sarkozy: Africa’s reality is that of a great continent that has everything to succeed, but that does not succeed because it cannot free itself from its myths. (Sarkozy 2007, 51)

This is in truth an intellectual rampage of paternalism. Africa “has,” as Sarkozy explains, become a myth that everyone reconstructs for the requirements of their cause. (Sarkozy 2007, 50)

Sarkozy comes up with an impressive number of puzzling terms here. Africa has everything it needs, could achieve anything, but nothing happens because it stands in its own way. It would have been helpful if Sarkozy had been a little more specific about what this myth entailed. For us at least, what he offers is too meagre. Let us turn to another bizarre aspect of this sentence. This strange aspect immediately becomes visible when we change the sentence slightly. Let us remember, he stated: Africa’s reality is that of a great continent that has everything to succeed, but that does not succeed because it cannot free itself from its myths. (Sarkozy 2007, 51)

And we would like to propose now:

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Europe’s reality is that of a great continent that has everything required not to be a genocidal coloniser, but that does not succeed because . . .

Let us first focus on the first part of the sentence: European thought had and has all the necessary tools with which to admit the injustice of colonization, and indeed Europe had and has all that would be required not to have committed the crime in the first place, or to own up to the deed subsequently, or at least not to humiliate its victim countless times in the wake of this deed. On the one hand, Sarkozy’s claim fails to recognize the significant work that African thinkers have long since done. That this work hardly matters is because it is ignored, not because it has not been done. On the other hand – and this is much worse – it fails to recognize the need to finally realize that the West must decolonize as well. This is an important insight, but it is hardly a new one. One would only have needed to listen to Steve Biko with his thoughts on South Africa and his critique of the white liberals to learn of it. In his polemical essay “Black Souls in White Skins?,” Biko writes: Instead of involving themselves in an all-out attempt to stamp out racism from their white society, liberals waste lots of time trying to prove to as many blacks as they can find that they are liberal. This arises out of the false belief that we are faced with a black problem. There is nothing the matter with blacks. The problem is WHITE RACISM and it rests squarely on the laps of the white society. The sooner the liberals realise this the better for us blacks. Their presence amongst us is irksome and of nuisance value. [. . .] White liberals must leave blacks to take care of their own business while they concern themselves with the real evil in our society – white racism. (Biko 1970, 23)

Let us focus on only this one sentence: The problem is WHITE RACISM and it rests squarely on the laps of the white society.

There is not much leeway for discussion. This is the empirical truth. And we can easily apply this truth to the broader problem of colonialism: The problem is EUROPEAN COLONIALISM and it rests squarely on the laps of the European society.

From these laps, colonialism was started and from these alone. It was never ended by European society, only (at least to a certain degree) by African society. Western society never overcame the problem of colonialism, because the problem was never acknowledged. It is out of the question to use an – honestly laughable – excuse such as that proposed by Sarkozy: [N]o one can ask of the generations of today to expiate this crime perpetrated by past generations. No one can ask of the sons to repent for the mistakes of their fathers. (Sarkozy 2007, 39)

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Indeed, from a Western point of view, and considering the ideas of responsibility and will commonly developed in Western thought, this may be applicable. But – yet again – that is not at all the question at hand. This has nothing to do with sons and daughters paying for the sins of their fathers and mothers. This is about how the situation could arise in which the fathers and mothers fell into sin, and whether this sin could befall the sons and daughters as well. This is not about a transgenerational responsibility for certain acts, but rather about a transgenerational responsibility for the possibilities of one’s acts born out of one’s own thought, and why these acts, which run contrary to one’s own normative tradition, could still be possible today. (It is also about the following point, which we will not follow any further here: if the sons and daughters are so obviously not required to pay for the sins of their fathers and mothers, why are they allowed to enjoy the fruits of these sins so unashamedly? Transgenerational guilt can under no circumstances be applied; transgenerational advantages, it seems, can obviously be accepted. This is evident everywhere one looks: from land which was stolen, but never returned to nearly all the great museums of world culture in the West, which are filled with stolen artifacts; for the last point, see Institute of Museum Ethics (2018)) It is fair to consider why indeed African people should trust that that which was initiated by the thought of the Eurowestern fathers and mothers will not be continued by the Eurowestern sons and daughters. It is not about atoning for what the fathers and mothers did, but about explaining how this came to pass and, on the basis of this understanding, plausibly explaining why we, the white sons and daughters, will not do something similar, because, as we must emphasize once again: our Eurowestern fathers and mothers did not end their oppressive activities because they were wrong, but because these activities were risky, unprofitable, exhausting. Why should the white sons (of whom the author is one) and daughters not take up these activities once again if it should be discovered how to minimize the risk, the unprofitability, and the effort? There is, so far, no fundamentally opposing moral authority of sufficient strength. The resumption of these activities is already well underway. The post-colonial global North has already long since begun spraying its crypto-colonial poison over the global South once more (see Brand and Wissen 2017). Why then trust us, why trust Europe, why trust Western thought? With all due respect to every individual effort to combat contempt, exploitation, and colonialism, the West has considerable work to do in order to produce solid social consensus against colonial exploitation and colonial contempt, which then has to be followed by inextricably connected corresponding practical action. Who could blame Africa, victim of such a massive crime, for not wanting consolation and certainly not advice from the perpetrator? The poor encouragements, such as those from Sarkozy, have become necessary only through colonization itself. The West encourages a continent, which it contemptuously ravished, to regain composure? The rapist, we need to use this horrible comparison again, addresses the rape victim and tells them to pull themselves together and work on a common future? Again, this is ridiculous, and it remains absurd on a continental scale. This all leads us to the question: what is the problem with Western thought that could make this preposterous behavior comprehensible?

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Superiority and Contempt With this question, we arrive back at the “because,” where we interrupted our earlier thoughts on Europe. Europe is: a great continent that has everything required not to be a genocidal coloniser, but that does not succeed because . . .

What then comes after this “because”? Western thought, it seems, is infused with a permanent tacit assumption of superiority of almost metaphysical proportions, a diffuse conviction of being the one and only thought that truly counts. It is from this assumption of superiority, entirely in accordance with Western textbook dialectics, that the idea of inferiorization directly and necessarily emanates. When one entity is considered superior, others must be considered inferior. Anyone who thinks in this manner has good conceptual reason to make the leap from one to the other. However, it is extremely important, on the one hand, to note that we are speaking here of the conceptual and not of the phenomenal. The dialectical movement of thought does not describe in any way what the case actually is. It is not a phenomenology. This movement of thought shows only that the plain and arbitrary positing of one’s own greatness simultaneously means the positing of the other as not great. This positing, because it follows necessarily from an arbitrary act, is itself also arbitrary. We must also, on the other hand, take note of the fact that the conceptual necessity tells us virtually nothing about the phenomenon to which it is applied, instead providing information primarily about the person who applies it. This thought means only the following: anybody who lives their life convinced that there is something superior must inevitably also be convinced that there is something inferior. They who superiorize that which is their own inferiorize all that is not their own, the other. This goes further still: when people superiorize but they are not right about their superiority, they inferiorize nevertheless, they still become active as inferiorizers. They who superiorize can be mistaken, but they nevertheless bring this thought into the world, and with it the practice of inferiorization. And they who are so infatuated with their own greatness that they find, upon looking down, in their contempt, only smallness, only the smallest of beings, open Pandora’s Box. This is precisely what we find here: the inferiorization of Africans seems to be born of the superiorization of Westerners – at least male, heterosexual Westerners. The superiorization of the white man was what brought the inferior black man as a phenomenon into the world (See Kebede 2004, 20. (“The myth of the ‘white man’ calls for the attribution of otherness to non-Western peoples, and subjugation constitutes its validation following the scientific criterion of successful practice as a confirmation of truth. While anthropology establishes the otherness of non-Western peoples, conquest confirms materially the superiority of the ‘white man.’”)) As Fanon implores, “Let us have the courage to say: It is the racist who creates the inferiorised” (Fanon 1952, 73). Without colonization, therefore, there can be nobody who is

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colonized, and without racists there can be no race. These are all variations of the normative dialectic of superiority and inferiority. This ontological-normative dialectic of superiority and inferiority finds its genesis in a person’s wish to dominate, and thus necessarily finds inferiority located anywhere where that very person is not. This brings to light an important strain of Western thought: wherever Western thought finds differences, it plunges into the tacit and entirely unfounded assumption that one of the two things must be better, in an entirely vulgar normative sense, one of the two things must be better than the other. This slippery slope leads the less valuable of the two to be not simply less valuable, but construed to be of no intrinsic value at all. Think of Plato’s metaphysics, Augustine’s philosophy of history, Descartes’ anthropology or Kant’s ethics, and the hierarchical binaries that their work has made entirely normative to the Western mind. Consequently, to the Western mind, wherever we find two things, one of them must be better. And history has demonstrated what will be considered better when one of these is Western and the other nonWestern, one male and one non-male, one white and the other non-white. Hence, difference is usually not about this and that, but about us and the other. The criterion for the better is not how the thing is, but that it is ours. The other is not only different from what is ours because its different, it is at the same time worse than ours. And here comes that which we believe fundamentally characterizes Western thought just as much as its rationality or logic: Western thought is contemptuous. (Perhaps this holds true for other thought too, but that is irrelevant here. We wish to focus only on Western thought and the best reason for this is that it was this thought which was responsible for colonialism.)

Dangerous Thought Placing one’s own identity on the highest pedestal is an arbitrary act. This gives rise to arbitrary inferiorization. It is precisely this that we wish to define as contempt: a normative inferiorization of the other because this other is not the same as oneself, not the same as that which is considered one’s own, simply because it is different. (We have provided an analysis of contemptuous politics of the right-wing German political party Alternative für Deutschland (AfD) in Freter (2017a), see Freter (2015a).) It appears that Western thought, to this day, has not sufficiently recognized this dangerous contempt as the threat that it is. When we take a look around the contemporary Western geopolitical landscape, Britain, Germany, France, Austria, Hungary, and the USA – this danger is clearly manifest in a resurgence in isolationism, xenophobia, and ethnonationalism. The foreign, the other, that which is perceived as worse is being (re)invented and (re)stigmatized. Western thought is and remains dangerous (Cf. Fanon (1952, 205). Some work, of course, has been done. However, it has been pointed out correctly that: “Decolonization did not by itself create a new international order” (Jansen and Osterhammel 2013, 152). This is true even if it is also correct to state: “Where decolonization did have a lasting impact on world politics was in changing the conceptual underpinnings of the international order. It put to the test its normative foundations and made many things that had been

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taken for granted during the age of empire unthinkable or at least unspeakable. Even if there were more than just anti-imperialist impulses at work in its emergence, the United Nations and some of its suborganizations (such as UNCTAD, UNDP, and UNESCO) did become, during and after the decolonization process, arenas for articulating “Southern” views and interests” (Jansen and Osterhammel 2013, 153)). And this holds especially true as long as the West refuses to decolonize. We must finally take this seriously, become self-consciously humble concerning our value as a normative authority and face the fact that we need to learn to practically follow through with what we consider to be the right thing. Western thought needs to seriously and comprehensively question its contempt, its normative hierarchization, its superiority ontology. It is high time that this was undertaken because the practice that followed from this contempt made the West into the most prolific global exploiters at best and criminals at worst during the colonial period.

The Practice of Decolonizing the West: Desuperiorization and Elative Ethics of Matters of the Heart The former colonizing nations finally need to bring themselves to deal honestly with their moral foundations and to establish an inextricable connection between words and action. To do so, we would like, in light of the former practices of criminal subjugation and exploitation born of ontological contempt, to suggest a new practice: desuperiorization. Desuperiorization is practical decolonization from the standpoint of the violator. The colonial violator must work on establishing a new reality in which the colonial transgression is no longer possible. The practical action that we Western thinkers must understand as our central task must be the work of the desuperiorization of our thought and according action as part of the process of decolonization. Vitriolic political rhetoric of the kind exemplified by Sarkozy keeps contempt alive. Only once we desuperiorize ourselves can we become a partner worthy of participation in serious discussion with post-colonial Africa.

Western Society Must Overcome Contempt The first step in this direction lies in the development of elative ethics, or to be more precise: elative ethics of matters of the heart. It is simply not justifiable that a black person should be of less value than a white person, no matter how this contempt may be repacked (economic neo-liberal globalization), veiled (political rhetoric), or ignored (contemporary Western philosophical thought). That is not to deny that differences might be found. It stands to reason that things can be different without having to be able to be placed within a normative hierarchy. We firmly oppose the contention that these differences must have normative consequences – especially if these differences enable the oppression of the respective other. The normative

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interpretation of the differences between Africa and Europe by Europe was purely arbitrary. Nothing forced us to perceive these differences as normative differences, nothing forced us to interpret them in an Africa-inferiorizing and Europe-superiorizing way. Nothing forced us to oppress Africa, there was no necessity to do so whatsoever. It was done because it was possible. But a possibility like this simply has no normative implications. And even if this possibility were to legitimize any sort of realization, then non-oppression could be justified using the same argumentation, as this is indeed also possible. In order to avoid terminological misunderstandings: we use the term elative from the perspective of grammatical functionality: the elative is grammatically an absolute superlative, and not a relative superlative that expresses greatness in comparison, but rather one that refers to greatness in absolute terms. When we say, for example, that there is the most beautiful weather today, we are referring to this beauty with an absolute superlative, without needing to relate this beauty to something less beautiful: we celebrate this beauty as beauty sui generis. Comparisons are completely irrelevant. We must understand that it is possible to value ourselves, even to the greatest extent, without devaluing others. We recognize that the other is not simply different, but something that is somebody else’s own, the matter of the heart of another, which may function differently, which may arrive at different results, but which may never ever be condemned on the basis of being different to that which is one’s own (see Fanon 1952, 206). This valuing of a matter of the heart of another person toward his or her own is a moral task on an individual and, by extension, a national level.

Practice of Elative Ethics: Material Difference, Formal Identity Our assumption is that to acknowledge one’s own matter of the heart and at the same time another’s matter of the heart, we do not have to focus on the material difference of facticity, but on the formal identity of existentiality. (We have developed the concept of material difference in more detail in Freter (2017c).) With facticity we do not refer to an objective reality, but to that which we perceive as reality, that which we assume, either tacitly or expressly, to be something that is as it is. (We have developed the concepts of facticity and existentiality within the framework of a phenomenology of normativity in Freter (2016). We have developed this phenomenology further and applied it to different contexts in Freter (2015b, 2017b, 2018, 2019).) Facticity is thus not only an ontological term applying to that which is, but at the same time a hermeneutic term applying to the interpretation of being. With existentiality, or as we could also say, existential practice, we refer to realization as the creation of existential facts. While facticity is to be understood as referring to reality and the assumption of reality at the same time, existentiality refers to the positing of reality. Within the framework of facticity, we are able to augment reality with existential facts. Existentiality refers to that within reality that we create or assume to create. Given that we want to overcome contempt, to decolonize, to desuperiorize, and finally want to act according to our moral foundations and actually work on

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creating a non-oppressive world, we need to focus on the formal identity of different existentialities. This is essential to moving from contempt to an honest appreciation, to a non-inferiorizing tolerance. We need to acknowledge differences in our approaches to reality. These differences are deep and very often they are impossible to overcome. However, these differences should not seduce us to inferiorize the Other. If one wants to acknowledge the other who lives based on his or her different facticity and is thus existentially practical in a different way than we are, then we need to turn our focus from the matter of his or her existentiality to the form of his or her existentiality. In doing so, we can acknowledge the other by trying to take him or her seriously in his or her existential practice, which may be different from ours. We are thus able to appreciate that the other, too has devoted him- or herself seriously to his or her matter of the heart. And this seriousness, this form of existential practice, can just be of the same seriousness with which we turn to our very own matter of the heart. This formal identification of and with seriousness, and not the material differences, needs to be at the center of attention. (This passage relies heavily on the preliminary studies done in Freter (2017c). Here we provide a discussion of an example of material difference and formal identity within the context of interreligious dialogue.) It is of highest importance to take differences between us seriously and to appreciate the care taken within each existential practice. It may be that there are points of disagreement, but the other’s existential practices can nevertheless be taken seriously, even if they are – from a specific point of view – factually wrong. Mutual acknowledgement of this seriousness allows us to admit the factual difference without rejection of the other. If we take the other seriously, we acknowledge that something is important to the other – this is the relevant existential formal identity – not what he or she cares about – this is the irrelevant existential material difference. We need to end the unfounded normative superiority of our own and the inferred unfounded normative inferiority of the non-own. We acknowledge the Other as one who also has something of their own, their own matter of the heart. We avoid inferiorizing the Other by acknowledging the Other as someone with a matter of the heart, that, because it is a matter of the heart, has the same dignity as our matter of the heart. We acknowledge the Other as one of our kind, his or her matter of the heart is existentially-formally identical to ours. We need to acknowledge Africa as Africa and not inferiorize it by interpreting it as a normatively inferior Not- or Not-Yet-Europe.

Practically Adhering to Moral Values This approach has, if one honestly takes the ethical foundations of Europe such as the equality of all human beings seriously, virtually no theoretical consequences, as it simply adheres to the existing expressed principle. However, it has massive practical consequences, on a personal and on a national-political level, because of the strange gap between the West’s moral foundations and its moral actions. We finally need – if the desire is there – to make a reality what Eurowestern culture has been preaching since at least the European Enlightenment. We must stop exploiting

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Africa and our imperialistic way of life. We need to understand that to stop exploitation is not a restriction of our way of life at all; it is nothing but the celebration of our freedom to practice what we preach. Since we are particularly directing this call for action to Western scholars, we must add that it is also time to open our minds to appreciate what Africa willingly contributes: its thinking. We need to start reading African philosophers, open our curricula to African philosophy, and recognize that philosophy is not a Western invention but a shared existential practice of humanity as a whole. The “intellectual activity called philosophy” is in fact of “universal character” (Gyekye 1995, ix).

Conclusion Our journey has begun. We have traversed Sarkozy’s strange Dakar Address and listened to the voices of African scholars and arrived at the insight that the West finally needs to practice what it has historically preached in terms of equality and human rights. We Western thinkers must fight our tendencies toward superiorization and desuperiorize ourselves. This desuperiorization must be the West’s project that flanks the decolonization of Africa. If the West truly wishes to be a part of one united humanity, we must all be in a position to trust each other. We Western scholars should begin to work on our part of this work on unity. This means beginning to earn this trust through practical decolonization and establishing an elative ethics of matters of the heart. Acknowledgments I would like to thank the many colleagues who have assisted me in my work in various ways, especially those at conferences at Ekpoma and Calabar, Nigeria, and Richards Bay and Chintsa, South Africa. Very special thanks go to my colleagues from Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma: Dr. Elvis Imafidon; the Acting Head of Department of Philosophy, Dr. Matthew A. Izibili; and the Dean of the Faculty of Arts, Rev. Fr. Prof. John A. Onimhawo. Additionally, I would like to thank very much Ewa Latecka (University of Zululand, Richard’s Bay) and Professor Mogobe Ramose (University of South Africa, Pretoria). I wholeheartedly thank Dr. Yvette Prinsloo Franklin (University of Tennessee, Knoxville) for most valuable comments on the manuscript and dedicate this work to her.

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V.Y. Mudimbe’s Archaeological Reading of Africa’s Difference in Cultural History Asma Agzenay

Contents The Legacy of Claude Lévi-Strauss and Michel Foucault . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Representations of Africa’s Difference in Sixteenth-Century European Culture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Anthropological Critique of Foucault’s Account of Sixteenth-Century Culture . . . . . . . . . . The Limits of Foucault’s Model of the Other . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Foucault’s Archaeological Documentation of the Other . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Blind Spots of Foucault’s Archaeology of Sixteenth-Century Culture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Limits of Mudimbe’s Archaeological Reading of Africa’s Difference . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mudimbe’s Recuperation of Africa’s Identity and Difference . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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This chapter interrogates V.Y. Mudimbe’s archaeological reading of the representation and inscription of Africa’s difference in cultural history, in The Invention of Africa (1988). It sees Mudimbe’s archaeological approach to Africa’s difference in cultural history as moving beyond Eurocentrism and Afrocentrism, yet as uncritically taking for granted Foucault’s archaeology of the Same and the Other. The concerns of this chapter are twofold. On the one hand, it brings to view the major blind spots of Foucault’s archaeology of the Other in The Order of Things (1966, 1970). On the other hand, it sees Mudimbe’s archaeological approach to Africa’s difference in cultural history as constrained by the limitations of Foucault’s archaeology of the Other. My analyses of Mudimbe’s project critically engage with the anthropological, philosophical, and historical issues raised by his archaeological reading of Africa’s identity and difference in cultural history.

A. Agzenay (*) Department of English, Ibn Zohr University, Agadir, Morocco e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_7

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Keywords

Foucault’s archaeology of the Other · Mudimbe’s archaeology of Africa’s difference · History of the exotic versus Foucault’s archaeology

One of the major interventions on Africa’s cultural identity and difference in postAfrocentric thought is V.Y. Mudimbe’s The Invention of Africa: Gnosis, Philosophy, and the Order of Knowledge (1988). The book is proposed by Mudimbe as an “archaeology of African Gnosis as a system of knowledge” (See Mudimbe 1988, x). “African Gnosis” refers, in a general sense, to African knowledge as produced by Africans. As used by Mudimbe, “African Gnosis” designates African systems of thought that avoid colonial traditions of knowledge on Africa and their Eurocentric bias. The attempt to produce an “African Gnosis,” in this sense, already marks several generations of African intellectuals, across various fields of African knowledge. As an African Gnosis, Mudimbe’s The Invention of Africa breaks with Africanist and Afrocentric traditions of knowledge on Africa’s difference. Mudimbe’s archaeology of Africanist and Afrocentric discourses documents various forms of “Africanizing” knowledge, their “invented” images of Africa, and the affiliations of Africanist discourses with colonial power (Ibid., Cf. x-xi). Using Foucault’s archaeological methodology, Mudimbe rewrites and redefines Africa’s cultural identity and difference beyond Eurocentric, colonial, and Afrocentric discourses. Mudimbe’s archaeological documentation and analysis of Africa’s difference matches the scope of colonial and postcolonial cultural history. It accommodates sixteenth and twentieth-century European culture and includes European and African discourses on Africa’s difference. The concerns of the present chapter are with Mudimbe’s archaeological reading of Africa’s difference in sixteenth-century European art, and they are twofold. On the one hand, my discussions of Mudimbe’s archaeological reading of Africa’s difference throw into question the methodological constraints and consequences of Mudimbe’s uncritical reliance on Michel Foucault’s archaeology of the Other in The Order of Things (1970). On the other hand, this chapter engages with Mudimbe’s reliance on some anthropological accounts on Africa’s difference, and its implications for Mudimbe’s reading of representations of Africa’s difference in sixteenth-century European art.

The Legacy of Claude Lévi-Strauss and Michel Foucault Mudimbe’s archaeological analysis of Africa’s difference sees representations of Africa as marked by the major epistemic changes that took place in Western cultural history. As documented by Mudimbe, classical anthropology is accused of the invention of a primitive Africa. It projects Africans either as archaic or primitive and denies history and rationality to African cultures (Ibid., Cf. 69, 193, and 195). Even by the 1920s, anthropology still claimed a radical difference between a rational

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West and “primitives.” For example, Lévy-Bruhl’s anthropological writings project a radical difference between the rational West and “primitives.” While classical anthropology was responsible for inventing a “primitive Africa,” it was also affiliated with colonialism and colonial power (Ibid., Cf. 17, 20, and 135). According to Mudimbe: Up to the 1920s, the entire framework of African social studies was consistent with the rationale of an epistemological field and its socio-political expressions of conquest. Even those social realities, such as art, languages, or oral literature, which might have constituted an introduction to otherness, were repressed in support of theories of sameness. (Ibid., 83)

By contrast, the new trends of anthropology that emerged after the 1920s – exemplified by Maurice Godelier, Leo Frobenius, and Georges Balandier – mark an epistemological break with classical anthropology and its Eurocentric models. Such new trends of anthropology are seen as moving beyond the “paradigm of the Same,” in Foucault’s sense of the concept, which postulates Western man as a norm. Thus, rather than seeing Africa as primitive, both Frobenius and Godelier see Africa as conforming to the image of European man and European civilization (Ibid., Cf. 80–81 and 88–89. The concept of the “Same” as used by Foucault will be clarified further in the appropriate context). For example, Godelier moves beyond the long-established dichotomy of “primitive” versus “advanced” in anthropology. Apart from this, Godelier’s comparative studies of primitive African and European systems of thought suggest similarities between their respective epistemic systems (Ibid., 30). Such ideological and epistemological shifts in modern anthropology are traced to the legacy of Claude Lévi-Strauss and Michel Foucault. Both Lévi-Strauss and Foucault are credited for promoting non-Eurocentric trends of thought in modern anthropology and across all disciplines in the Human Sciences. Mudimbe’s reappraisal of Foucault and Lévi-Strauss underlines their epistemological break with the “paradigm of the Same” and its arrogance. As used by Mudimbe, the “paradigm of the Same” refers to Eurocentric historicism – the projection of Western culture, Western history, and Western man as a norm and model in anthropology. In the case of Lévi-Strauss, such break beyond Eurocentrism is conveyed by his anti-ethnocentric and anti-historicist project in anthropology. It is epitomized by Lévi-Strauss’s rejection of dialectical Reason and his move beyond Western culture as a normative model (Ibid., Cf. 33–34). In the case of Foucault, “Foucault’s horizon is, one might say, a relativization of the truth of the Same in the dispersion of history; in other words, ‘a decentralizing that leaves no privilege to any center’” (Ibid., 34). For example, Foucault’s archaeological methodology is seen as opening up a space within which the “Same” and the Other can be rewritten and redefined beyond Eurocentric narratives of cultural history. It also allows for a new methodological approach to alterity, as conveyed by Foucault’s writings on Madness as the Other of Reason (Ibid., Cf. 34). Mudimbe underlines the relevance of LéviStrauss and Foucault for African self-knowledge as follows: I think that the positions of Lévi-Strauss and Foucault signify new critical symbols as well as invitations to redefine and rework or transform the history of the Same. (Ibid., 34)

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Mudimbe’s project to write an archaeology of Africa’s difference is clearly situated within the space opened up by Claude Lévi-Strauss and Michel Foucault and reflects their legacy.

Representations of Africa’s Difference in Sixteenth-Century European Culture Mudimbe uses Foucault’s archaeological account on the epistemic system of the sixteenth-century European culture to analyze contemporary Western perceptions of African difference. As described by Foucault’s account of the sixteenth-century culture, the overriding feature of the sixteenth-century episteme is the power of discourse and representation as the basis of knowledge and truth (Cf. Foucault (1966), trans. by Tavistock, The Order of Things (London: Tavistock, 1970), 311. All my references, hereafter, are to the English edition of Foucault’s book). As documented by Foucault, the epistemic order underlying sixteenth-century culture is also seen as a closed cultural system dominated by “Similitude.” This has two basic configurations at the level of representation. On the one hand, language and representation are seen as mediating and reflecting the correspondence between “words” and “things.” Hence, “[t]he relation of languages to the world is one of analogy rather than signification; or rather, their value as signs and their duplicating function are superimposed” (Ibid., 37, and Cf. 17–25 for Foucault’s detailed characterization of the epistemic system of “Similitude”). What is emphasized by Foucault is that representation in sixteenth-century culture amounts to a binary correspondence between “words” and “things.” Any representation of anything is seen to express similarities between “words” and “things.” On the other hand, the function of representation is seen as limited to an expression of “Similitude” between “language” and “things.” According to Foucault: Up to the end of the sixteenth century, resemblance played a constructive role in the knowledge of Western culture. It was resemblance that largely guided exegesis and the interpretation of texts; it was resemblance that organized the play of symbols, made possible knowledge of things visible and invisible, and controlled the art of representing them (Ibid., 17).

The sixteenth-century episteme was marked by “Similitude.” It was thus defined by linguistic and semiotic closure. Even visual representations were marked by “Similitude.” It is noteworthy that the opening chapter of The Order of Things is entitled La Meninas and is devoted to an archaeological analysis of this Spanish painting (Ibid., see 3–16). For Foucault, Velàzquez’s painting, Las Meninas, epitomizes the representational function of representation itself in sixteenth-century culture. As such, it embodies the Western experience of “Similitude” as the epistemic configuration of sixteenth-century culture. Foucault’s analysis of this painting underlines the fact that the object of representation in Las Meninas is modelled on King Philip IV and his wife, Mariana. As a matter of fact, King Philip and Princess

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Mariana appear in the mirror as the hidden model of the painting. Hence for Foucault, the real object of representation in Las Meninas is representation itself. In other words, such painting is about representation itself. And such visual representation explicitly embodies the duplicating nature of representation in sixteenthcentury culture. For these reasons, La Meninas is seen as embodying the epistemic order of “Similitude” governing sixteenth-century culture. This is emphatically conveyed by Foucault when he states, for instance: Perhaps there exists, in the painting by Velàzquez, the representation as it were, of Classical representation, and the definition of the space it opens up to us. And, indeed, representation undertakes to represent itself here in all its elements, with its images, the eyes to which it is offered, the faces it makes visible, the gestures that call it into being (Ibid., 16).

In a section entitled, “Discursive Formations and Otherness,” Mudimbe surveys visual representations of African Otherness in European art between the early sixteenth and the late seventeenth centuries (Mudimbe, The Invention of Africa, see 5–16). Mudimbe’s archaeological analysis of Hans Burgkmair’s Exotic Tribe (1508) situates this painting in the sixteenth-century episteme of Foucault’s The Order of Things. It explores this painting with reference to the established canonical conventions of sixteenth-century art. The representation of black Africans in Exotic Tribe is seen as mediated by contemporary ethnographic accounts on Africa and as modelled on Italian men. The painting is seen as highlighting the sameness of Africans to Europeans, as playing down racial differences (Ibid., Cf. 7–8). Burgkmair’s Africans are seen as constituted by relations of “Similitude,” in Foucault’s sense of the concept. At the level of thematic representation, such “Similitude” is conveyed by the representation of black Africans as “blackened whites” in Exotic Tribe. Hence for Mudimbe, “It [the painting] should bear witness to the truth of similarities, analogies, and possibly even the violence of antipathy” (Ibid., 7). As a representation of African difference, Exotic Tribe is basically seen as emphasizing the human sameness of Africans to Europeans. Burgkmair’s painting is also seen as expressing the epistemic order of “Similitude” in and through its representation of African difference. The traces of the epistemic configurations of “Similitude” in Exotic Tribe are described as follows by Mudimbe: Briefly, I can say that in Burgkmair’s painting there are two representational activities: on the one hand, signs of an epistemological order which, silently but imperatively, indicate the processes of integrating and differentiating figures within the normative sameness; on the other hand, the excellence of an exotic picture that creates a cultural distance, thanks to an accumulation of accidental differences, namely, nakedness, blackness, curly hair, bracelets, and strings of pearls (Ibid., 9).

Such cultural perception of African difference was not limited to Burgkmair’s Exotic Tribe (1508), however. Rather it is seen as commonplace in sixteenth and most seventeenth-century art. Mudimbe’s survey of the artistic filiations of Burgkmair’s painting emphatically suggests that such perception and representation of African difference was actually part of the established canonical conventions of

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contemporary art. It was actually shared by all visual representations of African difference between the late fifteenth and early seventeenth centuries. For example, Exotic Tribe is seen as sharing the same canonical conventions with Erasmus’s Moor Dancers (1480) (Ibid., Cf. 7–9). Mudimbe sees representations of African difference in this period as emphasizing the theme of human similarities between African man and European man, as reducing and neutralizing racial difference. Such cultural perception of African difference is traced with reference to sixteenth and early seventeenth-century paintings (Ibid., Cf. 8–9). For Mudimbe: [t]his was not rare during the sixteenth and the seventeenth centuries, as a great number of the drawings of the period reveal. That is the case for example, of the fifth picture in Filippo Pigaffeta’s 1591 edition of his Relatione del Reame di Congo, representing three Italianized African women, and that of the African king in the frontispiece of J. Ogilby’s 1670 book on Africa. (Ibid., 8)

Mudimbe’s archaeological analysis of representations of African difference in European paintings situates such representations within the epistemic formations of sixteenth and seventeenth-century culture. It emphatically identifies an epistemic shift around the 1620s in Western representations of African difference. For Mudimbe, visual representations of African difference after 1620 no longer convey the theme of human sameness. They no longer express the episteme of “Similitude.” After 1620, artistic representations of African difference rather emphasize racial difference. Mudimbe cites Rembrandt’s Two Negros (1697) and Hyacinthe Rigaud’s Young Black (1697) as two exemplary instances of such epistemic shift in seventeenth-century cultural perceptions of African alterity (Ibid., Cf. 9). For Foucault, Las Meninas epitomizes “Similitude” as the epistemic function and limit of representation in sixteenth-century Western culture. Mudimbe’s archaeological analyses of African difference in Exotic Tribe use La Meninas as an analytical model of visual representation in sixteenth-century Western culture. He also draws attention to structural symmetries underlying these two paintings (Ibid., see 6–7). As conveyed by Mudimbe’s analyses, both paintings are seen to express the epistemic order of “Similitude” suggested by Foucault. Although difference is both the theme and the object of representation in Exotic Tribe, this painting is still seen as dominated by the theme of “sameness,” as embodying Foucault’s episteme of “Similitude.” Mudimbe’s archaeological reading and analysis of the cultural perception and representation of African difference in sixteenth-century European culture are consistent with Foucault’s archaeological methodology. Yet as will be shown with evidence further, they are totally discontinuous with Foucault’s archaeological documentation of the Other in The Order of Things. As such, they cannot be supported with reference to Foucault’s The Order of Things, partly on account of Foucault’s failure to document the Other (Foucault’s failure to document the Other in The Order of Things will be discussed at length further). Considered from this perspective, Mudimbe’s analysis of African difference in contemporary cultural history actually reads the Other in cultural history beyond Foucault (1966; 1970). Hence Mudimbe’s archaeology of African difference can be considered as an illuminating supplement to Foucault’s The Order of Things. Overall, Mudimbe’s

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archaeological analysis of the cultural assimilation of African difference in sixteenth-century European culture raises two crucial questions and issues. One is the Western experience of exotic alterity and its cultural inscriptions in sixteenthcentury European culture. The other is the adequacy of Mudimbe’s archaeological reading of African difference to anthropological history. The best starting point for addressing such complex issues is to examine the anthropological and postcolonial critiques of Foucault’s handling of the ethnographic Other.

The Anthropological Critique of Foucault’s Account of SixteenthCentury Culture Considered from the perspective of critical anthropology – notably, Affergan (1987) – Foucault’s claim that the sixteenth-century episteme was sealed by “Similitude” is inadequate to Western cultural history (Affergan (1987). Affergan’s critical comments on Foucault are scattered and fragmentary. They are also limited to Foucault’s claims on sixteenth and early seventeenth-century culture as ordered by the episteme of “Similitude”). Such claim is seen as contradicted, in part, by the Western experience and assimilation of the radical alterity of the New World. It is also contradicted by the fact that the experience of the Other and exotic, in sixteenthcentury Western culture, was marked by hermeneutical and linguistic difficulties, rather than “Similitude.” It is useful to briefly overview Affergan’s critique of Foucault’s account on the sixteenth-century episteme. For Affergan (1987), the Western experience of the exotic Other in sixteenthcentury Western culture actually counterpoints the epistemic closure imposed on it by Foucault. Hence, for example, to see the sixteenth-century episteme as sealed by “Similitude” is to ignore the discovery of America and the entry of the Other into contemporary Western culture as a phenomenon of radical alterity. Apart from this, the Western cultural encounter with the radical alterity of the New World far overrides the epistemic closure imposed by Foucault’s account of the sixteenth-century episteme as a cultural system dominated by “Similitude.” Contrary to what Foucault suggests, sixteenth-century representations of the ethnographic Other actually emphasize the difference between the Western Self and the exotic Other (Ibid., Cf. 55–56). Given this, Foucault’s account cannot accommodate the Western experience of the exotic (and exotic alterity) in sixteenth-century Western culture in Affergan’s view. For Affergan (1987), the experience of the exotic in sixteenthcentury Western culture cannot be seen as exhausted by Foucault’s episteme of “Similitude.” Contrary to what Foucault suggests, “Desire for the exotic” in sixteenth-century culture actually suggests an articulation of Western consciousness on culture, subjectivity, and history that far overrides Foucault’s account on the sixteenth-century episteme. It also overrides Hegel’s Master/Slave Dialectic (Ibid., Cf. 15–16 and 55–56). While not denying that sixteenth-century Western culture was founded on a correspondence between “signs” and “things” as Foucault suggests, Affergan argues that the ethnographic Other in contemporary culture cannot be accounted for in

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terms of Foucault’s episteme of “Similitude.” Far from reflecting the epistemic order of “Similitude,” sixteenth-century ethnographic and travel accounts on the exotic Other actually register an irreducible discrepancy and incommensurability between the Western Self and the ethnographic Other (Ibid., CF. 55 and 110). Contrary to Foucault’s claim that the sixteenth-century episteme was ordered, in its totality, by a correspondence between “words” and “things,” naming the exotic Other was actually an unsurmountable problem in sixteenth-century Western culture. This is amply conveyed by the aporiatic and schematic character of various cultural representations of the alterity of the exotic in sixteenth-century culture, including linguistic representations (Ibid., Cf. 33 and 63–64). Sixteenth-century representations of the negro, the barbarian, and the savage were remarkably marked by an incommensurability between “language” and “things.” Instances of such incommensurabilities are traced by Affergan (1987) to the absence of an adequate word designating the “black” in sixteenth-century French language, as conveyed by a contemporary French dictionary. Here the entries of Noirci and Sauvagin are meant to designate “black” but clearly convey a misnaming of the “negro” and “savage.” The words “nègre” (negro) and “sauvage” (savage) were not available yet in contemporary French language. Hence, such imaginary words as Noirci and Sauvagin were used, instead, to stand for “nègre” and “sauvage.” Such words as Noirci and Sauvagin were thus used to fill the void of still non-existing adequate words that could represent, in a binary fashion, exotic and strange beings (Ibid., Cf. 110–11. The French dictionary is E. Huguet’s Dictionnaire de la Langue Française du XVIème Siècle (Paris: Champion 1925; Didier, 1945). The quoted entry on sauvagin makes reference to strange and imaginary creatures that have no literal or adequate referent in reality). The words Noirci and Sauvagin thus suggest, with evidence, how exotic alterity could not be represented in a binary fashion in and through language, in sixteenth-century Western culture. Affergan’s anthropological critique of Foucault is remarkably brief and sketchy. Nevertheless, it cannot be ignored or sidelined, since it provides evidence on the cultural inscription of the ethnographic Other and exotic beyond Foucault’s The Order of Things. It is important to explore Foucault’s documentation of the Other further, from a set of postcolonial perspectives, in order to see their implications for his archaeological documentation of the Other.

The Limits of Foucault’s Model of the Other Michel Foucault’s ethico-political project as a historian of alterity has long been taken for granted. For example, for Robert Young (1990), Foucault is credited for opening a space for the Other (and alterity) in discourse, knowledge, and history (Cf. Young (1990), 71. Robert Young devotes a whole chapter to Foucault as a philosopher of alterity. Yet his discussions of Foucault’s archaeology of the Other are limited to Madness as the Other and never address the ethnographic, cultural, or colonial Other). Such positive reappraisal of Foucault as a historian of alterity is one-sided, however, since it sidelines Foucault’s handling of the ethnographic Other.

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It also counterpoints the major postcolonial critiques of Foucault’s approach to the Other. For example, despite their commitment to Michel Foucault, all of Edward Said, Gayatri Spivak, and Homi Bhabha have long been critical of Foucault’s Eurocentrism. For Said (1986), Foucault fails to move beyond “the imagination of power.” For Bhabha (1994), Michel Foucault’s approach to cultural difference is marked by Eurocentrism. Like other poststructuralist philosophers, Foucault does not escape the charge of the foreclosure of the Other and the Eurocentric containment of cultural difference (Cf. Bhabha (1994), 31 and 243). In “Can the Subaltern Speak?”, Gayatri Spivak blames Foucault for “foreclosing” the Subaltern subject, tracing this as an epistemic violence. She also sees Foucault as constituting the ethnographic Other as the “Self’s shadow,” as replicating the colonial subject as the Other. For Spivak, the Other as a subject is inscribed as a “blank” in Foucault’s writings and in poststructuralist philosophy, in general. Given this, the recovery of the “Subaltern” in Subaltern Studies is possible only by moving beyond Poststructuralist theory (Cf. Spivak (1993), pp. 75–76 and 78). G. Spivak’s A Critique of Postcolonial Reason (1999) engages with the inscription of the ethnographic and colonial Other in Western discourse, culture, and history. One of her illuminating theses sees the texts of E. Kant, G.W.F. Hegel, and K. Marx as “foreclosing” the Other as a “native informant.” Drawing on Sigmund Freud and Jacques Lacan, Spivak’s Deconstructive analysis of the Other sees its inscription in Western cultural history as marked by the expulsion (or “foreclosure”) of the Other from “Man.” Such inscription of the Other in Western discourse, culture, and history exemplified by Kant is one in which “[t]he native informant (‘lesser breeds beyond the law ?’) slips out of the Ennoncé/Satz/statement of being human” (Spivak (1999), 5, and Cf.5–6). Such cultural history of the ethnographic Other and its various inscriptions in Western cultural history are seen as inaccessible through Foucault’s The Order of Things. Michel Foucault’s archaeology of Western cultural history successfully moves beyond all forms of Historicism and historicist master narratives on history, including Hegelian Dialectics and Marxism. As a postmodern philosopher of alterity, Foucault is credited for his archaeology of Western cultural history as an alternative narrative on difference in history. By writing an archaeology of Madness as the Other of Western culture, Foucault is also credited for opening up a new space for alternative forms of knowledge and alternative representations of the Other (Cf. Young, White Mythologies, 71, and see 73 ff. Young’s critical discussion of Foucault’s conception of difference in History is illuminating, yet it totally sidelines its implications for the cultural, ethnographic, and colonial Other). Foucault never produced an archaeology of the ethnographic, cultural, or colonial Other, however. The question is: Of what relevance is Foucault’s archaeology of Western cultural history – particularly, the Same and the Other, and Madness – to the ethnographic and colonial Other? The legacy of Foucault’s archaeology of the Same and the Other has long been established in Postcolonial Theory since Said’s Orientalism (1978). As a matter of fact, the postcolonial critique of Foucault has either taken Foucault’s archaeology of the Same and the Other for granted or sidelined its limitations. This is why Francis Affergan’s critique is relevant to any critical discussion of the

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ethnographic and colonial Other. It is necessary to critically overview Foucault’s archaeological account on the Other beyond the postcolonial critique of Foucault, in order to see what issues it raises for Mudimbe’s archaeology of African difference.

Foucault’s Archaeological Documentation of the Other The Order of Things was intended as an archaeological documentation of the Same and the Other. Paradoxically, Foucault’s project in this book is described as follows: But whereas in the history of madness I was investigating the way in which a culture can determine in a massive, general form the difference that limits it, I am concerned here with observing how a culture experiences the propinquity of things, how it establishes the tabula of their relationships and the order by which they must be considered. I am concerned, in short, with a history of resemblance . . . (Foucault, The Order of Things, xxiv. My emphasis).

As conveyed by Foucault’s Preface, Foucault’s project is limited to “a history of resemblance” – i.e., an archaeological history of the “Same.” Foucault totally sidelines the history of the ethnographic Other, its inscriptions in Western cultural history, and its alternative histories. Central to Foucault’s project is his intention to write an alternative history of Western cultural history and its Other. As a matter of fact, Foucault’s archaeology of Western cultural history is successfully documented in The Order of Things. But it does not include an archaeology of the ethnographic, cultural, or colonial Other and the alterity of their cultural histories. It is not until Chap. 9, “Man and His Doubles,” that Foucault addresses the cultural inscription of the ethnographic Other in Western culture. Foucault casts the emergence of anthropology in the nineteenth century as a phenomenon of the culture of modernity. By limiting his documentation of the Other to the nineteenth century, Foucault obviously sidelines the long-standing history of the ethnographic Other and its overlapping with colonial cultural history. It is as if the Western ethnographic and colonial encounters with the Other in premodern culture are not important, or the assimilation of the ethnographic Other makes sense only from the Splitting of Man/the Other in nineteenth-century culture. For example, Foucault avoids the inscriptions of Man/the ethnographic Other in Kant, Hegel, and Marx and refers to them sparingly. Two things are emphasized in Foucault’s archaeological account on the inscription of Man/the Other in the culture of modernity, however. The first of these is the inscription of Man as a subject and object of knowledge in nineteenthcentury systems of thought. Second, Foucault’s archaeological descriptions of the Splitting of Man/the ethnographic Other underline the inscription of the Other as the “unthought.” Foucault states: Man has not been able to describe himself as a configuration of the episteme without thought at the same time discovering, both in itself and outside itself, at its borders yet also in its very warp and woof, an element of darkness, an apparently inert density in which it is embedded, an unthought which it contains entirely, yet in which it is also caught. (Ibid, 326)

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Foucault’s documentation of the ethnographic Other in The Order of Things is limited to the inscription of the ethnographic Other as the “unthought” in nineteenthcentury culture. According to Foucault: The unthought (whatever name we give it) is not lodged in man like a shrivelled-up nature or a stratified history; it is, in relation to man, the Other: the Other that is not only a brother but a twin, born, not of man, nor in man, but beside him and at the same time, in an identical newness, in an unavoidable duality. (Ibid., 326)

Two things are emphasized by such inscription of the “Other” in nineteenthcentury thought: on the one hand, the Other as the “unthought,” as “Man’s double” and his shadow and, on the other hand, the “unthought” as an “an element of darkness” and its indispensability to Man. Instead of writing an alternative history of the Other, Foucault replicates the Other as the “unthought.” Foucault also disregards the historical and discursive affiliations of ethnography with colonialism (Ibid., Cf. 326, and see 377–378. For the affiliation of anthropology with colonialism, see Talal Asad, Anthropology and the Colonial Encounter (New York: The Humanities Press, (1973)). Such archaeological documentation of the ethnographic Other is marked by – and re-enacts – the “foreclosure” of the Other in Western discourse, culture, and history suggested by Spivak (1999). Despite Foucault’s (1970) commitment to writing a history that does not turn the Other into the “Same,” his archaeology of the Other is licensed by Eurocentric historicism. Toward the end of The Order of Things, Foucault acknowledges the historicist and epistemological limitations of anthropology from Kant to the twentieth century. He also suggests that anthropology should move beyond “Man” as a sovereign subject (Ibid., see 340–342). This raises the difficult questions: To what extent does Foucault’s archaeology of the “Same” and the “Other” provide an adequate model for approaching ethnographic, colonial, and cultural difference? To what extent can an archaeological reading/rewriting of ethnographic, cultural, or colonial alterity, for instance, provide an alternative history of the Other?

The Blind Spots of Foucault’s Archaeology of Sixteenth-Century Culture Speaking with reference to the sixteenth-century episteme, Foucault states: In the vast syntax of the world, the different beings adjust themselves to one another; the plant communicates with the animal, the earth with the sea, man with everything around him. Resemblance imposes adjacencies that in turn guarantee further resemblances. (Ibid., 18)

What Foucault is explicitly suggesting here is that in sixteenth-century European culture, representations of alterity were mediated by the epistemic order of “Similitude.” Paradoxically, although Foucault makes reference to “the different beings” of the world, he never supports such claim with instances of ethnographic or cultural

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difference. Nor does he make reference to contemporary textual (or visual) representations of the ethnographic Other, despite the compelling presence of representations of the ethnographic Other in sixteenth-century Western culture. Given this, The Order of Things actually begs the question of how the ethnographic Other was experienced, represented, and assimilated in sixteenth-century culture. The absence of ethnographic evidence on such claimed inscription of alterity as “similitude” is a major blind spot in Foucault’s archaeology of the Other in The Order of Things. Foucault’s Preface to The Order of Things cites Borges’s Chinese encyclopedia as an instance of the exotic Other, qualifying the Chinese catalogue of animals as the limit of Western thought. Yet with the exception of his fleeting reference to the “exotic charm of another system of thought,” the question of the exotic Other is never addressed, in a book documenting and rewriting the Western experience of alterity and its archaeological histories (Ibid., Cf. xv). As an archaeology of Western cultural history, Foucault’s book is frustratingly marked by the absence of the ethnographic Other and the alterity of its history, between the sixteenth and the nineteenth centuries. Foucault’s acknowledgment of the incompleteness of The Order of Things comes up again and again in his interviews. For example, Foucault suggests that Les Mots et Les Choses (1966; 1970) was not intended as a complete archaeological account of Western cultural history. Foucault also acknowledges the ambiguous status of the book and the unevenness of his project. In The Archaeology of Knowledge, Foucault declares that his archaeology of Western cultural history in The Order of Things was intended to be incomplete, for methodological reasons (Foucault (1994), 1681 ff. Cf. also Michel Foucault (1969), pp. 158–160). The incompleteness of Foucault’s project throws into question the adequacy of archaeological methodology for approaching cultural and ethnographic difference in culture, discourse, and history. To Western cultural historians and critics, for example, Tzvetan Todorov (1982), the discovery of America represents a major event in Western cultural history. For example, the discovery of America marks the beginning of a new experience of the Other in the history of the Western experience of the Other (Cf. Tzvetan Todorov, La Conquête de l’Amérique: la Question de l’Autre (Paris : le Seuil, (1982), 13). Despite its importance to Western cultural history, the Western encounter with America is not even mentioned in Foucault’s account on the sixteenth-century episteme. This is surely another major blind spot in Foucault’s archaeology of the Other in The Order of Things. It is useful to explore the Western cultural encounter with America as a counter-example to Foucault’s claims on the sixteenth-century episteme as an episteme ordered by “Similitude.” As characterized by Todorov (1982), the Western encounter with America was an encounter with “radical alterity” – i.e., extreme cultural and ethnographic difference. As conveyed with evidence throughout Todorov’s book, the Western encounter with America was marked by the recognition and rejection of the alterity of America (Ibid. Cf. 67. It is noteworthy that Todorov’s focus is on the Western experience and assimilation of the alterity of America during the sixteenth century). It was also marked by hermeneutical difficulties. One important configuration of such hermeneutical difficulties is the conflict of signification

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raised by the Western versus Indian semiotic and cultural systems (For an account on the incommensurabilities of the Spanish and Indian cultural systems, see, for example, the section entitled “Comprendre, Prendre, et Détruire,” 163–185). As an instance of the Western cultural assimilation of the Other, the cultural encounter with America contradicts Foucault’s account on sixteenth-century culture as a cultural system ordered by “Similitude.” As described by Michel Foucault, the sixteenth-century episteme is a closed structure sealed by the episteme of “Similitude.” The only figure of the Other/alterity documented and identified by name in this epistemic system, in The Order of Things, is “Madness” as the Other of “Reason.” Madness is identified as a figure of alterity in Cervantes’s novel, Don Quixote. Don Quixote, the protagonist, is characterized as “a man alienated in analogy” and “the disordered player of the Same and the Other.” Don Quixote’s insistent quest for similarities between “words” (representation) and “things” in a world devoid of similitude leads him to the brink of madness (Cf. Foucault, The Order of Things, 46–49). In Madness and Civilization, as in The Order of Things, Foucault documents the epistemic shifts involving the Same and the Other around the beginning of the seventeenth century, exclusively with reference to the division of Reason/Madness. Among the major texts discussed by Foucault with reference to the Western experience of the Same and the Other – Reason versus Madness – are William Shakespeare’s King Lear and Cervantes’s Don Quixote (Cf. Foucault, The Order of Things, 48–49. Cf. also Michel Foucault, Madness and Civilization: A History of Insanity in the Age of Reason, trans. Richard Howard (Librairie Plon, 1961; London: Tavistock, 1967), 28–32). By identifying Madness as the only figure of the Other in sixteenth and early seventeenth-century culture, Foucault totally sidelines alternative figures of alterity available in William Shakespeare’s plays. In Shakespearean drama, such figures of the Other are exemplified by Othello, the black Other, in Shakespeare’s Othello; Cleopatra, the Oriental Other, in Anthony and Cleopatra; and Caliban, the colonial Other, in The Tempest. As figures of ethnographic and cultural difference, the exotic Other, the Oriental Other, and the colonial Other convey the presence of alternative figures of alterity in contemporary Western culture that have nothing to do with “Madness.” The absence of such alternative figures of alterity from Foucault’s account paradoxically counterpoints their compelling presence in contemporary drama and travel narratives (For an interesting critical discussion of the ethnographic Other and exotic in sixteenth and seventeenth-century Western culture, see Peter Mason (1990). For an illuminating study of the exotic in Shakespearean drama, see John Gillies (1994).) This is yet another major blind spot in Foucault’s archaeological documentation of the Other in sixteenth-century Western culture. It is as if the Western experience of the Other in sixteenth and seventeenth-century Western culture was either limited to the experience of Madness or could be read and understood only from the vantage point of the Western experience of Reason/ Madness. The absence of an archaeological account on the ethnographic Other makes the ethnographic Other and the colonial Other unreadable from the perspective of Foucault’s The Order of Things.

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The Limits of Mudimbe’s Archaeological Reading of Africa’s Difference Considered from a broader analytical perspective, the absence of an archaeological account on the ethnographic Other in The Order of Things leaves ethnographic difference open to archaeological reading and interpretation beyond Foucault. Given Foucault’s failure to document the ethnographic Other and its alternative histories, any archaeological reading of the ethnographic, cultural, or colonial Other must be situated at the limits of Foucault’s The Order of Things. Edward Said’s archaeology of the “Orientalized” Orient can be traced as a major post-Foucauldian archaeological documentation of the Islamic Orient as the cultural and colonial Other. Mudimbe’s archaeology of the Western cultural assimilation of African difference in colonial and postcolonial cultural history can also be situated at the limits of Foucault’s archaeology of the Same and the Other (Peter Mason’s Deconstructing America: Representations of the Other (1990) can be traced as another instance). Both Said’s Orientalism (1978) and Mudimbe’s The Invention of Africa (1988) are post-Foucauldian partly because both can be taken as a supplement to Foucault’s The Order of Things. Correlatively, both texts document ethnographic and cultural difference beyond Foucault’s archaeological documentation of the Same and the Other in Western cultural history. For Mudimbe, the cultural perception of African difference in sixteenth-century European art conveys a cultural experience and assimilation of African difference that emphasizes “human sameness.” Such cultural inscription of African difference in sixteenth-century European culture is seen as expressing the epistemic order of “Similitude” suggested by Foucault’s The Order of Things. Mudimbe’s archaeological reading of African difference in sixteenth-century art sees the latter as a thematic configuration of the sixteenth-century episteme suggested by Foucault. Mudimbe’s reading of African difference in sixteenth-century European art raises two sets of problems. On the one hand, it cannot be evidenced or supported by Foucault’s archaeology of the Other in The Order of Things. On the other hand, Mudimbe’s archaeological reading of African difference actually projects “Similitude” on the European perception of African difference in sixteenth and seventeenth-century culture. For example, Burgkmair’s Exotic Tribe is seen as embodying and projecting the “human sameness” of African man to European man. As a matter of fact, Mudimbe’s reading of African difference as “human sameness” suggests – beyond Foucault’s account of the sixteenth-century episteme – that Western man experienced African man in terms of human similarities and analogies. Foucault’s characterization of the sixteenth-century episteme underlines the absence of human subjectivity as the basis of representation and knowledge in sixteenth-century culture. His archaeological descriptions of this episteme also underline the absence of the human subject (“Man”) as a sovereign object and subject of knowledge. For example, according to Foucault: In Classical thought, the personage for whom the representation exists, and who represents himself within it, recognizing himself therein as an image of reflection, he who ties together all the interlacing threads of the ‘representation in the form of a picture or table’- he is never

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to be found in that table himself. Before the end of the eighteenth century, man did not exist – any more than the potency of life, the fecundity of labour, or the historical density of language. (Foucault, The Order of Things, 308)

Foucault’s archaeological descriptions of the sixteenth-century episteme emphatically draw attention to the power of discourse and representation as the only existing bases of knowledge in contemporary European culture (Ibid., Cf. 311). Mudimbe’s reading of the Western assimilation of African difference as “human” sameness can neither be verified, explained, nor supported with reference to Foucault’s account on the sixteenth-century episteme. As an archaeological reading and analysis of Western man and African man, it overrides Foucault’s archaeological documentation of sixteenth-century Western culture. Considered from another analytical perspective, if the blind spots of Foucault’s archaeology of the Other are taken into account, to what extent is African difference accessible to an archaeological reading? And to what extent is Mudimbe’s archaeological reading of Africa’s difference adequate to actual history? Mudimbe’s reading and recuperation of Africa’s difference in sixteenth-century European culture is based partly on anthropological accounts on Africa, and partly on Foucault’s archaeological methodology. It is important to interrogate Mudimbe’s archaeological reading of African difference from an anthropological perspective as well. The question arising here is: Can such claimed experience of “human sameness” conveyed by sixteenth-century cultural perceptions of African difference be accounted for in anthropological terms? And what are its implications for Foucault’s archaeology of the sixteenth-century episteme? Since Burgkmair’s painting is entitled Exotic Tribe, it is useful to explore its representation of the African exotic from the vantage point of the anthropological history of exoticism/the exotic. As documented in critical anthropology, a major feature of Western consciousness of the exotic, in sixteenth-century Western culture, is the fact that it involved an experience of the Self/Other that is marked by “Desire for the exotic.” As it is understood in critical anthropology, “Desire for the exotic” is irreducible to Hegel’s Master/Slave Dialectic. For example, rather than being based on conflict, or a will to dominating the Other, the Western experience of the exotic in sixteenth-century culture was actually marked by consciousness of exotic alterity and a quest for the exotic (Cf. Affergan, Exotisme et Altérité, 15–16, and see 41–43). Apart from this, “Desire for the exotic” radically counterpoints Foucault’s projection of the sixteenth-century episteme as hermetically sealed by “Similitude,” as closed to difference (Ibid, Cf. 55). Considered from the perspective of the anthropological history of the exotic suggested by Affergan (1987), the Western experience of exotic alterity in sixteenth-century Western culture is one in which such alterity was documented in a free-floating language. Rather than reflecting a binary correspondence between representations of the exotic and exotic alterity, contemporary representations of the exotic suggest that exotic alterity was ultimately beyond adequate linguistic representation (Ibid., Cf. 76–77 and 110–111. Foucault’s (1970) episteme of “Similitude” is projected as hermetically closed to difference. Foucault even suggests – without documentary evidence, however – that all forms of alterity were translated into

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similarities in sixteenth-century culture. It is important to point out that the anthropological documentation of the exotic in sixteenth-century culture suggested by Affergan (1987) radically counterpoints Foucault’s claim on the sixteenth-century episteme as dominated by “Similitude”). Representations of African difference in sixteenth-century art can surely be read as expressions of “Desire for the exotic.” They can be interpreted as expressing Western cultural interest in the exotic. Such a reading can definitely be supported by anthropological evidence on the Western experience of the exotic in sixteenth-century culture. Yet such a reading clashes with Foucault’s projection of the sixteenth-century episteme as being closed to difference, as limited to “Similitude.” In other words, if the exotic could not be represented in a binary fashion in sixteenth-century culture, Mudimbe’s reading of Exotic Tribe as modelled on Italian men can rather be taken as evidence against Foucault. It cannot be taken as an illustration of Foucault’s episteme of “Similitude.” In other words, to read the African exotic in sixteenth-century art as positively translating “Desire for the exotic” is to read African difference in contemporary art against the grain of Foucault (1970), rather than as an illustration of Foucault’s sixteenth-century episteme. In all cases, Mudimbe’s archaeological reading of African difference in sixteenth-century European culture cannot be explained or supported with reference to Foucault’s archaeology of the Same and the Other. In my estimation, the incompleteness and ambiguity of Foucault’s characterization of the cultural assimilation of the Other in sixteenth-century culture definitely makes representations of African difference open to archaeological reading beyond Foucault (1966; 1970). For example, the inscription of African difference as “human sameness” can be read as a neutralization of ethnographic difference. This is Mudimbe’s reading, and it is methodologically sound and inspiring. Yet it is ambiguous, and it is not supported by anthropological evidence. In my estimation, if “Desire for the exotic” in sixteenth-century culture is taken into account, to see African difference as modelled on European models would suggest a recognition and disavowal of African difference, rather than its celebration as such. Such archaeological reading of Burgkmair’s painting counterpoints Mudimbe’s, which sees sixteenth-century art as translating and confirming the “human sameness” of Africans to Europeans. Even if one concedes that African difference is portrayed as “human sameness,” such “human sameness” of Africans to their European counterparts remains ultimately open to interpretation. It is also marked by ambiguity. For example: Why is African difference in Exotic Tribe minimized, instead of being celebrated as such? Does such portrayal of African difference translate its recognition or its disavowal? Again, given such ambiguity underlying African difference in Exotic Tribe, for instance, how can African difference in sixteenth-century European art be recuperated anthropologically or historically?

Mudimbe’s Recuperation of Africa’s Identity and Difference Mudimbe’s archaeological reading of the cultural experience and assimilation of African difference in sixteenth-century art is brilliant, despite its discontinuities with Foucault’s (1966; 1970) documentation of the sixteenth-century episteme. Yet such

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archaeological reading of African difference is marked by the blind spots of Foucault’s archaeology of the Other. Given this, the authority of Mudimbe’s archaeology of African difference cannot be predicated on Foucault’s The Order of Things. In my estimation, the authority of Mudimbe’s archaeological reading of the European perception of African difference in sixteenth-century culture depends, in the final analysis, on the authority of Maurice Godelier’s and Leo Frobenius’s anthropological accounts on Africa. Both Frobenius and Godelier establish analogies between African and European systems of knowledge. Mudimbe’s reading of African difference in sixteenth-century European culture draws on and endorses Godelier’s and Frobenius’s anthropological accounts on sixteenth-century African culture. He also situates their anthropological views and representations of Africa beyond Eurocentric models of anthropology. For example, Godelier does not distinguish between primitive African systems of thought and the “undomesticated thinking” of classical European systems of thought. He sees similarities, not differences, underlying sixteenth-century African and European systems of thought, from an ethnographic point of view. For Mudimbe, Godelier projects a correct image of Africa’s identity and difference. His documentation of ethnographic analogies between African and European systems is also interpreted by Mudimbe as a configuration of Foucault’s sixteenth-century episteme (Cf. Mudimbe, The Invention of Africa, 30. Mudimbe’s reappraisal of Godelier underlines his move beyond all anthropological conceptions of the “primitive mind,” including Lévi-Strauss’s concept of the “Savage Mind”). Such reappraisal of Godelier’s anthropological documentation of Africa underlines its adequacy to actual history. But to what extent can Leo Frobenius and Maurice Godelier be absolved from epistemic violence? And is their documentation of Africa adequate to real and actual history? Mudimbe’s reappraisal of Frobenius and Godelier emphatically draws attention to the relevance of their accounts on Africa to a post-Afrocentric African Gnosis. Given this, Mudimbe already absolves their anthropological accounts from the charge of Othering Africa and, thereby, from epistemic violence. Since Mudimbe’s archaeological reading of Africa’s difference in sixteenth-century culture recuperates Africa’s difference as documented by Godelier and Frobenius, this throws into question Mudimbe’s anthropological approach to Africa’s difference. Considered from an anthropological perspective, Mudimbe’s position also raises a serious epistemological question, and it is as follows. For Mudimbe, the similarities established by Godelier, for instance, are adequate to history. The anthropological position represented by Christopher Miller (1986) on Frobenius conveys a different view on Frobenius when he states, for example: My point is of course not that Frobenius was inaccurate in his physical description of African civilization, rather that his writing rewards Africa for conforming to a European image of civilization, for acting as a mirror in which a European can contemplate a European idea of beauty (Christopher Miller, “Theories of Africans: the Question of Literary Anthropology.” Critical Inquiry, Vol. 13, No. 1. (1986), 129).

To the extent that Mudimbe’s recuperation of African difference is predicated on Godelier and Frobenius, this surely raises an epistemological impasse. How do we read Africa’s identity and difference in cultural history? If sixteenth-century Africans

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and African culture are similar to European culture and European man, in the ways suggested by such anthropologists and by Mudimbe, then where is Africa’s difference? And on what grounds can Africa’s difference be defined? Even if Foucault’s (1966; 1970) archaeology of the Other is inadequate in the ways I have outlined in this chapter, it still enables a reading of alterity in cultural history beyond historicist and Eurocentric closures. Mudimbe’s archaeological approach to Africa’s difference moves beyond the epistemological impasse represented by well-known Eurocentric models of anthropology and Afrocentric thought. Mudimbe also admits that all African forms of knowledge are based on anthropology (See Mudimbe, The Invention of Africa, xi). Yet Mudimbe rejects Afrocentric philosophies of difference and their models. For example, for Mudimbe, Negritude falls short of providing an appropriate model of African difference for two sets of reasons. On the one hand, despite its challenge of colonialism, its project was marked by ideological and political limitations (Ibid., Cf. 83–85. Mudimbe shares the views of Jean-Paul Sartre and Frantz Fanon on the limitations of Negritude). On the other hand, Mudimbe shares René Depestre’s view that “The original sin of negritude – and the adventures that destroyed its initial project – come from the spirit that made it possible: anthropology” (Ibid, 87. This is Depestre quoted). For Christopher Miller (1986), all postcolonial African thought is constrained by the double binds of choosing between “equality” and “identity.” Afrocentric thought believed in an “authentic” African identity. Negritude constituted Africa as a paradigm of difference. Negritude thought and literature depend on Leo Frobenius’s anthropological writings. For example, Léopold Sedar Senghor and Aimé Césaire acknowledge the legacy of Frobenius as the basis of Afrocentric cultural identity. Paradoxically, as an ideology of alterity, Negritude thought is marked by alienation (Cf. Christopher Miller, “Theories of Africans: the Question of Literary Anthropology.” 128). Some postcolonial African thinkers see Senghor’s reliance on Frobenius as foreclosing Africa’s difference. By contrast, post-Afrocentric thought rejects Afrocentric models of ethnic difference; it opts for “equality” to the Western Other. It is interesting that Miller emphatically sees post-Afrocentric thought as well as running the risk of “losing” Africa’s identity and difference, as assimilating Africa into Western categories (Ibid., Cf. 131 and 136–138). This raises the crucial question of whether Mudimbe’s archaeological reading and recovery of Africa’s difference moves beyond the epistemological impasse of post-Afrocentric thought or whether it should be held responsible for “losing” Africa’s identity and difference. In conclusion, Mudimbe’s archaeological approach to Africa’s difference definitely avoids the double binds of Eurocentrism and Afrocentrism. His archaeological reading and recuperation of Africa’s difference in sixteenth-century European culture moves beyond Afrocentric readings of identity and difference. It also reads and redefines Africa’s difference beyond Eurocentric models of anthropology. Mudimbe’s archaeological reading of Africa’s difference, in sixteenth and seventeenth-century European art, is consistent with Foucault’s archaeological methodology. Yet it is also constrained by the inherent limitations of Foucault’s archaeological documentation of the Same and Other in sixteenth-century Western culture. As I have argued, Foucault’s archaeological documentation of the Other in The

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Order of Things is highly inadequate. Despite this, Mudimbe’s archaeology of African difference should be judged in its own terms, rather than with reference to Foucault’s The Order of Things. In my estimation, Mudimbe’s The Invention of Africa (1988) represents a major postcolonial rewriting of ethnographic and cultural difference besides Edward Said’s Orientalism (1978). As an archaeological reading and analysis of African difference in cultural history, it can be credited with moving beyond Eurocentric and Afrocentric readings of Africa’s difference in cultural history and their inherent limitations.

References Affergan, Francis. 1987. Exotisme et Altérité: Essai sur Les Fondements d’Une Critique de L’Anthropologie. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. Asad, Talal. 1973. Anthropology and the Colonial Encounter. New York: The Humanities Press. Bhabha, Homi K. 1994. The Location of Culture. New York/London: Routledge 31–243. Foucault, Michel. 1967. Madness and Civilization (trans. Richard Howard). London: Tavistock. Foucault, Michel. 1966. Les Mots et Les Choses. Paris: Gallimard. English edition. Foucault, Michel. 1970. The Order of Things (trans. Tavistock). London: Tavistock. Foucault, Michel. 1969. L’Archéologie du Savoir. Paris: Gallimard. English edition: Foucault, Michel. 1974. The Archaeology of Knowledge (trans. A. Sheridan Smith). London: Tavistock. Foucault, Michel. 1994. Les Réponses du Philosophe. Entretien avec C. Bojunga et R. Lobo, Trad. P. W. Prado. In Daniel Defert et Françeois Ewald (Eds.), Dits et Ecrits Par Michel Foucault – 1954–1988, Tome II, 1673–1685. Paris: Gallimard. Gillies, John. 1994. Shakespeare and the Geography of Difference. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mason, Peter. 1990. Deconstructing America: Representations of the Other. New York/London: Routledge. Miller, Christopher. 1986. Theories of Africans: the Question of Literary Anthropology. Critical Inquiry 13 (1): 120–139. Mudimbe, V.Y. 1988. The Invention of Africa: Gnosis, Philosophy, and the Order of Knowledge. Indianapolis: Indiana University Press. Said, Edward. 1978. Orientalism. New York/London: RKP. Said, Edward. 1986. Foucault and the Imagination of Power. In Foucault: A Critical Reader, ed. David Couzins Hoy, 149–155. Oxford: Blackwell. Spivak, Gayatri Chakravorty. 1993. Can the Subaltern Speak ? In Colonial Discourse and Postcolonial Theory, ed. Patrick Williams and Laura Chrisman, 66–111. New York/London: Harvester Wheatsheaf. Spivak, Gayatri Chakravorty. 1999. A Critique of Postcolonial Reason: Toward a History of the Vanishing Present. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Todorov, Tzvetan. 1982. La Conquête de l’Amérique: La Question de l’Autre. Paris: le Seuil. Young, Robert. 1990. White Mythologies: Writing History and the West. New York/London: Routledge.

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Toward a Postcolonial Universal Ontology Notes on the Thought of Achille Mbembe Josias Tembo and Schalk Gerber

Contents Introduction: Knowing the Author . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ontology and Difference . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Pre-colonial Conception of Alterity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Colonial African Conception of Alterity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Race and Difference . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Logic of Race . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Creation of Blackness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Black Thought and Difference . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Toward a Postcolonial Universal Ontology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Postcolonial . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A Universal Responsibility . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

The critique of Western metaphysics outlines how the African other has been depicted as not fully human in relation to the western subject’s identity. Hence, on an ontological level, the other or difference has been denied or excluded, which accounts for the violence of the colonial logic of conceptualizing African alterity or difference. The challenge of thinking the postcolonial situation in the African context has mostly been how to think liberating difference and alterity outside the violent colonial paradigm constituted by the creation of race as Blackness, the Black man, and the fiction of Africa. Hence, the problem may be formulated J. Tembo (*) Department of Philosophy, University of Pretoria, Pretoria, South Africa Radboud University, Centre for Contemporary European Philosophy, Nijmegen, The Netherlands e-mail: [email protected] S. Gerber Stellenbosch University, Department of Philosophy, Stellenbosch, South Africa e-mail: [email protected]; [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_8

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accordingly in the following question: How may a sense of identity be thought that does not deny the existence of the other or difference as fully human? Restated: How may postcolonial African thought avoid constituting the same logic of race as it aims to overcome the colonial logic of alterity? Accordingly, this chapter aims to critically engage with the thought of Achille Mbembe and his attempts to address the question. Even though Mbembe attends to the question of essentialism in African imaginations of otherness in On the Postcolony, he largely remains silent in this work on the ethical question of violent contemporary ways of conceptualizing otherness in African thoughts and sociopolitical practices. Therefore, while taking Mbembe’s social ontology that takes existence of difference and how difference constitutes identity (but largely remaining violent) as a point of departure, this chapter will, subsequently, argue that in the Critique of Black Reason, one finds a step toward a postcolonial nonviolent notion of alterity based on the recognition of the in-common existence within one world we share, firstly, by outlining Mbembe’s formulation of a non-essentialist African identity that, in turn, opens the way for what we will call here a postcolonial ontology and, secondly, to outline how this ontology reimagines the relation of the universal and particular making it a postcolonial universal ontology. Keywords

Achille Mbembe · Race · Ontology · Postcolonial · Otherness · Alterity · Blackness · Reparation

Introduction: Knowing the Author Joseph-Achille Mbembe is a contemporary Cameroonian-born historian, postcolonial political theorist, philosopher, and public intellectual. His work occupies a theoretical framework which borders existential phenomenology, poststructuralism, and psychoanalysis. Philosophically, Mbembe has been influenced by the works of thinkers such as Franz Fanon, Aime Cesaire, Michel Foucault, Gilles Deleuze, Friedrich Hegel, Jean Luc-Nancy, and Jean Jacque Lacan. The focus of his work has been on Africa and its relation to the West and the rest of the world. Most of his philosophical work focuses on conceptualizing the subject of African descent in the form of the African slavery in the United States (Necropolitics 2003, Critique of Black Reason 2017), the African colonial subject (African Modes of Self-Writing 2002), and the postcolonial African subject in relation to state power (On the Postcolony 2001). His most recent works focus on how the logic that constituted the African slave and colonial subject has permeated contemporary neoliberal global politics and economics (Critique of Black Reason 2017, Politics of the Enmity 2016). Within the general framework of African philosophy, Mbembe’s work can be aligned with the works of thinkers such as Valentine Mudimbe (see Mudimbe (1988)) and Anthony K. Appiah (1992). Generally, anti-colonial and postcolonial (until the late 1990s), African philosophy has been mainly preoccupied with the question of African identity (for a better contextualization of the notion of identity in

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African philosophy during anti-colonial and postcolonial contexts, see Dirlik (2002) and Masolo (1997).). Drawing from Western racist and essentialist conception of human subjectivity and from the works of thinkers such as Wilmot Blyden and Alexander Crummell, African identity/Pan-Africanism has been mostly conceptualized in an essentialist fashion in opposition to Western identity. This often resulted in maintaining individual human subjectivities within racial boundaries with the idea that there is essentially an African identity in which all peoples of African descent share, and it is the springboard of their sociopolitical and cultural destiny. The same applied to the people of European origin. The works of Franz Fanon, Valentine Mudimbe, and Anthony Appiah contest this idea of an essential African identity which preexists the colonial encounter and which defines the destiny of the peoples of African descent for a more historically, sociopolitically, and culturally defined view of human subjectivity. Mbembe’s main preoccupation in his earlier works until the Critique of Black Reason occupies an ambivalent position which theoretically falls on the anti-essentialist position on African identity with emphasis given to individual capacities to style themselves within historically defined circumstances. While siding with the anti-essentialists such as Mudimbe and Appiah, Mbembe goes beyond showing that the discourse on African identity has been constructed by Western essentialist epistemologies which breed nativism and the metaphysics of difference (racial essentialism), to account for how African subjects are constituted by different changing and inertia forces which constitute African living conditions. Contesting autochthonous views of African subjects, Mbembe understands that the African subject emerges in the entanglement of the African-Western global context in which the sociopolitical and cultural forces on a local and global level constantly fashion each other. It is in Mbembe’s continuous analysis of the African subject in relation to the West that has made Mbembe’s philosophical work not only relevant to the African people and peoples of African descent in other parts of the world, but also to the so-called Western world. His constant and deep analysis of both African philosophical work and Western philosophical chapter has placed him among the important thinkers of our time at least in the Africa, America, and Europe. It is from his work on the African subject in relation to African and what he calls the world (Western world) that this work will construct his social ontology and further develop a postcolonial universal (The universal may be understood here in ontological terms as the in-common or co-belonging.) ontology with the focus on alterity. The chapter will mainly draw from Mbembe’s two main books, On the Postcolony and Critique of Black Reason, and suggests that the two works be read together, complementing each other in the task of rethinking alterity after colonialism and the logic of race in the African context(s) and in relation to the rest of the world. Accordingly, this chapter is divided into three sections. The first section “Ontology and Difference” will focus on ontology and difference within the precolonial and colonial periods. The second section “Race and Difference” will build on the discussion with an emphasis on the creation of race as a product of the metaphysics of modernity which underlined the colonial project and continuous within various postcolonial projects. The third section “Towards a Postcolonial Universal Ontology,” in turn, will focus on Mbembe’s attempts to address the violent

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problematic logic of race and alterity in his formulation of a postcolonial ontology and his subsequent proclamation of the universal task of responsibility and reparation in order to imagine a nonviolent postcolonial universal ontology.

Ontology and Difference What makes Mbembe’s work important for the question of alterity is Mbembe’s attempt to define what constitutes African subjects. By describing who African subjects are, Mbembe makes an ontological claim. And by explaining what and how African subjects are constituted, Mbembe gives us the social fabric from which African subjects are fashioned. Our work in this chapter therefore is drawn from Mbembe’s work on the nature of the presence (ontology) of African sociopolitical and cultural fabric and how he imagines otherness or alterity as a constitutive experience and idea in this social ontology. We name it postcolonial precisely because Mbembe’s construction or theorization of an African subject is within postcolonial social realities. The aim is to identify one general feature that makes the postcolonial subject formation possible, which is alterity. How does Mbembe articulate alterity or otherness, and what does it promise the postcolonial present and the postcolonial future (going beyond the violence of modern European notion of alterity)? By postcolonial, we wish to mean two things: first the present which comes after the end of formal colonization and, second, the going beyond or freeing ourselves from the colonial violence and the ontology of alterity which informs it. This distinction will later in the chapter take the difference between postcolonial ontology and postcolonial universal ontology. So in what follows in the section “Ontology and Difference,” we will construct and extrapolate three different historical moments and the kinds of ontologies of otherness that permit the kind of sociopolitical intercourse that transpired during these moments in the history of Africa.

Pre-colonial Conception of Alterity Mbembe does not explicitly articulate the notion of precolonial alterity. This section theorizes a precolonial conception of alterity from Mbembe’s ideas of how some precolonial African societies conceptualized and lived alterity in their sociopolitical and cultural contexts, informed by a particular conception of ontology. We think that this section on precolonial ideas of alterity is important for our purpose because the postcolonial in Mbembe’s view is the presence and the absence of the precolonial in its entanglement with multiple ages and times. It is also important to note that this idea of alterity is only a generalization which may not account for other societies of precolonial Africa. In Mbembe’s views, the metaphysics that informs precolonial African societies, for instance, those of Cameroon, is a one which perceives reality as a dynamic unity with multiple faces or manifestations. Mbembe articulates the precolonial ontology of alterity implicitly in his chapter “The Thing and Its Double” (2001: 42–73) in On

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the Postcolony. In trying to show how power is articulated and contested in postcolonial Cameroon and other parts of Africa, Mbembe uses the discourse of representation through the category of the image to show at least two things. First, Mbembe shows how the discourse of the image persists (though transformed) from the precolonial era to the postcolonial as a medium of thought and communication. Second, he shows how the category of the image is used in postcolonial Africa to talk to power, talk with power, and without directly challenging power transforms power (state power). It is in explaining the role of the image in the postcolonial and how it has been sourced from the precolonial that Mbembe points us to what constituted the conception of alterity in some precolonial African societies. Mbembe believes that the category of the image has been one of the main cultural characters of many African societies. What sustained some oral traditions in Africa was the category of the image which was used in the general process of communication such as thinking and making general political and cultural statements through masks, carvings, and the spoken word. In these cases, language was rather performed and not written (Mbembe 2001: 144). Consequently, “it was from language acts that a critical tradition was constituted – and was transmitted over time and space, recited in public and pondered in private” (Ibid.). This means that some African modes of critical sociopolitical engagement and critique have been utilizing images as a mode of public and private representation. As a result, the underlying rules of learning and knowledge production, reproduction, and transmission were carried out mostly through the category of the image. The center stage the image occupied should not be misunderstood as a magical attitude toward the word but rather to articulate knowledge in public meant to “make everything speak- that is, in constantly transforming reality into a sign and, on the other hand, filling with reality things empty and hollow in appearance” (Mbembe 2001: 144). In this world where the epistemological field was entangled with the social, the language of the category of the image interplayed between the visible and invisible: In these conditions, the great epistemological – and therefore social – break was not between what was seen and what was read, but between what was seen (the visible) and what was not seen (the occult), between what was heard, spoken, and memorized and what was concealed (the secret). (2001: 144)

On the entanglement of ontology and epistemology, Mbembe here echoes Ramose (2005: 35) that “African ontology and epistemology must be understood as two aspects of the one and same reality.” In the human condition where not everything is accessible to the senses, and living in communities were magic and witchcraft played an important role in sociopolitical and cultural life, the category of the image best captured realms of the physical and the spiritual, the visible and the invisible (occult) at the same time. The function of a sociopolitical analyst and epistemologist therefore was to decipher what the image revealed by concealing the occult and what was not said by what was said by the image. But this language of the image pointed even to something deeper; it pointed to a particular ontology which constituted this life-world.

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For Mbembe, the dichotomy of the visible and invisible was a complex and a dynamic relation. That is why he states that to take this double in terms of presence as "'being there' (real presence) and the latter of a 'being elsewhere' or a 'nonbeing' (irremediable absence) – or, worse, of the order of unreality – would be to misunderstand” the ontological structure of these societies (2001: 144). The visible and the occult or the reverse of this world did not relate or commute with each other in an interplay of the categorical opposites such as the real vs. the copy or presence vs. absence, rather “they were marked by relations of similarity” which marked to unite and distinguish them through the indigenous notion of simultaneous multiplicities (2001: 144–5). The invisible was simultaneously the other side of the visible and was in the visible, and vice versa. On this understanding, the invisible aspects of the world were part and parcel of the visible and the visible an integral side of the invisible world. The notion of simultaneous multiplicities captures a constantly changing and stable world through its interchange and exchange within a single multiplicity of the visible and invisible, physical and spiritual, public and occult, and even good and evil. It is within this context of the changing and stable orientation to the world that the African indigenous “conceptions of figurative representation, appearances, and similarity, even of metamorphosis, rested” (2001: 145). The image therefore had the “capacity to provide a basis for, and to state the inseparability of, the being and the nonbeing of persons and things – that is, the radicality of their life and the violence of their death and their annihilation” (2001: 145). While Mbembe’s main interest was in the category of the image, what is of interest to us is the ontology which the category of the image represented or captured. This ontology of simultaneous multiplicities or the “being” and “nonbeing” of persons and of things captures the notion of alterity in Mbembe’s idea of the precolonial African social ontology. Alterity in this ontology was another aspect of the same. To be different did not mean the absence of the other in the same or the “nonbeing” of the other in the same or being “elsewhere” than in the same: irremediable absence. To the contrary, the other was an intrinsic aspect of the same, and they both constitute each other, but not in opposition. The being and the nonbeing of the person or a thing, the world of the living and the world of the spirits, and the visible and the invisible (occult) were the different aspects of the same reality, and the gap that separates them, if not brought together by necessity, can be crossed by an ontology of violence and excess, as Mbembe writes: By summoning up the world of shade in a context where there was no forced correspondence between what was seen, heard, and said – or between what was and what was not, what was apparent and what partook of the spectre and the phantom – one was appealing to a particular ontology of violence and the marvellous. One was bringing to life not simply “something other” but “another side of all things,” which, in its ceaseless dispersal, abolished – and thus more emphatically confirmed – the distinction between being and appearance, the world of the living and the world of spirits. (2001: 145)

For the real world to be fully represented, it needed a relation to the world of spirits and “the image could not but be the visible and constructed form of something that had always to conceal itself” (Mbembe 2001: 146). To capture the visible and

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the occult entailed not so much the capacity to mirror exactly the conformity between the image and its referent but rather the “capacity of the thing represented to mirror resemblances and, through the interplay of bewitchment and enchantment – and, if need be, extravagance and excess – to make the signs speak” (Mbembe 2001: 145). So, to produce images in this language life or having the capacity to represent reality fully in its double or simultaneous multiplicities meant having access to “magic and double sight, imagination, even fabrication, that consisted in clothing the signs with appearances of the thing for which they were the metaphor” (Mbembe 2001: 145). What we do with Mbembe’s striptease of alterity in his analysis of the place of the category of the image in some precolonial African societies is to show that these communities, first, understood difference as an intrinsic part of reality in persons, spirits, and things. Second, otherness is not necessarily oppositional or binary. Third, difference must not be denied because it is the constitutive nature of reality in its simultaneous multiplicities. Fourth, difference is to be accepted on the understanding that difference is part of the same, and the same is fully known and lived through difference. Lastly, with an ethical responsibility attached, there is always an exchange between different aspects of reality and when summoned upon without forced necessity, one traverses the ontology of violence and excess which has “disturbing powers” (2001: 146). In this case, precolonial social ontology had a conception of alterity as simultaneous multiplicities of the same reality. To be ontologically different is to be a different aspect of the same reality. Mbembe’s implicit conception of alterity focuses on the realms of the living and the spirits at a fundamental level, of the living and the living dead or living invisibly. He does not give us a clear conception of difference among human beings and its political consequence. We think that the reason why Mbembe falls short in this regard is that his aim for writing this precolonial social ontology in On the Postcolony was to capture the function or place of the category of the image in some precolonial African societies and how later the category of the image was adapted for political critique and power contestation in the postcolonial.

Colonial African Conception of Alterity In this section we will define the colonial conception of alterity which will later be expanded to discuss the logic of race and become a point of departure for a postcolonial universal ontology. What characterize the colonial context in Mbembe’s view is the phenomenon of violence or a state of deprivation. In explaining the phenomena of violence, Mbembe explains that the Western ontology of alterity constituted the colonial violence which legitimizes the need for a different mode of imagining African alterity and human alterity in general. Unlike in the analysis of the precolonial African imagination of the alterity, Mbembe gives a clear and directed articulation of the conception of alterity which focuses on human otherness or what he refers to as “the ‘I’ of others and of human beings perceived as foreign to us” (2001: 2). In the West, the idea of the “I” of

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another human who is foreign to them has proved to be impossible, philosophically and politically, to understand without denying the humanity of an “Other.” On the Western conception of the other, Mbembe comments that: We should first remind ourselves that, as a general rule, the experience of the Other, or the problem of the “I” of others and of human beings we perceive as foreign to us, has almost always posed virtually insurmountable difficulties to the Western philosophical and political tradition. [...] The theoretical and practical recognition of the body and flesh of “the stranger” as flesh and body just like mine, the idea of a common human nature, a humanity shared with others, long posed, and still poses, a problem for Western consciousness. (2001: 2)

The colonial context is a construction of Western European philosophical and political tradition. And what mainly has come to be known as Africa and African is the invention of European alterity. In modern Western philosophical and political tradition, to be different from Europe meant to be none or less human. This conception of human alterity was based on absolute alterity which conceives of difference as “nonbeing” or as “not there” or as pure absence. This explains why the discourse that has been coming from Western modernity has almost always presented what it constructs of Africa and other non-European peoples as a lack, an absence. On this point, Mbembe writes: Africa is never seen as possessing things and attributes properly part of “human nature.” Or, when it is, its things and attributes are generally of lesser value, little importance, and poor quality. It is this elementariness and primitiveness that makes Africa the world par excellence of all that is incomplete, mutilated, and unfinished, its history reduced to a series of setbacks of nature in its quest for humankind. (2001: 1)

Difference on this view is taken to mean absence of the same in the other. Therefore, if the European represents humanity, then the difference that constitutes the African is the absence of humanity. At the height of the colonial context, the West constructed African alterity as “the animal – to be exact. . . the beast” (2001: 1), that is, the absolute opposite of what is human. Difference as absence in this discourse is the absence of humanness in the African. The humanity of the African was denied, and what was constructed of Africa is the animal: the beast. This kind of othering emanates from the ontology of deprivation. It is the ontology of deprivation because by othering the African in this way, the West deprived the Africa of the humanity which is the African’s ontological constitution. The notion that separated the West from the rest of the world was race. It has been argued that human beings exist in races which are hierarchical with the West according itself the highest place which is supposed to be the paragon of humanity. The people of African descent are relegated to the bottom of the hierarchy as subhumans and sometimes not human at all, based on the ontology of absolute alterity. But this ontology constituted or still constitutes two kinds of violence. First, by forcing human subjects to fit into the constructed racial identities, it denies human individuals to flourish as individual beyond the defined characteristics of a particular

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so-called race. Second, by racial exclusivity, this ontology denies all human beings to realize what they have in common as human beings. The African that was constructed from the Western ontology of deprivation lacks reason, which is the sign of humanity par excellence in the eyes of the West; the African cannot reason because he is not human (Ramose 1998). African modes of life in Mbembe’s view were understood as facticity and arbitrariness (2001: 3). By facticity, Mbembe means Africans were perceived as “merely there” and their immediacy to Western consciousness constituted their truth. Since Africans were “there” like other animals, it is argued, there was no need to justify their existence and human alterity, beyond the fact that they are “there.” Arbitrariness is defined closely to facticity: By arbitrariness is meant that, in contrast to reason in the West, myth and fable are seen as what, in such societies, denote order and time. Since myth and fable are seen as expressing the very power of the originaire, nothing in these societies requires, as noted above, justification, and there is little place for open argument; it is enough to invoke the time of origins. Caught in a relation of pure immediacy to the world and to themselves, such societies are incapable of uttering the universal. (2001: 4)

The politics that flow from this ontology and alterity of deprivation has been violent, and its legacies are still being experienced today mostly by the victims of such an ontology and the consequent conception of alterity. The image of the African as the other to the West has not fundamentally changed even after the end of formal colonialism, as Mbembe states: But it is in relation to Africa that the notion of “absolute otherness” has been taken farthest. It is now widely acknowledged that Africa as an idea, a concept, has historically served, and continues to serve, as a polemical argument for the West’s desperate desire to assert its difference from the rest of the world. In several respects, Africa still constitutes one of the metaphors through which the West represents the origin of its own norms, develops a selfimage, and integrates this image into the set of signifiers asserting what it supposes to be its identity. (2001: 2)

Despite the West’s commitment to this absolute otherness of violence, the struggle for liberation from colonialism and Western racism ushered in the age of postcoloniality. To be sure, anti-colonial and some postcolonial imagination of alterity still operated within the Western ontology of alterity with an attempt to avoid certain kinds of violence such as racial hierarchy, but nonetheless insisting on racial differences or what Mbembe calls the metaphysics of difference or nativism. In the postcolonial, even though social realities still mirror some colonial logics, Mbembe see postcolonial African experience as constituting a different social ontology that is constantly changing and permitting different forms of otherness. Before outlining Mbembe’s attempt at a postcolonial ontology and later postcolonial universal ontology, the next section turns to focus the discussion of alterity more specifically in terms of race, which did not only constitute difference in terms of the colony but also slavery and apartheid, as dissected by Mbembe in Critique of Black Reason.

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Race and Difference Where in On the Postcolony Mbembe focuses on the question of alterity in terms of ontology in relation to colonization, the focus shifts in Critique of Black Reason to the relationship of the universal and the particular (Mbembe briefly discussed this problem of the universal and particular in his earlier work African Modes of SelfWriting (2002a) before giving it new impetus and wider context in the Critique of Black Reason (2017).), of Africa and the rest of the world, and of the Black man and humanity to be considered in this section. The discussion of difference concerns here, firstly, the creation of race in terms of the Black man, Blackness, and Africa (The translation of Black man as used in the English translation of the text comes from le Nègre referring also to Black people in general. See the translator’s explanation of this choice of translation and the gender problematic it entails (Mbembe 2017: xiv)). The creation and construction of race in the form of absolute difference in relation to Africa may historically be understood along three periods, namely, slavery, colonialization, and apartheid. More importantly, when speaking of the discourse on Blackness, Mbembe (2017: 28) argues that one has to distinguish between the two discourses or two sides of Black reason. One, constituted by the West, is an imaginary constructed discourse on race that made it possible to represent non-Europeans as ontologically inferior, or lesser beings, less than human. To understand this rationale, a brief outline of the constitution of the metaphysics of modernity, which builds on the colonial conception of ontology discussed above, is required that will be discussed under “The Logic of Race.” The second discourse concerns Africa or the Black man’s attempts at self-determination through reclaiming the meaning of the racial category, which will be discussed under “Black Thought and Difference.” Hence, it is important to understand the logic that created race, in order to make sense of how the question of difference has played itself out within African thought in its attempts at self-determination. But, these attempts at self-determination in the name of Blackness do not escape criticism. For Mbembe, although one has to understand these paths of thought within their historic context and give credit to their attempts at self-determination, movements like Negritude and Pan-Africanism tend to reinforce the logic of race and the categories of difference, which they seek to overcome. Hence, these attempts fall back into the metaphysics of difference with its imaginary characteristics that create myths concerning the Black man. Mbembe’s own standpoint concerns rethinking what we introduced earlier as a postcolonial universal ontology that aims to avoid the logic of race by picking up where thinkers like Fanon and Cesaire left off. It is this proclamation of a universalist project that Mbembe puts forward in Critique of Black Reason with the goal to take forward African thinking of difference that we consider in the section “Towards a Postcolonial Universal Ontology.”

The Logic of Race To understand how race was and still is being constructed, we might ask: what constitutes the logic of race? As Mbembe (2017: 25) outlines, the logic of race is a

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product of the metaphysics of Western modernity and is the way in which the socalled West classified and divided the world with Europe at its center. The logic functions by placing a substantialized figure, in the instance of race-Whiteness, as its highest and grounding principle, according to which the world is to be structured. Corresponding to this logic, everything is related back to the subject, to the same, to be classified and placed in a hierarchy. The problem, however, arises when the subject of sameness and Whiteness is confronted with difference. Instead of an encounter with the other, the logic of race is imposed by one on another. There is no reciprocal recognition and co-creation of what race might have been, race ends up being fictional, a phantasmic myth created around both the self and the other from the standpoint of the White man. On the one side, the myth of the other takes on a monstrous form, a threat that leads to what Mbembe calls Altruicide: “the constitution of the Other not as similar to oneself but as a menacing object from which one must be protected or escape, or which must simply be destroyed if it cannot be subdued” (ibid., 10) (On this point also see also Kearney (2003) on the various ways in which the West have created myths around the stranger or other, Gerber and Van der Merwe (2017) on a critique of Western metaphysics in terms of alterity, and Mudimbe’s The Idea of Africa (1994) on various historical conceptions of what Africa meant.). On the other hand, the myth of the self takes on a godlike form, with myth of the superior race as its result: “In its avid need for myths through which to justify its power, the Western world considered itself the center of the earth and the birthplace of reason, universal life, and the truth of humanity. The most ‘civilized’ region of the world, the West alone had invented the ‘rights of the people’” (ibid., 11). Historically, the creation of race coincides with Europe’s project of the expansion of the West, where the West was confronted with non-Western others. Instead of constituting the other with reference to sameness, absolute difference was used in order to make a distinction between human beings, with non-Europeans classified as less than human. Ontologically the other did not have the same value as those that belong to the category of Whiteness. In order to categorize the races, the possession of rational thought was utilized to make this distinction, and beings seen as lacking rational thought and consciousness concerning their own history and future were treated as an object, a thing that is ontologically inferior. In other words, the creation of race is the creation of essentialized identities reduced to a handful of characteristics that are fixed and form the essence of a person’s existence. The creation of these essentialized identities did not take place in a reciprocal fashion, but in a oneway direction with Whiteness being the reference point. Again, one voice dictated reality for the other: To capture the precise contours of these dangers and possibilities, we need first to remember that, throughout its history, European thought has tended to conceive of identity less in terms of mutual belonging (cobelonging) to a common world than in terms of a relation between similar beings – of being itself emerging and manifesting itself in its own state, or its own mirror. But it is also crucial for us to understand that as the direct consequence of the logic of self-fictionalization and self- contemplation, indeed of closure, Blackness and race have played multiple roles in the imaginaries of European societies. (ibid., 2)

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One might also understand the logic of race according to the relation of the universal to the particular. Colonization might be understood as a pseudo-universalization imposed on the particular or in Mbembe’s words: “We should add that Whiteness in turn was, in many ways, a fantasy produced by the European imagination, one that the West has worked hard to naturalize and universalize” (ibid., 43). Apartheid may be understood as the overemphasis on the particular with the misrecognition of the universal in its extreme form. This is the double violence we earlier pointed out that emanate from the ontology of absolute alterity.

The Creation of Blackness When it comes to the question of difference, translated into the construction of race, of the self as the White man and the category of Whiteness, the creation of the Black man and Blackness as category goes hand in hand. Hence, according to the logic of race, the race named by the noun Black or Blackness is ontologically less than human, less than that of the category of Whiteness. Or as formulated by Mbembe (2017: 46): It designated a particular kind of human: those who, because of their physical appearance, their habits and customs, and their ways of being in the world, seemed to represent difference in its raw manifestation – somatic, affective, aesthetic, imaginary. The so-called Blacks appeared subsequently as individuals who, because of the fact of their ontological difference, represented a caricature of the principle of exteriority (as opposed to the principle of inclusion).

Furthermore, to understand the creation of Blackness apart from the logic of race outlined above, there are three important events Mbembe (2017: 78) holds that need to be considered. Colonization as discussed above, slavery, and apartheid are the three events that imprison the way in which Black discourse expresses itself (Also see African Modes of Self-Writing by Mbembe (2002a: 240–242, 258–263).). Furthermore, the three historical events of slavery, colonization, and apartheid have three canonical meanings with regard to alterity. Firstly, the discourse of Blackness, i.e., the construction of race, takes place as separation from the self. Here the Black man, through separation based on alterity, leads to a loss of familiarity with the self. Hence, there is an identity imposed on the self, so that the subject has two identities or wears two masks. But, the self becomes estranged and relegated to the identity imposed by the construction of race and the category of Black, which is an alienated and almost lifeless identity. Hence, “in place of the being-connected-to-itself (another name for tradition) that might have shaped experience, one is constituted out of an alterity in which the self becomes unrecognizable to itself” (ibid., 78). The second meaning regarding the discourse of Blackness concerns the idea of disappropriation. Whereas the first meaning might refer to an abstract notion of the self and the other, the second refers to the juridical and economic procedures and practices that lead to material expropriation and disposition. In other words, the creation of race and the category of Blackness, that is, the “falsification of oneself by the other,” allowed for the experience of subjection. The combination of the first two meaning leads to a state of maximal exteriority of the self and ontological

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impoverishment. Consequently, the third meaning concerns the idea of degradation. The subject who is categorized as black is plunged into humiliation and abjection with the accompanied social death through the denial of dignity. In other words, with the creation of the myth of superiority of the Western world according to the logic of race, Blackness was regarded as the remainder: the ultimate sign of the dissimilar, of difference and the pure power of the negative – constituted the manifestation of existence as an object. Africa in general and Blackness in particular were presented as accomplished symbols of a vegetative, limited state. The Black Man, a sign in excess of all signs and therefore fundamentally unrepresentable, was the ideal example of this other-being, powerfully possessed by emptiness, for whom the negative had ended up penetrating all moments of existence – the death of the day, destruction and peril, the unnameable night of the world (ibid., 11).

Similarly, the creation of the fiction of Africa is intertwined with the creation of the racial subject, both notions of alterity impossible to assimilate (ibid., 38). The name Africa has come to signify a geographical point, but Africa also signifies a state of things with a collection of attributes or properties connected to a racial condition. In the present modern age, the state of things accordingly consists of the figure of the human as an emptiness of being and the inextricability of humans, animals, nature, life, and death. Moreover, “‘Africa’ is the name generally given to societies that are judged impotent – that is, incapable of producing the universal and of attesting to its existence” (ibid., 49). Therefore, life down there in Africa is not human; it is elsewhere – separated. “They (Africans) and we” lack accordingly the ability to share a common world. Moreover, Africa becomes the negation of responsibility and justice. Importantly, one might ask what was the function of making such a distinction between humans? Apart from logic of race in terms of identity, Mbembe (2017: 10) reminds us that one of the main reasons for creating, classifying, and hierarchizing races was with the ultimate aim of economic exploitation. In other words, in order to justify power also on an economical level, the myth of race was created (ibid., 11).

Black Thought and Difference As noted, the discourse on Blackness has two sides, one constructed by the West according to the logic of race, and the second concerns attempts at self-determination through reclaiming the racial category. These attempts may be understood historically: “In all three cases, the foundational events that were slavery, colonialism, and apartheid played a key role: they condensed and unified the desire of the Black Man to know himself (the moment of sovereignty) and hold himself in the world (the moment of autonomy)” (ibid., 78). The movements that make up the second discourse on Blackness include the various versions of Pan-Africanism and Negritude. And, although Mbembe acknowledges the efforts of these discourses concerning “the reaffirmation of a human identity denied by others” (ibid.) and thereby aims at a rehabilitation of the Black subject, the critique against these discourses is that they do not escape the logic that they seek to overcome: “But if the discourse of rehabilitation

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seeks to confirm the cobelonging of Blacks to humanity in general, it does not – except in a few rare cases – set aside the fiction of a racial subject or of race in general. In fact, it embraces the fiction" (For a broad overview of the second discourse on Blackness and its most important figures, see Mbembe (2017: 153–164). Mbembe (2002a, b) also gives an analysis of how Western metaphysics of difference was appropriated by African imaginations of the self.). Restated, the second discourse on Blackness is filled with imagined culture and imagined politics where race not only forms the basis of difference in general but also for the idea of nation as community. Race or racial determinates are regarded as necessary and a moral foundation for political solidarity (ibid., 89–90). Hence, at its roots Pan-Africanism, for instance, developed within a racist paradigm, which prevailed in Europe during the nineteenth century (Notable examples Alexander Crummell 1819–1898 (Crummell 1862 & 1891) and Edward Wilmot Blyden 1832–1912 (Lynch 1967) who were regarded as the nineteenth-century most influential Pan-Africanists on the African continent). Moreover: It was a discourse of inversion, drawing its fundamental categories from the myths that it claimed to op-pose and reproducing their dichotomies: the racial difference between Black and White, the cultural confrontation between the civilized and the savage, the religious opposition between Christians and pagans, the conviction that race founded nation and vice versa. (ibid., 92)

Accordingly, one might pose the question what might come after the logic of race? Or, what might be an alternative ontology that aims not to reinforce the oppressive logic it proclaims to overcome?

Toward a Postcolonial Universal Ontology Following from the analysis of the problem of difference, which is embodied in the concept of race and Blackness and concerns a double discourse of imposed identity and the self-determination, the question stands: what is to be done? Or, how to rethink difference ontologically without reinforcing the same logic of race or the metaphysics of difference, which it aims to overcome? As noted, Mbembe aims to formulate what we call a postcolonial universal ontology. We firstly turn to the postcolonial before we move to the postcolonial universal ontology. It is here that we will discuss the postcolonial in its double as differentiated at the beginning of the chapter. The first meaning of the postcolonial is the end of formal colonialism, as after colonialism, while the second meaning of postcolonial is freeing ourselves from the constraints and ravages of the colonial ontology of alterity.

The Postcolonial In imagining the Postcolony, Mbembe attempts at least to do two things. First, by theorizing the Postcolony, Mbembe wants to move away from thinking about

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African subjects and human difference from the Western metaphysics of difference that reduces people to the category of race. Second, he wants to describe or theorize what Africa “actually is.” He states that “the upshot is that while we now feel we know nearly everything that African states, societies, and economies are not, we still know absolutely nothing about what they actually are” (Mbembe 2001: 9). In Mbembe’s view, what is mostly theorized about Africa, particularly on African subjects and their sociopolitical realities, does not mirror actually what constitutes African sociopolitical realities and subjects today. The reason for this is that Africa is almost always imagined from the Western discourse that continues, even after the end of formal colonization, to imagine Africa as an absolute other of the West. By subtly theorizing Africa through the metaphysics of difference which by far does not represent African realities, Africa then becomes a sign of unreality. The fake representation of Africa is not only articulated by the West, and it has also been appropriated by the former colonized to imagine an Africa that is reduced to a racial category as pointed out in the previous section on race, an absolute and inferior other to the West. It is at this point were Mbembe situates his theoretical position. He challenges essentialist Pan-African views for their appropriation of the colonial racial ontology that fixes human subjects into the problematic and violent definitions of race. But he also attempts to depart from the postmodern cliché of non-substantiality of identity by framing the postcolonial African realities into what he calls multiple durées. Mbembe claims that essentialist Pan-Africanism, postmodern cliché of non-essentialism, and Western mutilated views of Africa are detrimental to understanding what African really is. He also claims that these views perform certain kinds of violence and mask the dominant geography of power in postcolonial Africa that is constituted by a multiple durées. By focusing on what he believes to be the actual sociological and anthropological constituents of postcolonial Africa, Mbembe’s theorization of the postcolonial therefore becomes a theorization of African social ontology as experienced by contemporary Africans (existential phenomenology) (Weate (2003) argues that Mbembe’s existential phenomenology is however ambivalent because of his insistence on thinking about Africa as a way of writing.). It also becomes an effort to think about African postcolonial social ontology from within a different experience of alterity. An alterity not predefined by the colonial ontological of alterity, but that flows from the precolonial and colonial heritage culminating into something different, new, and unstable. Unlike the colonial discourse that fixes African social realities and subjectivity in metaphysics of difference, a linear movement of time, and in antagonism with the West, the postcolonial properly understood is different. It is made up of “rich in unexpected turns, meanders, and changes of course, without this implying their necessary abolition in an absence of center, the torment of nonfulfillment and incompleteness, the labyrinthine entanglement” (Mbembe 2001: 8). These unstable conditions, which are often associated with African backwardness, subhumanity, and the lack of reason, Mbembe argues, are not specific features that make up Africa nor backwardness. To the contrary, human experiences in general are marked by instabilities, unexpected turns, and the absence of the center. “Fluctuations and

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indeterminacy do not necessarily amount to lack of order. Every representation of an unstable world cannot automatically be subsumed under the heading ‘chaos’” (Mbembe 2001: 8). Therefore, the ontology of multiple durées is the condition of all human experiences, and it is not unique to Africa and does not represent backwardness and racial inferiority because it defies the fix linear conception of human history as proposed of modern Western Europe. Rather than imagining the Postcolony as an absolute other to the West or as a lower moment in the development of Western reason constituted by an inferior and distinct race, Mbembe states that the Postcolony is made of an age, and by age he means: not a simple category of time but a number of relationships and a configuration of events – often visible and perceptible, sometimes diffuse, “hydra-headed,” but to which contemporaries could testify since very aware of them. As an age, the postcolony encloses multiple durées made up of discontinuities, reversals, inertias, and swings that overlay one another, interpenetrate one another, and envelope one another an entanglement. (2001: 14)

For Mbembe, there is a relationship between subjectivity and temporality, which implies that human subjectivity is itself a temporality. He believes that “for each time and each age, there exists something distinctive and particular – or, to use the term, a ‘spirit’ (Zeitgeist)” (Mbembe 2001: 15). The particularity of this spirit or Zeitgeist is constituted by distinct things which are made up of “material practices, signs, figures, superstitions, images, and fictions that, because they are available to individuals’ imagination and intelligence and actually experienced, form what might be called ‘languages of life’” at that specific historical juncture (Ibid.). Individuality or human subjectivity (Mbembe’s idea that individual African practice freedom through self-craft has faced criticism which exposes his silence on violence, see Tembo (2018).) therefore is realized within a specific historical context as defined by “living in the concrete world”: In Africa today, the subject who accomplishes the age and validates it, who lives and espouses his/her contemporaneousness – that is, what is “distinctive” or “particular” to his/her present real world – is first a subject who has an experience of “living in the concrete world.” (2001: 17)

In holding this view, Mbembe challenges the idea that what constitutes African difference is in relation to the West based on the metaphysics of difference/race. Africa in this way is not seen as an absolute other to the West, but rather, it is an entanglement of a multiple durées constituted by the Zeitgeist of the age. In postulating this view, we see a similarity between how Mbembe see the social ontology that constitute the postcolonial as a multiple durées and what he claims constituted a precolonial social ontology as understood by members of those societies through what he calls simultaneous multiplicities. As earlier intimated, Mbembe states that in some precolonial societies, the category of the image played a fundamental role in the constitution of languages and the characters of the cultures. The category of the image was the mode through

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which reality was represented and constructed. Underlying the usage of the category of the image was a particular ontology, the ontology of the multiple manifestation/ presence or simultaneous multiplicities of the same reality. From Mbembe’s presentation of precolonial ontology through the category of the image, we were logically led to the conclusion that alterity in this ontology is not absolute otherness or nonbeing as propounded by most dominant modern Western philosophies and politics, but rather, it is another side of the same reality, just different manifestation. Alterity understood as another side of the same reality permits us to acknowledge that there can be human beings who are different from us without denying their humanity because it is in the essence of reality to have simultaneous multiplicities of the same reality. Further, this ontology permits us to understand that everything, spirits, persons, and things, is not made up of one aspect but many. This means that spirits, persons, and things are presence of not one but many aspects of reality. That is why a person, though physically present, can also be an embodiment of the spirit world, spirits. Witchcraft is one case where a witch (person) is an embodiment of multiple presence, visible and invisible. In the ontology of simultaneous multiplicities, we can further deduce that there is always a relation and communication between the different aspects of the same reality which culminate into a person, a witch, a chief, ancestors, etc. As earlier intimated, a clear understanding of who a person actually is, demands an approach of simultaneous multiplicities. It is this approach that Mbembe takes in theorizing the postcolonial. With the influences of postmodernism as reflected in the philosophy of Fanon, Foucault, and Deleuze but to mention a few, Mbembe augments the notion of multiple durées with his precolonial ontology of simultaneous multiplicities. Taking the simultaneous multiplicities’ ontological and theoretical approach to theorizing the postcolonial, Mbembe arrives at the conclusion that, besides both the African, the sociopolitical, and the human subject being a temporality, they are also simultaneously multifariously constituted. What makes Africa and the African today is the presence of these simultaneous multiplicities’ actualities and potentials which can neither be reduced to the individual or the community, race or ethnicity. In the postcolonial, the simultaneous multiplicities of things converge in what Mbembe calls arbitrariness. Arbitrariness, as defined above, means a certain kind of rationality that does not demand justification for the existence of sociopolitical and cultural institutions and the kind of power that flows from them besides the fact of their immediacy or facticity. Arbitrariness is what distinguishes the postcolonial age, or it is what marks the Zeitgeist of our time (postcolonial). To be sure, arbitrariness in the postcolonial is the heritage from the colonial exercise of power over the natives. The colonial exercise of power found its justification from the facticity of conquest and violence, not in the interests of the governed natives, or the sociopolitical and ethical demands which arose out of condition of the common humanity. It therefore lacked justice of means and legitimacy of ends: “The lack of justice of the means, and the lack of legitimacy of the ends, conspired to allow an arbitrariness and intrinsic unconditionality that may be said to have been the distinctive feature of colonial sovereignty” (Mbembe 2001: 26).

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The lack of justice of means and legitimacy of ends produces its foundation which was arbitrariness that validates its own power without recourse to anything but its self. But because the power is exercised and works within a simultaneous multiplicities of persons and things, it unleashes a social ontology of violence that permeated colonial situations: “the arbitrariness that accomplishes its own work and validates itself through its own sovereignty, and thereby permits power to be exercised as a right to kill and invests Africa with deaths at once at the heart of every age and above time” (Mbembe 2001: 13). This arbitrariness reappears in the postcolonial as its distinguishing aspects together with the “extreme material scarcity, uncertainty, and inertia” (Mbembe 2001: 24). These and many other conditionalities augmenting as a presence of simultaneous multiplicities of the postcolonial which produce politics of access as a postcolonial form of alterity. To be existentially “othered” or altered is to be given/to gain or be denied access to extremely scarce resources. In this form of othering granted by arbitrariness, the postcolonial become invested with an ontology of violence which exercise “a right to kill and invests Africa with deaths” (Ibid.). In the struggle for access to extremely scarce resources, the inertia of racism, corruption, authoritarian regimes, etc. becomes hard to disperse because these become means through which to access extremely scarce resource. Keeping in mind that the exercise of power in the postcolonial is legitimized by arbitrariness which allows intrinsic unconditionality of racism, corruption, and authoritarian regimes to justify the scarcity of resources, and in turn the scarcity of resources justify the existence of racism, corruption, and authoritarian regimes unconditionally. Hence, we have a circular entanglement. A circular entanglement is based on absolute alterity, those having access vs. those denied access. This is the inertia of Black Reason. Here we see that despite anti-colonial attempts to disturb and disable the violence of colonial ontology and despite the different approaches (simultaneous multiplicities) offered by Mbembe to theorize the postcolonial social realities and human subjectivity, an ontology of violence persists which is based on (constructed) absolute alterity (access). Arbitrariness allows extremities that violate both the individual and the social. Through the categories of race, gender, class, political regime, etc., arbitrariness splits the social into being and nonbeing, the haves and the have-nots, white and black (depending on the economic geography, but feeding from colonial metaphysics of difference), and the human and nonhuman. In this way, arbitrariness disperses the possibility of ethical responsibility that the individual has to the human in-common and what the human incommon has toward the individual, ethics and politics. In On the Postcolony, Mbembe identifies how arbitrariness as the condition for the possibility of postcolonial alterity operates, and he argues that it is the cause of postcolonial violence. However, he remains silent on the alternative to this ontology of a violent alterity or at least to suggest a mode of ethics and politics that will recognize the simultaneous multiplicities of the human condition, without invoking an ontology of violence and excess that produces “disturbing powers.” Mbembe’s silence on violence is noticed when Tembo (2018: 13) writes that:

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It is within these conditions of violence – which minimise and diminish independent conduct – that Mbembe argues that the African practices self-styling through which s/he (can) become(s) a work of art. Foucault, on the other hand, argues that practices of the self come with ethical responsibility towards Others. Foucault (1987, 118) states that “care for the self is ethical in itself, but it implies complex relations with others, in the measure where this ethos of freedom is also a way of caring for others.” States of war with its technologies of violent struggle and killing cannot easily, if at all, be equated to any form of caring for others.

Despite Mbembe’s indifference to violence in his commitment to challenge the metaphysics of difference that informs most African imaginations of human subjectivity, we find some ideas that can transgress the logic of race and his indifference to violence in his work, especially the Critique of Black Reason. From Mbembe’s ontology of simultaneous multiplicities and its development in the Critique of Black Reason, we can postulate a postcolonial universal ontology that disrupts and disperses the colonial violence of absolute alterity constructed by the sociopolitical and cultural rationale of arbitrariness. In the Critique of Black Reason, Mbembe takes an ethical tone in his analysis of the persistence of the colonial racial logic and violence. He does not only say “what the thing really is” but also what it ought not to be. In what remains of the chapter, we will draw from Mbembe’s Critique of Black Reason to imagine the postcolonial universal ontology that may disrupt the postcolonial rationale of arbitrariness which continues to constitute absolute alterity.

A Universal Responsibility In the Critique of Black Reason, Mbembe (2017: 178) continues with the task of thinking a postcolonial ontology: to be African is first and foremost to be a free man, or, as Fanon always proclaimed, “a man among other men.” A man free from everything, and therefore able to invent himself. A true politics of identity consists in constantly nourishing, fulfilling, and refulfilling the capacity for self-invention. Afrocentrism is a hypostatic variant of the desire of those of African origin to need only to justify themselves to themselves. It is true that such a world is above all a form of relation to oneself. But there is no relation to oneself that does not also implicate the Other. The Other is at once difference and similarity, united. What we must imagine is a politics of humanity that is fundamentally a politics of the similar, but in a context in which what we all share from the beginning is difference. It is our differences that, paradoxically, we must share. And all of this depends on reparation, on the expansion of our conception of justice and responsibility.

Here Mbembe gives the ontology of simultaneous multiplicities political and ethical flesh. By stating that “the other is at once difference and similarity united” is to argue that human difference is an aspect of the same reality of the human incommon. To realize the political and ethical responsibility of the alternative alterity, he takes the task a step further to the realm of the universal. Hence, an additional question may be added here, namely: how does this alternative ontology and the task of reparation and responsibility relate to the rest of the world, that is, how does this postcolonial ontology avoid becoming overly particularly and thereby not relate to

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the universal? In reply to this question, one can outline two responses within Mbembe’s thought. Firstly, there is only one world. Thus, the principle of separation on which the logic of race with its ontology of inferiority is based does not do justice to our co-belonging to the world. “But there is only one world. We are all part of it, and we all have a right to it. The world belongs to all of us, equally, and we are all its coinheritors, even if our ways of living in it are not the same, hence the real pluralism of cultures and ways of being” (ibid., 187). In other words, our coexistence in the world is given and does need to be justified by some elaborated theory or reference to the possession of a characteristic like rationality that would form a common being. Rather, what is to be thought is our incommon existence or co-belonging, our being-in-the-world always with others where co-creation takes place based on lived experience. Meaning is not based on fixed essences imposed on the world but rather to be created in taking up the universal task posed to us all, namely: “The project of a world in common founded on the principle of ‘equal shares’ and on the principle of the fundamental unity of human beings is a universal project” (ibid., 176). Moreover, Mbembe (2017: 177) goes on to suggest the methodology to take up phrased as follows: “The path is clear: on the basis of a critique of the past, we must create a future that is inseparable from the notions of justice, dignity, and the in-common.” That is, we need to think the incommon beyond the logic of race and toward an postcolonial universal ontology. And we want to make clear that by universal, we mean the in-common of the human condition based on the ontology of simultaneous multiplicities. As discussed thus far, we clearly shy away from the pseudo-universalism or in-common as experienced through Western modernity. Put differently, within the one world we share, if we like it or not, we all therefore have in common the feeling or desire that each of us must be a full human being. “The desire for the fullness of humanity is something we all share” (ibid., 187). But for this desire to be met, reparation is required to build a world we share, that is, “we must restore the humanity stolen from those who have historically been subjected to processes of abstraction and objectification” (ibid.) The task of reparation correspondingly has a dual approach. On the one side, a break with “good conscience” that continue to make people believe that slavery, colonialism, and apartheid were great feats of “civilization” and in the idea of only doing justice to your own kind with the notion of unequal races and peoples. This approach is merely met with a mobilization of reparation by the historical victims of these events. On the other hand, one must escape the status of victimhood. “It is through this dual approach that we will be able to articulate a new politics and ethics founded on a call for justice” (ibid, 178). Secondly, the construction of race and the category of Black that signifies a less-than-human other have paradoxically not resulted in the upliftment of the Black man (and the aboriginal peoples of former colonies) and of Africa to the socalled West. Instead, what we see today in the neoliberal capitalistic construction of the relations of the world is what Mbembe (2017: 5) calls the Becoming Black of the world. Hence, the practice of regarding people(s) as less than human following the logic of race, in order to exploit them for capitalistic reasons, is

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spreading over the world. Therefore, racism does not only have a past but also a future with regard to the currency of citizenship and immigration where new categories of difference are created according to the logic of race that extends to culture and religion (ibid., 24). Thus, it becomes imperative that racism and the logic of race be confronted: Until we have eliminated racism from our current lives and imaginations, we will have to continue to struggle for the creation of a world- beyond-race. But to achieve it, to sit down at a table to which everyone has been invited, we must undertake an exacting political and ethical critique of racism and of the ideologies of difference. The celebration of difference will be meaningful only if it opens onto the fundamental question of our time, that of sharing, of the common, of the expansion of our horizon. (ibid., 177)

As with On the Postcolony, the critique against Mbembe may be put that he starts to outline what is to be done in Critique of Black Reason but that by no means is the program complete. The incompleteness may be exactly the task of thinking to be taken up, that is, to rethink the task of the relation to the universal/in-common and the particular in order to go beyond reducing difference to identities of race. It is here that we argue for a postcolonial universal ontology that understands alterity/difference/otherness from the ontology of simultaneous multiplicities. In this postcolonial universal ontology, there is no way a person can traverse the path of difference by transgressing sameness without invoking an ontology of violence and excess. The political and ethical responsibility therefore becomes one which allows the flourishing of the particular in-common. And alterity becomes, as necessitated by our human condition, an aspect of the same. The flourishing of the in-common depends on the flourishing of the particular and vice versa.

References Appiah, Kwame Anthony. 1992. In my father’s house: Africa in the philosophy of culture. New York: Oxford University Press. Crummell, Alexander. 1862. The future of Africa: Addresses and sermons delivered in the Republic of Liberia. New York: Charles Scribner. Crummell, Alexander. 1891. African and America: Addresses and discourse. Springfield: Welly & Co. Dirlik, Arif. 2002. Historical colonialism in contemporary perspective. Public Culture 14: 611–615. Foucault, Michel. 1987. The Ethic of the Self as Practice of Freedom: An Interview with Michel Foucault on January 20, 1984. Philosophy and Social Criticism 12 (112): 112–131. Gerber, Schalk H., and Willie L. Van der Merwe. 2017. On the paradox of the political/transcendence and eschatology: Transimmanence and the promise of love in Jean-Luc Nancy. Religions 8: 28–40. Kearney, Richard. 2003. Strangers, gods, and monsters: Interpreting otherness. London: Routledge. Lynch, Hollis. 1967. Edward Wilmot Blyden Pan-Negro Patriot 1832–1912. London: Oxford University Press. Masolo, D.A. 1997. African philosophy and the postcolonial: Some misleading abstractions about “identity”. In Postcolonial African philosophy: A critical reader, ed. E.C. Eze, 283–300. New Jersey: Blackwell Publishers. Mbembe, Achille. 2001. On the postcolony. London: University of California Press.

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Mbembe, Achille. 2002a. African modes of self writing. Public Culture 14: 239–273. Mbembe, Achille. 2002b. On the power of the false. Public Culture 14: 629–641. Mbembe, Achille. 2003. Necropolitics. Public Culture 15: 11–40. Mbembe, Achille. 2016. Politiques de l’inimitié. Paris: La Découverte. Mbembe, Achille. 2017. Critique of black reason. Johannesburg: Wits University Press. Mudimbe, Valentin-Yves. 1988. The invention of Africa: Gnosis, philosophy and the oder of knowledge. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Mudimbe, Valentin-Yves. 1994. The idea of Africa. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Ramose, Mogobe B. 1998. Struggle for reason. In The African philosophy reader, ed. P.H.I. Coetzee and A.P.J. Roux, 1–9. Great Britain: Routledge. Ramose, Mogobe B. 2005. African philosophy through Ubuntu. Harare: Mond Books Publishers. Tembo, Josias. 2018. Mbembe at the Lekgotla of Foucault’s self-styling and African identity. Phronimon 19 (1): 1–17. Weate, Jeremy. 2003. Achille Mbembe and the Postcolony: Going beyond the text. Research in African Literatures 3: 27–41.

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Alterity, African Modernity, and the Critique of Change Elvis Imafidon

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Some Poetic Expression of Africa’s Forced Change . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Conception of African Modernity as a Predicament . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Modernity and Radical Differences . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

A large chunk of the existing literature on African modernity understood here as African experience largely defined and influenced by her contact with the West or foreign cultures has mainly described the modern experience in African spaces as a predicament, an unfortunate distortion of the pre-modern status quo or systems in Africa. In this chapter I intend to explore a perspective for understanding and appreciating the description of the African experience of the West as a predicament, one founded on alterity and difference. I argue that the primary basis for understanding the claim that African modernity is a predicament is to understand the ways in which the one mode of thought or cultural orientation (African) was radically alien from, and different from, the other mode of thought or cultural orientation (Western). Specific cases of alterity between both cultures include moral values, system of education, religion, ontologies, and knowledge production and cognition systems. The African experience of the West could easily become a predicament because the former’s experience of the latter was under compulsion and the latter refused to accept and respect the otherness of the former, but rather painted it as nothing of worth. To explore this line of thought, I begin by examining important texts in the description of the African experience E. Imafidon (*) Department of Philosophy, Faculty of Arts, Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma, Nigeria e-mail: elvismafi@yahoo.com; elvis.imafi[email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_31

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of the West as a predicament. I then proceed to show that these texts can best be understood as emanating from the difficulties that were associated in coping with the difference and changes that came with African contact with the West. I conclude that difference can be a positive force and easy to accept if it is willfully understood and assimilated, but it can become a negative force and a source of frustration if it is imposed on the other by the self or vice versa. Keywords

Modernity · Africa · West · Radical differences · Social change · Predicament

Introduction A front-burner issue in the discourse of the African experience today is the nature, problems, and challenges of African modernity. African modernity is understood here as African forms of life and experiences after contact with the West, which distinguishes it from pre-modern African forms of life and experiences prior to Western influences. A common understanding of African modernity in this sense is that it is “the global expression of Western man’s superior power over natures and [African] peoples” (Diop 1980). Hence, it is seen as a largely oppressive system that imposes and forces the Western ways of life on African people disrupting the African way of life. It is a system that was perpetuated by means of the slave trade, colonialism, imperialism, and other agents and forces of Westernization. In the words of Jay Ciaffa, “colonialism violently disrupted African cultural traditions and imposed, with varying degrees of success, European forms of thought and social organisation upon colonised peoples” (Ciaffa 2008). The critique of this forced change has been enormous, protracted, and comprehensive. In response to the forced change, many have advocated for cultural revivalism, and, in the extreme, some advocates of the revivalist program have advocated for a return to past ways of life while completely abandoning Western modern ways. But more broadly construed, cultural revivalism “assumes a basically reverential attitude toward the African cultural heritage. According to this view, the key to effectively addressing contemporary problems lies in reclaiming and revitalising indigenous traditions that have been degraded and suppressed in the wake of colonialism [and modernity]” (Ciaffa 2008, p. 121). Both the critique of African modernity and the responses to the imposed and forced change that came with it have been questioned and criticized on several grounds. The critique of modernity has, for instance, been accused of shying away from the evils that Africans themselves have done and continue to do in the making of the unfortunate situations in African modernity. The responses have also been criticized for their cultural nostalgic lingering in past ways of life and past glories of Africa and the clamor for an unattainable return to, or revival of, past ways of life (see for instance Oke 2006). Critics of the conception of the African contact with the West as a predicament tend to emphasize on focusing on positive aspects of the contact and building on such. But it seems to me that critics of the perception

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of the African experience of the West as a predicament have failed to focus on an important aspect of the critique of African modernity: the forced alterity that African had to deal with in their contact with the West. The radical difference in modes of thought and the ensuing forced social change was and remains one that would always render the African experience of modernity as a predicament. For the radical difference did psychological, material, and immaterial harm to the African consciousness. Hence a new way of reading and making sense of existing literature of the critique of modernity, some of which I carefully highlight in what follows, is from the perspective of radical difference or alterity and forced social change. To clearly expose this point, I begin with an examination of some classical poems expressing the forced social change. I then explore more deeply some literary presentation of the African experience of modernity as a predicament. I proceed further to show why radical alterity is essential in understanding the literature on the critique of African modernity. I conclude that difference can be a positive force and easy to accept if it is willfully understood and assimilated, but it can become a negative force and a source of frustration if it is imposed on the other by the self or vice versa.

Some Poetic Expression of Africa’s Forced Change In this section, I will examine three poems and their depiction of Africa’s contact with the West. Perhaps an interesting poem to begin with is David Rubadiri’s “Stanley meets Mutesa.” In “Stanley meets Mutesa,” David Rubadiri gives an apposite description of Africa’s contact with the West and the tension that accompanies it. The last stanza reads: The village looks on behind banana groves, Children peer behind reed fences. Such was the welcome No singing women to chaunt a welcome Or drums to greet the white ambassador; Only a few silent nods from aged faces And one rumbling drum roll To summon Mutesa’s court to parley For the country was not sure. The gate of reeds is flung open, There is silence But only a moment’s silenceA silence of assessment. The tall black king steps forward, He towers over the thin bearded white man, Then grabbing his lean white hand Manages to whisper “Mtu Mweupe Karibu” White Man you are Welcome. The gate of polished reed closes behind them And the West is let in. (Rubadiri 1976. Emphasis is mine)

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The poem is a prototype of conflict generated by the meeting of Western ways and traditional African life. The poem describes the meeting of Stanley, one of the great explorers of the interior of Africa in the nineteenth century, with King Mutesa of Buganda. The contrast which the poet finely draws between the regal stature of the king and the puny build of Stanley is instructive. And the king’s courteous reception of Stanley is ironically symbolic: for by demonstration of nobility, he let in the means of his own colonization and dispossession (Senano and Vincent 1976a). The village is tensed with the coming of the white man, but yet he is let in and the change sets in; nothing remains the same. Gabriel Okara’s “Piano and Drums” is yet another powerful and apt description of the confusion and difference that set in from the contact between Africa and the West. And I can help but repeat the poem here: When at break of day at a riverside I hear jungle drums telegraphing The mystic rhythm, urgent, raw Like bleeding flesh, speaking of Primal youth and the beginning, I see the panther ready to pounce, The leopard snarling about to leap And the hunters crouch with spears poised; And my blood ripples, turns torrent, Topples the years and at once I’m In my mother’s laps a suckling; At once I’m walking simple Paths with no innovations, Rugged, fashioned with the naked Warmth of hurrying feet and groping hearts. In green leaves and wild flowers pulsing. Then I hear a wailing piano Solo speaking of complex ways In tear-furrowed concerto; Of far away lands And new horizons with Coaxing diminuendo, counterpoint, Crescendo. But lost in the labyrinth Of its complexities, it ends in the middle Of a phrase at a daggerpoint. And I lost in the morning mist Of an age at a riverside keep Wandering in the mystic rhythm Of jungle drums and the concerto. (Okara 1985)

Gabriel Okara paints a powerful image of the confusion, otherness, and indecision that result from the cultural alterity of African and Western cultures in modern Africa. This confusion is made vivid in the raw emotion of the poem. In the poem, “piano” represents the Western life, while “drums” represent

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African life. A description of a simple African life metaphorically represented as “drums” can be clearly seen in the first two stanzas. He says, for instance, “I am in my mother laps a suckling,” “. . . I am walking simple paths with no innovations,” “. . . in green leaves and wild flowers pulsing,” etc. This can be contrasted with the description of the Western world metaphorically represented as the “piano” in the third stanza where the poet describes a soft seductive but yet complex and somewhat deceptive tune (the Western ways): “solo speaking of complex ways in tear-furrowed concerto,” “of far away lands and new horizons. . .,” “coaxing diminuendo, counterpoint, crescendo,” etc. The last stanza makes it very vivid the confusion and lost the poet feels from this softly revealing complexity. In a similar vein, David Diop has described Western incursion on African soil as vulturine in nature in his classic “The Vultures”: In those days When civilization kicked us in the face When holy water slapped our cringing brows The vultures built in the shadow of their talons The bloodstained monument of tutelage In those days There was painful laughter on the metallic hell of the roads And the monotonous rhythm of the paternoster Drowned the howling of the plantations O the bitter memories of extorted kisses Of promises broken at the point of a gun Of foreigners who did not seem human You who knew all the books but knew not love Nor our hands which fertilize the womb of the earth Harsh instinct at the root with revolt In spite of your songs of pride in the charnel-houses In spite of the desolate villages of Africa torn apart Hope lived in us like a citadel And from Swaziland’s mines to the sweltering sweat of Europe’s factories Spring will be reborn under our bright steps. (Diop 1976)

Diop’s poem embodies some of the most powerful images of Africa’s contact with the West and Western control of Africa under the pretense of a civilizing mission closely allied to the work of Christian missionaries in converting or forcing Africa to change to a religion which demands humility (Senano and Vincent 1976b) – “When holy water slapped our cringing brows.” Diop metaphorically describes the West as “vultures,” opportunistic, greedy, and lacking humane values: “O foreigners who did not seem human,” “You who knew all the books but knew not love,” etc. The last part of Diop’s poem expresses hope for the future, a hope that rests on Africans’ ability to develop their continent on their own: “Spring will be reborn under our bright steps.” These three poems provide us with a picture of the critique of modernity which we would now explore further from important literature in the humanities published in the last six or so decades.

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The Conception of African Modernity as a Predicament The description of the African experience of foreign cultures as a predicament has been the main theme and focus of numerous books, journal articles, and other literatures. These scholarly literatures have been written to buttress the point that the African experience of foreign cultures has left the continent in a precarious state. As Abiola Irele succinctly puts it: African literatures may be said to derive an immediate interest from the testimony it offers of the preoccupation of our writers with the conflicts and dilemmas involved in the tradition/modernity dialectic. This observation is based on the simple premise that, as with many other societies and cultures in the so-called Third World, the impact of Western civilization on Africa has occasioned a discontinuity in forms of life throughout the continent. It points to the observation that the African experience of modernity associated with a Western paradigm is fraught with tensions at every level of the communal existence and individual apprehension. (Irele 2001)

Moses Oke adds that: One of the general points that may be drawn from discussions of the African predicament is that the root cause of the postcolonial continental failure is the erosion of basic African values that have helped to promote stable social existence over the ages. This erosion is then traced to the advent of colonialism and the consequence introduction of European sociopolitical systems, values and structures of capitalist economy. (Oke 2006, p. 333)

The numerous scholarly literatures on the African experience of the West as a predicament have, therefore, been preoccupied with theorizing about the dilemma that a forced Western-embellished modernity colored with radical differences had on African traditions. We have seen a tip of the iceberg in the previous section where three poems have the same focus – exposing the confusion and difference resulting from Africa’s contact with the West. However, the seriousness of the issue can only be appreciated with a more thorough and broader analysis of the position from the perspective of the humanities. These literatures aim to show the reader the adverse effect that agents of Westernization – slavery, colonialism, imperialism, and globalization – had and continue to have on African communities and nation-states. We shall attempt here to examine a few out of many. Let us begin with Frantz Fanon’s classics: Black Skin, White Masks and The Wretched of the Earth (Fanon 1963, 2008). Black Skin, White Masks remains one of the first deliberate attempts to express the pain, anger, and psychological trauma or mental disorder that resulted from the colonial experience. First written in 1952 (trans. to English, 1967), the book expresses the outrage and anger of the author over the negative effects of colonialism on the Black continent. According to Ziauddin Sardar, the book is an attempt to express: The anger of all whose cultures, knowledge systems and ways of being that are ridiculed, demonized, declared inferior and irrational, and, in some cases, eliminated. This is not just any anger. It is the universal fury against oppression in general, and the perpetual domination

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of the Western civilization in particular. This anger. . . is an anger borne out of grinding experience, painfully long self analysis, and even longer thought and reflection. As such, it is a guarded anger, directed at a specific, long term desire. The desire itself is grounded in self-consciousness. (Sardar 2008)

The anger expressed in the book is evidently borne out of the author’s investigation of the psychology of colonialism. (The psychology of colonialism developed by Fanon in Black Skin, White Masks and later in The Wretched of the Earth has further been rigorously developed by Thiong’o (1986) and Nandy (1989). Nandy, A., for example, therefore defines colonialism in the first chapter of the work: “Psychology of Colonialism: Sex, Age and Ideology in British India,” as “a psychological state. . . in both the colonizers and the colonized. It represents a certain cultural continuity and carries a certain cultural baggage,” p. 2.) He examines how colonialism is internalized by the colonized, how an inferiority complex is inculcated, and how, through the mechanism of racism, black people end up emulating their oppressors. Fanon writes from the perspective of a colonized subject. He is a subject with a direct experience of racism who has developed a natural and intense hatred of racism. When it comes to experience, this is no ordinary subject: already the author has fought for the resistance in the Caribbean and France, has been wounded near the Swiss border, and has received a citation for courage. He has a professional interest in psychoanalysis and speaks of Sigmund Freud, Alfred Adler, and Carl Gustav Jung without much distinction. He offers us a psychoanalytic interpretation of the black problem. But we can be sure that this is not a therapy session. Fanon is no armchair philosopher or academic theorist. He has a more urgent and pressing thing on his mind: liberation (Sardar 2008, pp. x–xi). And how can this urgent and pressing need be achieved? According to Fanon, “For the Negro who works on a sugar plantation in Le Robert, there is only one solution: to fight. He will embark on this struggle, and he will pursue it, not as a result of a Marxist or idealistic analysis but quite simply because he cannot conceive of life otherwise than in the form of a battle against exploitation, misery and hunger” (Fanon 2008, p. 174). But Black Skin, White Masks is only a prelude to a more energetic and radical presentation of the negative effects, particularly the mental disorder, resulting from colonization and the suggestion that a violent revolution that can completely break away from Western influence is the only way forward: The Wretched of the Earth. As Fanon says: That imperialism which today is fighting against a true liberation of mankind leaves in its wake here and there tinctures of decay which we must search out and mercilessly expel from our land and our spirits. (Fanon 1963, p. 249)

With a controversial Preface by Jean-Paul Sartre, The Wretched of the Earth is written with specific regard to the Algerian experience of Westernization or colonization. In this famous work, colonization is described in quite horrifying terms as a systematic negation of the other person and a furious determination to deny the other person all attributes of humanity, which forces the people it dominates to ask themselves the question constantly: “In reality, who am I?” The defensive attitudes

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created by this violent bringing together of the colonized man and the colonial system form themselves into a structure which then reveals the colonized personality. This “sensitivity” is easily understood if we simply study and are alive to the number and depth of the injuries inflicted upon a native during a single day spent amidst the colonial regime. It must in any case be remembered that a colonized people is not only simply a dominated people. In Algeria, for example, there is not simply the domination but the decision to the letter not to occupy anything more than the sum total of the land. The Algerians, the veiled women, the palm trees, and the camels make up the landscape, the natural background to the human presence of the French (ibid., p. 250). The Wretched of the Earth stresses far more than Black Skin, White Masks the mental disorder and psychological trauma left by colonization. In fact, Fanon says somewhere within the text that: The truth is that colonialism in its essence was already taking on the aspect of a fertile purveyor for psychiatric hospitals. We have since 1954 in various scientific works drawn the attention of both French and international psychiatrists to the difficulties that arise when seeking to “cure” a native properly, that is to say, when seeking to make him thoroughly a part of a social background of the colonial type. (ibid., pp. 249–250)

The mental disorder or psychological trauma associated with colonization is an outcome of the suffering and abuses that the colonized go through in the hands of the colonizers: forced labor, corporal punishment, inequalities in salaries, limitation of political rights, etc. (ibid., p. 148) Fanon also argues in line with Sartre (in the Preface) that colonization did not only result in psychological problems but led to the complete destruction of the cultural values of the people who were then compelled to accept Western ways while abandoning theirs. As Sartre says in the Preface: The European elite undertook to manufacture a native elite. They picked out promising adolescents; they branded them, as with a red-hot iron, with the principles of Western culture; they stuffed their mouths full with high-sounding phrases, grand glutinous words that stuck to the teeth. After a short stay in the mother country they were sent home, whitewashed. These walking lies had nothing left to say to their brothers; they only echoed. From Paris, from London, from Amsterdam we would utter the words “Parthenon! Brotherhood!” and somewhere in Africa or Asia lips would open “. . . thenon! . . . therhood!” It was the golden age. (Sartre 1963)

For this reason, Fanon is harshly critical of Europeans. He admonishes Africans to completely rid themselves of the influence of Europe: Leave this Europe where they are never done talking of Man, yet murder men everywhere they find them, at the comer of every one of their own streets, in all the corners of the globe. For centuries they have stifled almost the whole of humanity in the name of a so-called spiritual experience. Look at them today swaying between atomic and spiritual disintegration. . . Europe has declined all humility and all modesty; but she has also set her face against all solicitude and all tenderness.

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She has only shown herself parsimonious and niggardly where men are concerned; it is only men that she has killed and devoured. So, my brothers, how is it that we do not understand that we have better things to do than to follow that same Europe? (Fanon 1963, pp. 311–312)

He continues: That same Europe where they were never done talking of Man, and where they never stopped proclaiming that they were only anxious for the welfare of Man: today we know with what sufferings humanity has paid for every one of their triumphs of the mind. Come, then, comrades, the European game has finally ended; we must find something different. We today can do everything, so long as we do not imitate Europe, so long as we are not obsessed by the desire to catch up with Europe. (ibid., p. 312)

In fact the concluding chapter is devoted to a harsh condemnation of Europe (or the West). What is the way forward? As usual with his writings, violence is given a prominent place in The Wretched of the Earth. This is clearly seen in Sartre’s Preface, and in the first chapter entitled “Concerning Violence.” Fanon is hardly the only one that has given such a harsh condemnation of the colonizers and the precarious situation they have put Africans in. Another thorough criticism of the West in relation to the conception of the African experience of foreign cultures as a predicament is the confiscated work of Albert Memmi: The Colonizer and the Colonized first published in 1965 (Memmi 1965). Memmi gives a similar description of the colonizers as Fanon. According to him the colonizer in the colonial territory assumes the behavior inherent in his role such as brutality, bigotry, exploitation, and oppression; gin is the fundamental driving force of the colonizers, which obviously explains the situation of sustained exploitation carried out by the colonizers against the colonized. Memmi also explains how the colonizer formulates a somewhat imaginary image of the colonized in order for him to fully perpetuate his exploitation and oppression of the colonized. The colonizer portrays the colonized as lazy, primitive, lacking civility, etc.; in this way, the colonizer is able to turn the colonized into an object existing only as a function of his needs (see ibid., pp. 80–83). Having shown this domineering relationship between the colonizer and the colonized, Memmi then concentrates on showing why colonialism can only be stopped through a violent revolt, not through the initiative of the colonizers. Revolt seems to be the only option because the only other alternative option – assimilation – will not be possible. This is because inherent in it is an overthrow of the colonial status quo, and, as such, it will never be tolerated by the colonizers. Subsequently, the only tool left for the colonized is to reclaim their liberty by force. Perhaps, these two scholars – Fanon and Memmi – were greatly influenced by the work of a foremost predecessor: Aime Cesaire in his Discourse on Colonialism (Cesaire 2000). It is thus not surprising that they quote him copiously in their works. Hence, it will only be appropriate to say a thing or two about Cesaire’s Discourse on Colonialism. Discourse on Colonialism first appeared in 1950 (trans. to English, 1952). To be sure, it energetically embodied and reflected the same views expressed by Fanon, Memmi, and others later: the evils of colonialism and a campaign for

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a declaration of war against it. As Robin D. G. Kelly says in his Introduction to Discourse on Colonialism entitled “A Poetics of Anticolonialism”: Aime Cesaire’s Discourse on Colonialism might be best described as a declaration of war. I would almost call it a “third world manifesto,” but hesitate because it is primarily a polemic against the old order bereft of the kind of propositions and proposals that generally accompany manifestos. Yet, Discourse speaks in revolutionary cadences, capturing the spirit of its age just as Marx and Engels did 102 years earlier in their little manifesto. (Kelly 2000)

He adds that Discourse on Colonialism offers new insights into the consequences of colonialism and a model for dreaming a way out of our postcolonial predicament and the barbaric West. It also draws our attention to the fact that while we still need to overthrow all vestiges of the old colonial order, destroying the old is just half the battle (ibid., p. 28). Cesaire himself starts Discourse on Colonialism with three indicting statements against the West: A civilization that proves incapable of solving the problems it creates is a decadent civilization. A civilization that chooses to close its eyes to its most crucial problems is a stricken civilization. A civilization that uses its principles for trickery and deceit is a dying civilization. (Cesaire 2000, p. 31)

By implication, he adds that “The fact is that the so-called European civilization – ‘Western’ civilization – as it has been shaped by two centuries of bourgeois rule, is incapable of solving the two major problems to which its existence has given rise: the problem of the proletariat and the colonial problem; that Europe is unable to justify itself either before the bar of ‘reason’ or before the bar of ‘conscience’; and that, increasingly, it takes refuge in a hypocrisy which is all the more odious because it is less and less likely to deceive” (ibid.). Thus, Europe is morally and spiritually indefensible (ibid., p. 32). And colonialism, even though it may kill, crack down, and imprison, the colonized now know that their temporary masters are lying and the principal lie is that colonialism brings civilization. But the truth is it destroys civilization, it breeds tyranny, it promotes the frontiers of ignorance, and it is inimical to the rule of law (ibid., pp. 32–33). Cesaire puts it thus: And I say that between colonization and civilization there is an infinite distance; that out of all the colonial expeditions that have been undertaken, out of all the colonial statutes that have been drawn up, out of all the memoranda that have been dispatched by all the ministries, there could not come a single human value. (ibid., p. 34)

Hence, he starts his study with an analysis of “how colonization works to decivilize the colonizer, to brutalize him in the true sense of the word, to degrade him, to awaken him to buried instincts, to covetousness, violence, race hatred, and moral relativism;. . .” (ibid., p. 35) he then gives a detailed analysis of how agents of Westernization such as slavery, colonialism, and Christianity destroyed the cultures,

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values, and potentials of Africans. In doing this, he becomes quite emotional and embittered: I am talking about societies drained of their essence, cultures trampled underfoot, institutions undermined, lands confiscated, religions smashed, magnificent artistic creations destroyed, extraordinary possibilities wiped out. . . I am talking about thousands of men sacrificed to the Congo Ocean? I am talking about those who, as I write this, are digging the harbor of Abidjan by hand. I am talking about millions of men torn from their gods, their land, their habits, their life – from life, from the dance, from wisdom. I am talking about millions of men in whom fear has been cunningly instilled, who have been taught to have an inferiority complex, to tremble, kneel, despair, and behave like flunkeys. . . I am talking about natural economies that have been disrupted harmonious and viable economies adapted to the indigenous population– about food crops destroyed, malnutrition permanently introduced, agricultural development oriented solely toward the benefit of the metropolitan countries; about the looting of products, the looting of raw materials. They [Europeans] pride themselves on abuses eliminated. I too talk about abuses, but what I say is that on the old ones – very real – they have superimposed others–very detestable. They talk to me about local tyrants brought to reason; but I note that in general the old tyrants get on very well with the new ones, and that there has been established between them, to the detriment of the people, a circuit of mutual services and complicity. . . colonial Europe grafted modern abuses onto ancient injustice, hateful racism onto ancient inequality. (ibid., pp. 43–45)

For these reasons, Cesaire says, “the barbarism of Western Europe has reached an incredibly high level, being only surpassed – far surpassed, it is true – by the barbarism of the United States” (ibid., p. 47). Therefore, comrades, he says, “you will hold as enemies. . . And sweep out all the obscurers. . . And do not seek to know whether personally those gentlemen are in good or bad faith, whether personally they have good or bad intentions. Whether personally. . . they are or are not colonialists because the essential thing is that their highly problematic subjective good faith is entirely irrelevant to the objective social implication of the evil work they perform as watchdogs of colonialism” (ibid., pp. 54–55). The goal of such revolt is to promote an African, non-European civilization; for as he clearly states “. . .I make a systematic defence of the non-European civilization” (ibid., p. 44). Another scholar that has been greatly influenced by Cesaire (as well as Fanon) is Walter Rodney, famous for his classic How Europe Underdeveloped Africa (Rodney 2005), a book that caused him his life (see Bacchus 2005). In this book, Rodney gives a thorough and detailed analysis of the major role played by the West in the present precarious and underdeveloped state of African nations. This is clearly seen in the topics discussed by each chapter of the book. In Chap. 4, for instance, entitled “Europe and the Roots of African Underdevelopment to 1885,” Rodney gives a systematic and detailed analysis of such themes as the European slave trade as a basic factor in African underdevelopment, technological stagnation, and distortion of the African economy in the pre-colonial epoch and the coming of imperialism and colonialism (see Rodney 2005, pp. 108–176).

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Being also influenced by Karl Marx, his work follows the trend of Marxism or historical materialism. Hence he states that “power is the ultimate determinant in human society, being basic to the relations within any group and between groups. It implies the ability to defend one’s interests and, if necessary, to impose ones will by any means available. In relations between peoples, the question of power determines manoeuvrability in bargaining, the extent to which a people survive as a physical and cultural entity. When one society finds itself forced to relinquish its power entirely, that is a form of underdevelopment” (Rodney, W., quoted by Smiley 2010). It therefore follows logically that the West is responsible for the underdevelopment of Africa since she forced Africa to relinquish its power and freedom completely by means of agents of Westernization. Therefore, Rodney charts the need for a break from the exploitative and ravaging colonial and neocolonial systems in order for a new order to be created. As Vincent Harding says in the Introduction to the 2009 edition of the book: It is our courageous, creative attempt to respond to such a magnificent summons that we begin to break the chains of our underdevelopment and shake the foundations of all human exploitation. And is it not clear by now that the process of exploitation leads to an underdeveloped humanity both at the “centre” and at the “periphery”? Do we not see that the underdevelopment of the centre, in the homeland of the exploiters, is simply covered over with material possession and deadly weaponry, but that the nakedness and human retardation are nevertheless there? So who among us does not need to break the coils of the past, to transcend and recreate our history? (Harding 2005)

How can this complete breakaway from the exploitative colonial and neocolonial systems be reached? After a detailed account of the slavery, subjugation, deprivation, and humiliation, when whole civilizations were crushed in order to serve the imperialist selfish interests of the West, when settled societies were disintegrated by force of imperialist arms so that the plantation owners of the “new world” could get their uprooted, and therefore permanent labor force to build what is now the most advanced and powerful capitalist economy, it becomes absolutely clear that the only way out of the current impasses is through a revolutionary path (Babu 2005). Another prominent scholar of the African experience is Basil Davidson who, although has been writing about Africa for more than four decades, is famous for two major works: Africa in History and The Black Man’s Burden: Africa and the Curse of the Nation-State (Davidson 1981, 2000). Africa in History sings the praise of the authenticity of early, pre-colonial Africa, its civilization – e.g., Egyptian civilization (For details on Davidson’s view on Egyptian civilization, see Africa in History, 15ff.) – culture (specifically the ancestral heritage), and political and social institutions. It then laments the negative consequences that slave trade and colonialism had and continue to have on this authentic civilization. He uses the suffering of the blacks in South Africa during the racial apartheid as an instance where blacks were prohibited from the “white fortress” of government, wealth, and education (ibid., p. 347) in their own native land. Africa in History also highlights the unrest in postcolonial Africa evident in civil wars, corruption, and political instability. But a thorough

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going analysis of what has gone wrong in postcolonial Africa did not emerge until the publication of The Black Man’s Burden. The Black Man’s Burden is a thorough-going attempt to diagnose what is wrong with postcolonial Africa, specifically its political institutions. It is “an excellent introduction and historical background to the institutional and leadership crises facing Africa in the 1990s” (Hall 1993). Basil sets off by admitting that: . . . the actual and present condition of Africa is one of deep trouble, sometimes a deeper trouble than the worst imposed during the colonial years. For some time now, deserts have widened year by year. Broad savannahs and communities have lost all means of existence, or else are sorely threatened. Tropical forests such as the world would never see again have fed the export maw. Cities that barely deserve the name have spawned plague of poverty on a scale never known in earlier times, or even dreamed of. Harsh governments or dictatorships rule over peoples who distrust them to the point of hatred, and usually for good and sufficient reason; and all too often one dismal tyranny gives way to a worse one. Despair rots civil society; the state becomes an enemy; bandits flourish. Meanwhile, the “developed” world, the industrialized world has continued to take its cut of Africa’s dwindling wealth. (Davidson 2000, p. 9)

But what is responsible for the many problems of Africa? As Davidson considers the question of “what has gone wrong in Africa,” he lays the blame squarely on a virulent Western neocolonial nation-state system. The idea that the modern nationstate was the machine that would power decolonization in Central and Eastern Europe and Africa was taken for granted. Sovereign African governments would take the place of colonial ones, and few gave the issue much more thought than that. He does not blame Africans for this. African leaders like Nyerere of Tanzania saw the potential for disaster in Africa’s instant move from colonies to numerous and competing nations. He and others proposed federalist systems as the alternative: “unities of sensible association across wide regions within which national cultures, far from seeking to destroy or maim each other, could evolve their diversities and find in them a mutual blessing” (ibid., p. 286). Suggestions such as these were swept away by the tide of nationalist self-assertion that washed over Africa as it threw off colonialism. Unfortunately, applying European “solutions” (which proved not even to work in Europe) to African challenges spelled disaster absolutely everywhere (see A Review: The Black Man’s Burden – Africa and the Curse of the Nation-State. Retrieved December 02, 2010 from: http://asmarino.com/articles/809-a-review-theblack-mans-burden-africa-and-thecurse-of-the-nation-state-by-basil-davidson-). Western Europeans certainly took the virtues of the modern nation-state for granted. They ignored the evidence coming out of Eastern Europe and the Balkans, where groups like the Serbs, when given the chance, eventually set up brutal authoritarian ethnocentric regimes. Though support from the mass of African people was necessary in the movements to throw off colonialism, their leaders were most often European educated and in general shared many of the same assumptions as their colonial rulers, especially when it came to the idea of what postcolonial governments would look like. After “liberation,” they quickly devolved into client states of Europe and later the USA and Soviet Union. They needed the common people to launch their movements, but ended up betraying them utterly. As central

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governments collapsed and poverty deepened to the point of starvation in many places, an atmosphere of despair gave rise to despotic governments that gutted the infrastructures of countries, taking everything they could steal. The core issue as Davidson sees it is what nations exist for: do they exist for their own sake, for the material benefit of the elites who run them, or do they exist to serve the interests of the people? What is perhaps most tragic is that Africans themselves had answered this question in the pre-colonial period in favor of mass citizen participation, and had their own history not been violently disrupted and ultimately rejected and forgotten, Africa would most probably look very different today (ibid.). The reason why things are so bad in Africa, therefore, is because “liberation has led to alienation” (Davidson 2000, p. 10). Davidson maintains that African leaders (often with Western training and ideology), in their rush to liberation and in their alienation from African culture which they viewed as savage and primitive, agreed to construct new nation-states of European models imposed upon them by supposedly departing colonial authorities; they uncritically accepted undemocratic and authoritarian elements in the colonial legacy (Hall 1993, p. 157). Put differently, the educated African elite who aspired to self-governance were alienated from their own history. These would become the people of the mission in Soyinka’s Aké. Many of them were “re-captives” who had been enslaved by Africa, liberated by Europe, and resettled in Sierra Leone or Liberia, so they adopted nineteenth-century European liberal ideas including the nation-state. Alienated from Africa, they become the agents of “Christianity and Constitution” (Davidson 2000, p. 27). They returned to their African homes as missionaries or, sometimes, in the colonial administration, often after being well educated overseas (Grose 1999). These African “re-captive” elite chose to reject their own history although it could have been a valuable resource. Hence the West succeeded in dislodging “the indigenous institutions at the same time robbed colonized peoples of every scope and freedom for self-development” (Davidson 2000, p. 72). Africans were denied the opportunities to reform their societies in a way consistent with their own environment and experience. The way forward is a return to pre-colonial institutions and a complete breakaway from the institutions of the West. Davidson contends that pre-colonial tribes were nations with experience in governing themselves in a way appropriate to their environment since the first farming communities had developed on the continent around 6000 B. C. This experience was ignored when power was given to legal and constitutional experts with a European orientation. Many African societies had developed into myth-based participatory polities with distrust of executive power. For example, the Igbo resisted chiefs and kings even when the British tried to impose them. The Yoruba myth of origin legitimized regional distribution of power; it was a “Charter for the rulers, the descendants of Oduduwa.” It built in checks and balances on power with the Alafin or king, the Oyo Mesi, or big men from big families and the Ogboni society which provided access to power by new groups (ibid., p. 87). The balance of power was distorted by colonialism. The colonial mentality dismissed ethnic diversity as “tribalism.” Ethnic units were grouped together into tribes for administrative convenience (ibid., p. 100). These groupings

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became tools to amplify the group’s political voice in postcolonial clientelist political structures. Differences were masked during the social struggle against colonialism, but they emerged within the structure of the nation-state imposed with independence to serve the commercial interests of colonial powers (Grose 1999). Obviously, one cannot possibly exhaust the list of scholars who have extensively discussed the African experience as a predicament in books, poems, novels, and other literatures. That we have not discussed works like Chinua Achebe’s classic novel, Things Fall Apart, that discusses the negative consequences of colonialism, specifically with regard to cultural alienation (Achebe 1969), or Cheikh H. Kane’s novel, Ambiguous Adventure, that illuminates the cultural confusion that has resulted from the meeting of Western and African forms of life (Kane 1969) gives credence to this fact. What we have attempted to do here is a sketch of what such a discourse resembles by presenting a summary of the views of a few of some of the famous scholars that have described the African experience of the West as a predicament. J. Obi Oguejiofor has given a fine summary of the negative consequences that has resulted from the African experience of the West and as contained in many scholarly discourses on the African experience in his Philosophy and the African Predicament (see Oguejiofor 2001). Such consequences include fear, psychological trauma, social insecurity, political instability, incompetent leadership, violence, economic crises, and cultural alienation. Critics of this perspective of the African experience of the West often argue that such a perspective is parochial and myopic because it focuses too much on the negative contribution of the West to Africa’s modernity completely ignoring the positive aspects. Two authors readily come to mind here: A. Oyebola’s Black Man’s Dilemma and J. O. Odey’s Africa: The Agony of a Continent: Can Liberation Theology Offer Any Solution (Oyebola 1976; Odey 1996). These scholars’ works were greatly informed by their visit and tour of Europe and, undoubtedly, by their Western training. They have both contended that pre-colonial Africa was ridden with negativity, backwardness, parochialism, and primitiveness until the “thinking world” (i.e., the West), as Ayebola would put it, intervened. These scholars are strongly convinced that Africans are inferior to all other races. Odey aptly expresses this view thus: After visiting some other parts of the world. . . after seeing just a little of what the white man has done in Europe and America. I began to ask myself questions, which under normal circumstances should not have arisen at all: is the black man truly made of the same stuff as the white man? Is the black man equally created in the image of God, endowed with the faculty of reason to be used in conquering, transforming and recreating the world as the white man has been doing? (Odey 1996, pp. 63–64. Quoted by Oguejiofor 2001, p. 57)

This obviously is an outright vilification of Africans. But it is this group of African scholars who see nothing good in Africa and justify everything done by the West that Fanon describes earlier as the “native elite” and Davidson as “re-captives” who haven’t visited the West and received their training there have been brainwashed and whitewashed to the extent that they see nothing good or positive about their own culture or roots, but see the West only in positivity. In this

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way, they oversimplify the African experience: they see slavery as a normal part of history; they see colonialism, imperialism, and globalization as merely a positive enlightenment for the colonized; and they view Christianity as a liberation from the shackles of false, barbaric, and primitive religious systems. But it is obvious both from everyday experience and from the bulk of scholarly discourse on the African experience that we cannot afford such a naïve simplification. The African experience is much more complicated than an all-rosy approach to it, and it is difficult, almost futile, to deny that the African experience of the West has not produced precarious situations for the continent. Perhaps, such critics would better understand the perspective of African modernity as a predicament if they pay closer attention to the alterity or radical differences it brought to African spaces.

African Modernity and Radical Differences African modernity saw the inauguration of many forms of radical differences with the Western form of life alleged to be the dominant form of identity and African form of life residues of such identity that the former consciously strives to suppress and ridicule. We vividly see these punctuations of radical differences all over the discourse of the precarious nature of African modernity in the previous section, difference that alienates and violently others the one from the other, whites and blacks, the European and the African, the colonizer and the colonized, the liberal and the communal, the allegedly civilized and the allegedly barbaric, and the logical and the illogical or pre-logical, and the predicaments quickly manifest from the one deliberately and consistently compelling the other to become her, compelling indeed, with lots of threats, the other to abandon her ways of life and accept without questioning or doubting the way of the one. There are many specific cases where this dangerous play of the one and the other, the West and Africa, manifest. Take, for instance, education. The West implanted their formal education system and dislodged the African education system as informal and ineffective due to the difference in the principles and methods of education. Those who had been educated in the “informal” form were now referred to as “illiterates,” a derogatory term used not merely to make the other abandon his ways of education but to make her assimilate, accept, and live by the rules of the one. The Western education system in Africa was then used to perpetuate even more precarious forms of otherness such as othering the Western-educated African from the non-Western-educated African. In the words of Ihechukwu Madubuike: French education, without a doubt, has produced individuals who are alienated from their traditional culture, who display a Western model of behaviour (they eat at the table, wear suits and ties, spend their holidays in France) but who all the same are not assimilated because they betray by their social conduct some of the traditional values still clinging to their normal selves. (Madubuike 1983. Quoted in M’Baye 2006)

The same form of radical alterity is noticed in religion in African modernity. In the dawn of African modernity, African indigenous religions became trivialized

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and were caught in a crisis of relevance. The Judeo-Christian religion of the West has succeeded quite well in presenting African indigenous religions as irrelevant and evil in nature. What results from this is that Christian converts in Africa today regard the missionaries as superior instructors and authorities in religious matters than traditional priests and diviners. The efficacy of intercessory rituals of traditional priests and diviners is questioned and slighted; Christian doctrines as expressed in catechism and bible passages become the unquestioned and cherished religious system. In the early days of Christian missionary activities in Africa, pupils and even teachers were not left with any option but to accept the doctrine of the missions in charge of their schools as this was a requirement for admission and employment. In this way the West succeeded in displacing traditional beliefs and installing Western ones (Onobhayedo 2007, p. 271). This displacement of indigenous religions had severe effects on the moral values of African peoples since there was a close link between moral and religious beliefs – religion played a key role in the enforcement of moral codes of conduct. In the words of Bolaji Idowu: Christianity by a miscarriage of purpose makes its own contribution to the detrimental changes in moral values. Somehow it has replaced the old fear of the divinities with the relieving but harmful notion of a God who is ready to forgive perhaps even more than man is prone to sin, the God in whom ‘goodness and severity’ have been put asunder. So also does Islam unwittingly create the erroneous impression that the fulfilment of the obligatory duties and acts of penance by good works are sufficient for the purpose of winning heaven. The result of all these is that our ‘enlightened’ products of the two ‘fashionable’ religions can now steal without any twinge of moral compunction those articles of food placed for sale at cross roads and by roadsides, which used to be quite safe; they can now cheerfully appropriate other persons’ property; they can break covenants, or promises made on oath, with brazen indifference. (Idowu 1977)

Other forms of radical differences and dislocation in the ways of life of African peoples that came into being due to Africa’s contact with the West include the disregard for indigenous languages in favor of the English and French languages, the dislodging of indigenous marriage/familial system, and the disruption of traditional healthcare system and other institutions, values, and norms meant to sustain order or equilibrium in the community. For instance, traditional health practitioners have been relegated to inferior positions since the advent of Westernization. Several aspects of their practices are now regarded as unscientific, superstitious and, possibly, hazardous to health when compared to orthodox Western medicine which is now seen as the only source of good health and well-being (ibid., p. 271). Today these differences remain glaring and cannot be denied. Questions of white privileges, white supremacy, inferiority of indigenous knowledge and practices, antiblack racism, and the like emerged and remain entrenched in the African experience due to a Western-tailored African modernity. Hence, as found in majority of existing literature on African modernity, it is in no way out of place to blame the West for the African predicament since she is guilty of inaugurating and deliberately perpetuating radical forms of difference and alterity in Africa spaces both in Africa and in the Diaspora. And the search for solution to the present and ongoing challenges may not be found simply in a revivalist approach or in an approach sympathetic toward the

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West. It may be found more easily in attempts to understand and appreciate by both the player and the played, the oppressor and the oppressed, the one and the other the radical forms of differences that shape our lived experiences; it is important that both the Westerner and African understand that a meaningful life is attainable through mutual respect for differences and not by attempt to suppress the differences and envelop them into the one.

Conclusion The beauty of life lies in the abundance of difference. The opportunity we have to experience the other and the not-the-same is the fragrance and color of a meaningful life. Seeing the different and experiencing the not-the-same bring awe and wonder, but unfortunately, the awe and wonder often too quickly creep into a fearful wonder about the different, the other, an unholy fear that quickly instigates the violation of, and the violence toward, the other. A negative experience of the other is thus born, and a negative relation with the different is planted on hostile grounds. The West’s experiences of Africa’s difference was mostly viewed in negative light, a negativity that brought about hostility toward the African other and threatened the meaningfulness of the African life. If the negativity toward African difference continues, both the West and Africa will know no peace. A change of attitude in the encounter of the African other by the Westerner and of the Western other by the African is therefore essential: a positive approach to difference. A positive approach to difference consists of respect for the being and character of the other and the ability to hold back from the urge to suppress the other or make the other into the same as self. If the West maintains a positive approach to Africa’s difference and vice versa, a meaningful relationship between the one and the other would emerge.

References Achebe, C. 1969. Things fall apart. New York: Ballantine Press. Babu, A.M. 2005. Postscript to Rodney, W. How Europe underdeveloped Africa, 353–354. Abuja: Panaf Publishing. Bacchus. 2005. Walter Rodney. Rodney, W. How Europe underdeveloped Africa, 360. Abuja: Panaf Publishing. Cesaire, A. 2000. Discourse on colonialism. Trans. J. Pinkham. New York: Monthly Review Press. Ciaffa, Jay A. 2008. Tradition and modernity in postcolonial African philosophy. Humanitias XXI (1&2): 121. Davidson, B. 1981. Africa in history. New York: Macmillan Publishing. Davidson, B. 2000. The Black man’s burden: Africa and the curse of the nation-state. Ibadan: Spectrum Books Limited. Diop, D. 1976. The vultures. In A selection of African poetry, ed. K. Senano and T. Vincent, 70–71. New York: Macmillan Press. Diop, A. 1980. Editorial: For an African modernity. Presence Africaine 116: 13. Fanon, F. 1963. The wretched of the earth. Trans. C. Farrington. New York: Grove Press. Fanon, F. 2008. Black skin, white masks. Trans. C.L. Markmann. London: Pluto Press.

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Grose, D. 1999. Basil Davidson’s The Black man’s burden Africa and the curse of the nation-state: A review. Retrieved on 12 Feb 2011, from http://www.groseducationalmedia.ca/bmb.html Hall, R.W. 1993. Review: The Black man’s burden: Africa and the curse of the nation-state by Basil Davidson. African Studies Review 36 (3): 157. Harding, V. 2005. Introduction to Rodney, W. How Europe underdeveloped Africa, xxvii. Abuja: Panaf Publishing. Idowu, B. 1977. Olodumare, 146. London: Longman Publishing. Irele, A. 2001. African imagination: Literature in Africa and the Black Diaspora, ix. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Kane, C.H. 1969. Ambiguous adventure. Toronto: Macmillan Publishing. Kelly, R.D.G. 2000. Introduction: A poetics of anticolonialism, to Cesaire, A. Discourse on colonialism. Trans. J. Pinkham, 7. New York: Monthly Review Press. M’Baye, B. 2006. Colonization and African modernity in Cheikh Hamidau Kane’s Ambiguous Adventure. Journal of African Literature and Culture 3 (IACALC): 199. Madubuike, I. 1983. The Senegalese novel: A sociological study of the impact of the politics of assimilation, 67. Washington, DC: Three Continents Press. Memmi, A. 1965. The colonizer and the colonized. New York: Orion Press. Nandy, A. 1989. The intimate enemy: Loss and recovery of self under colonialism. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Odey, J.O. 1996. Africa: The agony of a continent: Can liberation theology help? Enugu: Snaap. Oguejiofor, J.O. 2001. Philosophy and the African predicament, 29–49. Ibadan: Hope Publication. Okara, G. 1985. Piano and drums. In Touched with fire: An anthology of poems, ed. J. Hydes, 27. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Oke, Moses. 2006. Cultural nostalgia: A philosophical critique of appeals to the past in theories of re-making Africa. Nordic Journal of African Studies 15 (3): 332–343. Onobhayedo, A. 2007. Western education and social change in Esan land. IRORO: A Journal of Arts 7: 270–271. Oyebola, A. 1976. Black man’s dilemma. Ibadan: Board Publications. Rodney, W. 2005. How Europe underdeveloped Africa. Abuja: Panaf Publishing. Rubadiri, D. 1976. Stanley meets Mutesa. In A selection of African poetry, ed. K. Senano and T. Vincent, 93–94. New York: Macmillan Press. Sardar, Z. 2008. Foreword to Fanon, F. Black skin, white masks. Trans. C.L. Markmann, vi–vii. London: Pluto Press. Sartre, J.-P. 1963. Preface to Fanon, F. The wretched of the earth. Trans. C. Farrington, 7. New York: Grove Press. Senano, K., and T. Vincent, eds. 1976a. Commentary on David Rubadiri’s Stanley meets Mutesa. A selection of African poetry, 94. New York: Macmillan Press. Senano, K., and T. Vincent, eds. 1976b. Commentary on David Diop’s The vultures. A selection of African poetry, 71. New York: Macmillan Press. Smiley, S. 2010. How Europe underdeveloped Africa (Book review). Mosaic African Studies E-Journal 1 (1): 2. Thiong’o, N.W. 1986. Decolonizing the mind: The politics of language in African literature. Portsmouth: Heinemann Publishing.

Part III Ontological, Epistemological, Ethical, Linguistic, and Aesthetic Issues

Enriching the Knowledge of the Other Through an Epistemology of Intercourse

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Theories of Representation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Cartesian Theory of Representation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Lockean Theory of Representation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Hegel’s Epistemology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Theory of Knowledge as Intercourse . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Ideas, knowledge, and cognitive claims we have about “the other” or “the different” traditionally stem from what can be referred to as mainstream Cartesianism of epistemic duality, an orientation that has primary consideration for subject-object dichotomy, the knower and the known, the I and the thou, and the center and the periphery. In such considerations, what is of the center perceives what is not as an “other.” This disposition about the other constitutes a gap in cognition resulting in poverty of knowledge – knowledge of the other attained from a distance. Furthermore, this condition presents some rigid boundary between episteme (the knowledge) and doxa (the opinions), between the “self” and the “other,” between reality and appearance, between noumena and the phenomena, or between space and time. The present work attempts an alternative epistemology that avoids the impossibility of obtaining genuine knowledge beyond the self, proposing an epistemology of intercourse which alone, I believe, is capable of re-presenting a robust understanding of the entirety of reality (a holistic cognition of reality that is a continuum). According to this proposal, I. E. Ukpokolo (*) Department of Philosophy, University of Ibadan, Ibadan, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected]; [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_9

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“knowledge” is “intercourse.” The knower is subsumed in the known and vice versa. Only then can the knower know the other for what it is and appreciate the non-difference between the knower and the known. This way, a just relationship between the self and the other would evolve. Keywords

Subject-object dichotomy · Cartesianism · Representation · Hegel · Locke · Intercourse

Introduction But in reading great literature, I become a thousand men and yet remain myself. Like the night sky in the Greek poem, I see with myriad eyes, but it is still I who see. Here, as in worship, in love, in moral action, and in knowing, I transcend myself; and I am never more myself than when I do. (Baker 2007: 1)

The arguments and position advanced in this chapter are directed at the thesis of “knowledge as intercourse”: we often grasp what is outside of us in a way that we are able to use such to develop and improve ourselves (Baker 2007: 1). Put differently, we take in the “other” to become a reality within us. Thus understood, the word “knowledge” or the phrase “to know” is considered to consist in a living encounter, an active relationship between the subject and the object of knowledge, between the knower and the world to be known, and between the perceiver and the perceived. There is here an enduring relationship between epistemology and ontology and between knowledge and reality. A characteristic opposition constitutive of a point of departure for this chapter is here referred to as “Cartesianism” (Lawhead 2002: 38). The Cartesian phenomenon was a point of focus when Jurgen Habermas in his expression stated clearly that “If we imagine the philosophical discussions of the modern period reconstructed as a judicial hearing, it would be deciding a single question: how is reliable knowledge possible?” In his X-ray of the history of epistemology, Habermas expresses the view that the term “theory of knowledge” though coined only in the nineteenth century has the subject matter of its retrospective reference denoting the subject of modern philosophy in general. In my own consideration, however, I take it that the subject matter that it retrospectively denotes has been a subject of philosophies since antiquity. Reference here is reserved for the concern of Thales, Anaximander and Anaximenes, Parmenides and Heraclitus, Xenophanes, Plato, and Aristotle – all concerned with the knowledge of reality and the reality of knowledge. With regard to Socrates on knowledge, Aristotle credits Socrates with making two contributions to philosophy: inductive argument and universal definitions. In searching for universal definition, Socrates assumes that particular things can be grouped into certain natural and hence nonarbitrary categories. He further assumed that our universal concepts and definitions both allow us to identify the kind of things something is, as well as to evaluate how well it fulfills its purpose (Lawhead 2002: 38).

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To understand Socrates’ view of the nature of knowledge and how it is to be obtained, it will be important to note that he calls himself “the midwife of ideas” (Aristotle, Metaphysics, 13: 4). A midwife does not bear a baby herself but merely helps another in the labor of bringing a baby to birth. Thus, he claims that he does not have answers or wisdom to give but can help others find the truth within themselves. From this metaphor a conclusion can be drawn. This is that Socrates believed that truth was not something to be found outside of us, through the senses. Rather, we already possessed the truth deep within us and written on our souls. All we need is assistance in discovering the truth within and bring it to the light of day (Lawhead 2002: 39). This Socratic thinking concerning recognition of truth stands related to the position that knowledge is an intercourse. Plato is not left out as a significant contributor to the history of epistemology. For him, the object of knowledge is not of the transient, temporal, appearances of the external world. Rather, knowledge is of indubitable ideas in the world of forms, ideas, and ideals. This world of forms is accessible only to the faculty of the intellect. Thus, characteristic of Plato’s epistemological program is the sharp dichotomy between the subject of knowledge and the object known. Of course, in the external world, what we have available to us are ephemeral, changing poor imitations of the ideal resident in the world of ideas, reachable only by reasons and intellect. There exists therefore, in the scheme of things, a bifurcation between knowledge and opinion, episteme and doxa, or reality and appearance. What is conceivable between knowledge and opinion could only be “unknowableness.” The foregoing represents a prefiguring of Cartesian epistemology that draws a distinction between the “I” and “Thou,” the “ego” and the “world,” or the “self” and the “other.” In these dispositions, a well of difference exist between the center and the periphery, the “one,” and the “other.” And this finds easy representations throughout the length and breadth of modern philosophy.

Theories of Representation An exposition of the modernist agenda will further help in the understanding of the Cartesian and Lockean theories of representation. Early modern philosophers had a twofold agenda. The first was “not to accept any belief unless they could convince themselves of it on their own” (Lawhead 2002: 209). This was occasioned by the fall of Aristotle’s science that cast doubt on his philosophy and on traditions and authority in scholarship. The Aristotelian worldview places the earth at the center of the universe. This view was replaced by the Newtonian worldview that the sun is the center of the universe. Thus, Aristotle’s science was brought into disrepute. Kuhn changed his interest in science to philosophy on his reading of Aristotle’s Physics. He was astonished how wrong Aristotle was in his Physics and wondered: “How could someone who wrote so brilliantly on so many topics be so misguided when it came to physics?” (Horgan 1998: 42). However, interpreted in its own terms, Aristotle’s Physics was not inferior to, but only different from, Newtonian physics (Horgan 1998: 42).

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Second was to find an ideal method upon which to ground knowledge and truth. Rationalism and empiricism emerged as the two prominent methods from the modernist agenda. While rationalists believe that the foundation of knowledge lies in a priori principles innate in the mind, empiricists believe that the foundation of knowledge lies in a posteriori (empirical) principles based on experience. This chapter will now examine in some detail the Cartesian and Lockean theories of representation as they are both good ambassadors of the rationalist and empiricist traditions, respectively.

The Cartesian Theory of Representation Rene Descartes (1596–1650) wrote many works, among which are Discourse on Method (written in French in 1637), Meditations on the First Philosophy (written in Latin in 1641), and The Principles of Philosophy (written in Latin in 1644). His epistemology is well articulated in his first two works: Discourse on Method and Meditations. In Part I of the Discourse on Method, Descartes affirms reason or sense as something essential to all humans and distinguishes humans from brutes (Descartes, [Veitch] trans. 1912: 3–4). Thus he established what he believes is the most natural way to go about any enquiry about the human person. In Part II of the Discourse on Method, he begins his search for a method with which he will explore objective knowledge that can withstand skepticism. He rejects the methods of logic (in philosophy), geometrical analysis, and algebra (in mathematics) for their shortcomings and invents a new method that adopts the advantages of logic, geometry, and algebra (Descartes, [Veitch] trans. 1912: 14–15). This new method is governed by four laws or precepts: (1) to accept as true only that which is presented to the mind “so clearly and distinctly as to exclude all grounds for doubt,” (2) to separate the issues involve into parts, (3) to think systematically from that which is simplest to know to that which is more complex, and (4) to be very critical in analysis so as not to omit anything (Descartes, [Veitch] trans. 1912: 14–15). In Part III of the Discourse on Method, Descartes composes the following three maxims (alongside the four laws or precepts stated above) to guide him in his search for an indubitable foundation for knowledge: first, to obey laws and customs of his country with moderation so as to avoid extremes; second, to be firm and resolute in searching for truth acting in line with what is most probable; and third, to conquer self, rather than the order of the world, for only our thoughts are in our power and therein lies the realization of all desires (Descartes, [Veitch] trans. 1912: 19–22). With the above three maxims, Descartes begins his task of scrutinizing his opinions by travelling to different nations of the world for 9 years. During this period, he interacts with learned persons so as to gather experience and have an informed judgment devoid of parochialism. Armed with experience, Descartes begins his methodic doubt of all he hitherto knew, not like the skeptics “who doubt only that they may doubt and seek nothing beyond uncertainty itself,” but with the design “simply to find ground of assurance, and cast aside the loose earth

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and sand, that I might reach the rock or the clay” (Descartes, [Veitch] trans. 1912: 23). In Part IV, Descartes observes that the thoughts one experiences at wakeful state are similar to those one experiences at dream state. But he has been deceived in the past by sense experiences at wakeful state; and dream experiences, though similar to wakeful experiences, are illusory. Hence, he concludes that wakeful experiences and dream experiences are both illusory and false. From here he comes to realize that he is but thought; and upon this “thought,” the “ego,” he builds his first principle of philosophy: But immediately upon this I observed that, whilst I thus wished to think that all was false, it was absolutely necessary that I, who thus thought, should be somewhat; and as I observed that this truth, I think, hence I am, was so certain and of such evidence that no ground of doubt, however extravagant, could be alleged by the sceptics capable of shaking it, I concluded that I might, without scruple, accept it as the first principle of the philosophy of which I was in search. (Descartes, [Veitch] trans. 1912: 26–27)

Descartes observes that this first principle, I think, hence I am, is true and he is certain of it because it possesses clearness and distinctness. From this first principle, he proceeds to formulate a second principle: “all the things which we very clearly and distinctly conceive are true” (Descartes, [Veitch] trans. 1912: 27). But then he was immediately confronted with the problem of determining rightly what one distinctively conceives. One may delude oneself that one clearly and distinctly conceives something when in actual fact one does not. To resolve this problem, he noticed that his doubt shows that he is not perfect and to know should be a greater perfection than to doubt. Since he knows clearly and distinctly, I think, hence I am, that knowledge (I think, hence I am) could not have come from him (an imperfect doubting being) but from something with a nature more perfect than his (that has the perfection of knowing). And this “something” that possesses this perfection (of knowing) exists, for he, Descartes, could not have been existing alone to produce something perfect. So, the knowledge of some perfection he did not possess (to know that I think, hence I am) shows that there is a necessary perfect being that exists and who bestows some perfection on him. Descartes then proceeds to use the existence of God he has thus established to explain the principle that “all the things which we clearly and distinctly conceive are true.” He argued that since God is a perfect being from whom we obtain all that we possess, then “it follows that our ideas or notions, which to the extent of their clearness and distinctness are real, and proceed from God, must to that extent be true” (Descartes, [Veitch] trans. 1912: 31). Consequently, ideas or notions that contain some falsehood are “confused and obscure” and proceed from our human imperfect nature that is prone to deception (and not from God’s perfect nature). He particularly observed that our senses do deceive us and that our thought in a dream state is not as clear as that of the wakeful state. In Part V, Descartes observes that God has established natural laws and impressed them in our minds; and this is further proven to be so by sufficient reflection. And in Part VI, he incites “men of superior genius” to experiment on his opinions before he commits them to writing with the aim of advancing public interest (Descartes, [Veitch] trans. 1912: 52).

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Descartes second work, Meditations on the First Philosophy, contains an elaborate explanation of his epistemology and the proof of God’s existence and the existence of the soul. In the Dedication of the work, he likens his demonstrations to the certain, long, and difficult demonstrations in geometry and expresses no surprise if some persons find his demonstrations difficult to understand (just as some persons find the demonstrations in geometry difficult to understand) since only few persons are committed to the sincere search for truth (Descartes, [Veitch] trans. 1912: 67–68). And in the Preface of the work, he gives two short replies to two objections to the Discourse on the Method which he later elaborates on in the Meditations. The first objection was limiting the thinking being solely to thought (excluding all other qualities). The second objection was the idea that being more perfect than oneself necessarily implies that such an idea is more perfect than oneself and also that what the idea stands for exists (Descartes, [Veitch] trans. 1912: 71–72).

The Lockean Theory of Representation John Locke (1632–1704) developed his epistemological theory of representation in his work: An Essay Concerning Human Understanding (1690). He begins his essay arguing against the idea of innate principles. The senses, for instance the eyes, bring sensation to us so that we can have some ideas, like that of color. Though there are universally agreed principles that peoples consent to like the law of identity and noncontradiction, these are not innate since they are not found in children and idiots (Locke 1999: 27–31). It is false that reason discovers innate principles or maxims because reason “is nothing else but the faculty of deducing unknown truths from principles or propositions that are already known” (Locke 1999: 31). It is also false that there are innate practical principles, for if there were the principles of “justice, piety, gratitude, equity, chastity” would not have been relative to nations and cultures (Locke 1999: 53). Locke identifies thought as something persons are conscious of; and in thinking, persons make use of ideas. Ideas, therefore, are the objects of thinking. And, assuming the mind to be a blank white paper devoid of all ideas, he asks the question of where all the materials for reason and knowledge come from. “To this I answer, in one word, from experience. In that all our knowledge is founded; and from that it ultimately derives itself” (Locke 1999: 87). Therefore, our observation of external objects, on the one hand, with our reflections on the workings of our mind, on the other hand, “supplies our understandings with all the materials of thinking,” and from these two comes “all the ideas we have, or can naturally have” (Locke 1999: 87). When the working of the mind is reflected on and considered by the soul, it supplies our understandings with ideas (internal senses) like perception, thinking, doubting, believing, reasoning, knowing, willing, and all the different acting of our minds, hence, to the senses (external) belongs “sensation” while that of the workings of the mind (internal sense) is “reflection” (Locke 1999: 87–88). However, the soul can only think when furnished with ideas from the senses. And “by compounding these ideas, and reflecting on its own operations, it increases its stock, as well as

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facility in remembering, imagining, reasoning, and other modes of thinking” (Locke 1999: 99). In Book II, Chap. 2, Locke explains simple and complex ideas. Simple ideas come from sensation and reflection. The senses, for instance, take different ideas from objects; hence sight takes color, while touch takes smoothness or hardness. A simple idea has the characteristics of being “uncompounded, contains in it nothing but one uniform appearance, or conception in the mind, and is not distinguishable into different ideas” (Locke 1999: 102). These simple ideas are stored by the understanding; and the understanding has the power “to repeat, compare, and unite them, even to an almost infinite variety, and so can make at pleasure new complex ideas” (Locke 1999: 102). In Book II, Chap. 8, Locke discusses the primary qualities of objects (figure, number, motion or rest, and solid parts of an object) and the secondary qualities (produced in our senses through the power in objects the qualities of sound, color, taste, smell, and so on). And in Book II, Chap. 12, he further explains how complex ideas are formed. From simple ideas the mind makes or forms complex ideas. The mind passively receives sensations and reflections as simple ideas, and actively does the following three things to the simple ideas it has passively received: (1) Combining several simple ideas into one compound one; and thus all complex ideas are made. (2) The second is bringing two ideas, whether simple or complex, together, and setting them by one another; by which way it gets all its ideas of relations. (3) The third is separating them from all other ideas that accompany them in their real existence: this is called abstraction: and thus all its general ideas are made. (Locke 1999: 147)

From simple and complex ideas, Locke makes a case for knowledge. To avoid the slow progress and endless work of dwelling on particular things, the mind shortens its way to knowledge through contemplation (of things themselves) or conference (with others about them) and create species or classes or types of things. By so doing the mind imputes any knowledge it gets of a particular type, species, or class into all things in that class, species, or type (Locke 1999: 370). Thus men assume their ideas corresponding to things. Since complex ideas and ideas of substances are basically the product of the workings of the mind, they are more liable to falsehood. Furthermore, since the mind has no immediate object of thought or reason apart from simple ideas which is in it through sensation or reflection, then knowledge becomes the output of the workings of the mind. Locke explains this thus: Knowledge is the perception of the agreement or disagreement of two ideas. Knowledge then seems to me to be nothing but the perception of the connexion of an agreement, or disagreement and repugnancy of any of our ideas. In this alone it consists. Where this perception is, there is knowledge, and where it is not, there, though we may fancy, guess, or believe, yet we always come short of knowledge (Locke 1999: 515).

And this agreement or disagreement of ideas that knowledge consists of are in four parts: identity, relation, co-existence or necessary connexion, and real existence. In these four parts lie actual knowledge (Locke 1999: 515–518).

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In Book IV, Chap. 2, Locke discusses the degree or difference in clearness of our knowledge which depends on the different ways the mind perceives the agreement or disagreement of ideas. In this degree of clearness of our knowledge, Locke gives primacy to intuitive knowledge. Here the agreement or disagreement of two ideas is perceived by the mind “immediately by themselves, without the intervention of any other: . . . For in this the mind is at no pains of proving or examining, but perceives the truth as the eye doth light, only by being directed towards it” (Locke 1999: 520–521). Examples of intuitive knowledge are white is not black; a circle is not a triangle; three is made up of the combination of one and two. This intuitive knowledge “is the clearest and most certain that human frailty is capable of” and on it “depends all the certainty and evidence of all our knowledge” (Locke 1999: 521). Next to intuitive knowledge in the degree of clearness is demonstrative knowledge, which is also known as scientific knowledge or reasoning. This knowledge is inferior to intuitive knowledge, although it is very probable. Here the mind perceives the agreement or disagreement of ideas, not intuitively or immediately, but depending on other intervening ideas known as proofs. The mind, through the process of rapt attention, pain, and rigor, follows some steps and slowly makes progress by eliminating initial doubt to arrive at certainty. Intuitive evidence accompanies each of the steps of the entire demonstrative evidence to endorse it. This is the process both for mathematical quantity of number, extension and figure, as well as other forms of demonstrative knowledge (Locke 1999: 521–524). The least in the degree of clearness is sensitive knowledge. This is knowledge of the existence of finite beings that are independent of us. Sensitive knowledge is less certain than that of demonstrative knowledge. We are only intuitively certain that “the idea we receive from an external object is in our minds” (Locke 1999: 527). But of the existence of anything other than the ideas in our minds, or the existence of anything independent of us “which corresponds to that idea” in our minds, we cannot be certain. So, particular external objects exist “by that perception and consciousness we have of the actual entrance of ideas from them” and of them we are least certain (Locke 1999: 528). Furthermore, since knowledge is nothing more than “the perception of the agreement or disagreement of any of our ideas,” then it follows that it cannot extend beyond the ideas that we have or beyond our perceiving their agreement or disagreement via intuition, reason (demonstration), or sensation (of particular things) (Locke 1999: 529). However, since the mind knows things not immediately at first, but through simple sensation, it follows that our knowledge of things “is real only so far as there is conformity between our ideas and the reality of things” (Locke 1999: 554). And, since the mind perceives nothing but its ideas, it also follows that only simple ideas are conformed to things, while complex ideas (except ideas of substance) are archetypes of the mind and may not have any connexion with nature; hence we cannot be infallibly certain of complex ideas (Locke 1999: 555). In addition, while knowledge of our own existence is by intuition derived from our experiences of sensation, thought, doubt, etc., our knowledge of material things is by sensation; and sensual knowledge is inferior to rational knowledge of demonstration (Locke 1999: 611–612). The function of reason is to enlarge our knowledge and regulate our assent in four degrees: the first and the highest is to discover truth;

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the second is to dispose truth methodically; the third is to perceive the connexion of truth; and the fourth is to make right conclusions (Locke 1999: 664–665). In summary, for Locke knowledge is based essentially on experience. It is the perception of the mind of the agreement or disagreement of ideas that come in simple forms of sensation (of the senses) and reflection (of the mind) and made complex by the mind. Intuitive knowledge is the clearest of knowledge for finite persons. From it precedes knowledge of the existence of the self. Demonstrative or scientific knowledge depends on proof (other ideas) and is therefore highly probable. As for knowledge of objects, these are nothing more than ideas of the mind forming a representation of objects whose independent existence from humans we cannot ascertain. However to the extent that these representations mimic those of objects as presented by sensation, to that extent our knowledge of object is true.

Hegel’s Epistemology Immanuel Kant’s reconciliation of the empiricist and rationalist extreme positions was impressive. Yet in the process, he denied man knowledge of the noumena because the human reason is plagued with challenging contradictions when it tries to do so. However, Hegel’s epistemology was an attempt to transcend the limitations placed on the human spirit or mind by Kant’s transcendental idealism into one that resolves the dichotomy between “things as they appear to us” and “things as they are” in absolute knowledge. Here reality becomes “the expression of infinite or absolute thought or consciousness. And when we think or philosophize about reality, this is consciousness becoming aware of itself, that is, becoming infinite” (Moore and Bruder 2002: 130). Hegel’s epistemology does not favor immediate or intuitive knowledge unaided by experience. He rejects faith or knowledge of God based on divine revelation or common sense unmediated via experience. This self-evident, immediate, or intuitive knowledge devoid of experience is the basis of Descartes Cogito, ergo sum upon which he built his epistemology. Hegel explains that immediate knowledge, in its distinctive doctrine, is the view that “immediate knowledge alone, to the total exclusion of mediation, can possess a content which is true” (Hegel 1892: 128). Hegel is strongly of the view that experience is the starting point of knowledge, and this informs his rejection of intuitive or immediate knowledge devoid of experience. Absolute knowledge becomes attainable through a rational experiential process through dialectic. Though he recognizes mathematics, technical expertness, or arts as immediate, they are, nevertheless, tied to mediation because immediate knowledge is produced by mediated knowledge. Also, all immediate proofs of God’s existence, ethical principles, instincts or innate ideas, common sense, and so on are all based on mediated knowledge. This is the essence of education, training, or development. Hegel puts it thus: It is a matter of general experience that education or development is required to bring out into consciousness what is therein contained. It was so with the Platonic reminiscence; and the

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Christian rite of baptism, although a sacrament, involves the additional obligation of a Christian up-bringing. In short, religion and morals, however much they may be faith or immediate knowledge, are still on every side conditioned by the mediating process which is termed development, education, training. (Hegel 1892: 130)

The error of believing that there is immediate knowledge devoid of experience, says Hegel, lies in equating idea with being or equating a capacity (potentiality) in humans with actuality. He explains it this way: The reminiscence of ideas spoken of by Plato is equivalent to saying that ideas implicitly exist in man, instead of being, as the Sophists asserts, a foreign importation into his mind. But to conceive knowledge as reminiscence does not interfere with, or set aside as useless, the development of what is implicit in man: - which development is another word for mediation. The same holds good of the innate ideas that we find in Descartes and the Scotch philosophers. These ideas are only potential in the first instance, and should be looked at as being a sort of mere capacity in man. (Hegel 1892: 132)

In addition, Westphal is of the view that Hegel was the first to attempt an epistemology that unites historical and social aspects of human life with realism (Westphal 2003: 51). Realism, as used by Hegel, has to do with objects with lawlike characteristics that do not depend on us. Also, realism as used by Hegel makes no cognitive distinction between “things as they are” and “things as they appear to be,” and it is accompanied by an ontological holism that is realist in nature (Westphal 2003: 53). Hegel explains this social aspect of knowledge in Chap. 4 of the Phenomenology of Mind. Thus, he grounds philosophy in the empirical sciences. Individual selfconsciousness becomes realizable in conjunction with the self-consciousness of other persons. And, since as individuals we are imperfect, we need the cooperation of others, through education, in attaining complete self-knowledge. One implication of this view of Hegel is that the knowing spirit or mind is grounded on the human community. This comes out clearly in Chap. 6 of the Phenomenology of Spirit.

The Theory of Knowledge as Intercourse According to Richard Tarnas, we saw in the modern period the emergence of a self-conscious and autonomous human being – curious about the world, confident in his own judgment, sceptical of orthodoxies, rebellious against authority, responsible for his own beliefs and actions, enamoured of the classical past but even more committed to a greater future, proud of his humanity, conscious of his distinctness from nature, aware of his artistic powers as individual creator, assured of his intellectual capacity to comprehend and control nature, and all together less dependent on an omnipotent God (Tarnas 1991).

Out of that profound cultural transformation, science emerged as a new faith. The foregoing introduces the reign of modernity – a period characterized by the privileging of one singular, fixed, universal, and grand totalizing framework of reference that is foundational and reliable in relation to which knowledge, truth,

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and reality can be accessed, appraised, and adjudged. This grand theory found expressions in various fields and cultures of human endeavors; and the search for its content and frame was the concern of philosophers and thinkers of the period. Whether in the area of political philosophy or mathematics or physics or ethics, attempts were made to represent such a totalizing framework of reference. Beyond this age, we are greeted with an era of an emergence of a postmodern mind defined by its rejection of everything “Modern” characterized by a nonlinear, organic, or holistic framework of reference. This is in other words, a replacement of the “modern” with a holistic understanding of reality – a holistic cognition as we approach reality in a united epistemic interaction with our reality. By this, we are united with our object of knowledge and united with the “other” which is absorbed into our consciousness. According to this position, to know or to possess the cognition is to have something in the self in its form. In other words, the knower grasps the “forms” of the external thing without the need to be united to it physically. So understood, knowing brings about exercising a power of receiving the “forms” of other things but in the way they are received in nature. The knower has the “forms” of things he knows “immaterially.” Making some distinctions between “forms” of knowing and “forms” of knower, St. Thomas Aquinas argues “plants and those things which are below plants can receive nothing immaterially; and therefore, they are benefit of all knowledge.” Sense receives form without matter but nevertheless with material conditions. But intellect receives forms purified also from material conditions (Questiones Disputatae de Vertate, q.2, a. 2; and cf. a. 3). Put differently, sense is receptive of forms without matter as wax receives the seal of the ring without the iron and the gold. The value of our knowledge therefore is such that through knowledge, human person is giving a remedy for the limitations and poverty of his own beings. St. Thomas again: A thing is perfect in two ways. First, according to the perfection of its own act of existence this pertains to it according to its proper species. But the perfection of each thing considered in itself is imperfect (since it is but) act of the perfection of the whole universe. Therefore, that there be some remedy for this imperfection, there is another mode of perfection in created things, according as the perfection proper to one thing is found in another: this is the perfection of a knower inasmuch as it knows. Because, according as something is known by a knower, the very known is in so way within the knower. And therefore, it is said in the third book of the De Anima that the soul is in a certain manner all things, because it is naturally apt to know all things. And in this way, it is possible that in one thing there should exist the perfection of the whole universe. (Aristotle, DE Anima, III, c.8.)

In all, man, the knower, the perceiver, and the cognizer, is united with what is known because the form of what is known is found in the knower. Indeed knowledge is intercourse.

Conclusion It will be pertinent to state as some concluding remarks are the grounds for the foregoing claim concerning knowledge. It is a legitimate shift from modern science to postmodern science and from Newtonian physics to the science of quanta.

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Quantum mechanics to be sure forced itself upon the scene at the beginning of the twentieth century. No assembly of physicist voted to start a new brand of physics called quantum mechanics. “A quantum is a quantity of something, a specific amount” (Zukav 1980: 10). Mechanics is the study of the motion of quantities. Quantum theory says that nature comes in bit and pieces (Quanta) and includes it. The physics of Newton remains valid within its limit. What this means is that, all that is, consists in some fluidity – energy or energy-like reality to which all belong. The knower and the known are contained as masses of energy interacting in an everliving substantiality. It is in this condition that we have knowledge. The knower exhibit knowledge from the fluidity of its reality; this exhibition of knowledge flows unto the object which is itself a fluidity of reality, since each one of us is energy from head to toe, cognition or knowledge of reality is the emission of force or energy from the knower to the known and vice versa.

References Aristotle, Metaphysics. Baker, M. 2007. The theory of knowledge. St Bartholomew. http://www.superflumina.org/PDF_ files/knowledge.pdf Descartes, R. 1912. A discourse on method, meditations on the first philosophy, principles of philosophy. Trans. J. Veitch, Introd. A.D. Lindsay. London: J. M. Dent & Sons. Hegel, G.W. F. 1892. The Science of Logic. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press Horgan, J. 1998. The end of science: Facing the limits of knowledge in the twilight of the scientific age. London: Abacus. Lawhead, W.F. 2002. The voyage of discovery: A historical introduction to philosophy. 2nd ed. Belmont: Wadsworth/Thomson Learning. Locke, J. 1999. An essay concerning human understanding. Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania State University. Moore, B. N. & Bruder, K. 2002. Philosophy: The power of ideas. Pennsylvania: McGraw-Hill Education Questiones Disputatae de Vertate, q.2, a. 2; and cf. a. 3. Questiones Disputatae de Vertate, q.2, a. 2; the reference is to Aristotle’s work DE Anima, III, c.8. Tarnas, R. 1991. The passion of the Western mind. London: Pimlico. Westphal, K.R. 2003. Hegel’s epistemology: A philosophical introduction to the phenomenology of spirit. Indianapolis: Hacket. Zukav, G. 1980. The dancing Wu li masters: An overview of the new physics. New York: William and Marrow & Company.

African Arts and Difference

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Matthew A. Izibili

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Importance of Signs and Symbols in African Cultures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Institutionalization of Difference with Signs and Symbols . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Names as Symbolic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Concluding Remarks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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In this chapter, I examine the role African art plays in the institutionalization of difference in African traditions. I am particularly interested in how aesthetic signs and symbols or other forms of art are employed by persons of an African culture to differentiate themselves or set themselves apart from other persons within the same culture or other cultures. Such forms of art of interest here include modes of dressing, tribal marks, hairstyles, and nonverbal signs of communication. I assert in this chapter that these aesthetic forms of difference are in some way institutionalized into the fabric of culture that they are taken by members of the society as objective givens and often not subject to questioning. Hence, the othering is sustained and maintained through time. I also argue that these forms of differences sustained through art often promote inequality and preferential treatment of the self over and above the other. A case in mind is the preferential treatment of female folks from the royal family as against those who are not from the royal family, a difference clearly made visible through art. Keywords

Difference · Signs · Symbols · African art · Aesthetics M. A. Izibili (*) Department of Philosophy, Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_10

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Introduction Difference, alterity, and otherness are expressed in various ways such as in forms of ideologies, social representations, attitudes, and actions. But one important way in which difference is expressed and the one separated from the other that is often ignored in the discourse of alterity is art, specifically through artistic signs and symbols. We recall, for instance, the role signs played in racial segregation in the United States and apartheid South Africa. In South Africa, for instance, there were such signs as “For Use by White Persons” in certain public places, signs that were meant to clearly other off black persons and separate whites from blacks. We recall similar signs used by Germans in the 1930s to other Polish persons (e.g., “No entrance for Poles”) and the “Coloured Entrance” reserved solely for AfricanAmericans or blacks in movie theaters in the United States in the 1930s and 1940s. Beyond racial segregation, artistic signs and symbols have played and continue to play crucial roles in social stratification and differentiation in all human societies. From such simple signs and symbols as wearing a ring in the fourth finger with its immediate signaling of marital status, dressing codes, tribal marks, to more complex forms of signs and symbols indicating difference, art has always and continues to play significant role in the unfolding of difference. In this chapter, I explore how this plays out in indigenous African cultures. I explore how signs and symbols or other forms of art are employed by persons of an African culture to differentiate themselves or set themselves apart from other persons within the same culture or other cultures. Such forms of art of interest here include modes of dressing, tribal marks, hairstyles, and nonverbal signs of communication. I assert in this chapter that these aesthetic forms of difference are in some way institutionalized into the fabric of culture that they are taken by members of the society as objective givens and often not subject to questioning. Hence the othering is sustained and maintained through time. I also argue that these forms of differences sustained through art often promote inequality and preferential treatment of the self over and above the other. A case in mind is the preferential treatment of female folks from the royal family as against those who are not from the royal family, a difference clearly made visible through art.

The Importance of Signs and Symbols in African Cultures Signs have its etymological meaning traceable to the word “show” (Blackburn 1996). It represents a visible indication expressed in an object, a meaningful gesture of acceptance or rejection, etc. It takes same meaning as symbols when they assume any of several specialized non-alphabetical posture. Humans have over time developed the competency to communicate quite effectively using signs and symbols; signs and symbols are often used together because they have a common etymology. Symbol is from a Greek word which means sign or token. Signs and symbols are thus something used to represent something else such as an idea or object. It is meant

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as a simplification of something more complex. The complex idea is easily conveyed by means of a sign or symbol. African art consists of different forms of symbols and signs, for example, in the form of either a statue of a deified hero and heroine, mountains and hills, depicting sacredness, choice of colors in dresses, ornaments, and jewelries, for occasions of celebrations or mourning, hairstyles, and revealed signs such as in dreams, the connection between what is presented artistically and the purpose for such among multiplicities of occurrences. Signs and symbols in the light of the above conceptualization are seen in the concern of many social anthropologists in their interpretations of symbols, particularly the public use of symbols aimed at separating them from another group in the community. Among the different peoples of Africa, symbols have been used publicly in several ways such as in religious or social activities and rituals. Hence, it is correct to assert that there is always a symbolizing function of the human mind. Hence, religion, science, art, myth, dreams, and, of course, rituals have symbols that are manifestations of the human mind (Nabofa 1994). There has been some level of identifiable symbols and their forms and functions which often bear religious undertone than social or aesthetic ones only. Again, such symbols play or deal with the multiplicity of meanings which the said symbols convey in African traditional societies even with some areas of differences. Man uniquely occupies the pride of place with the capacity to reflect on his experience and express same with symbols and signs which is a confirmation of the part of the divine consciousness within every human being as advanced by the theists. This ability to symbolize and use signs distinguishes man from all other living things in either the animal or vegetable kingdom. In most African cultures, signs and symbols that express sacredness are places of God’s special manifestations. For instance, fire is taken to be a special sign of divine presence, which even among some tribes symbolizes national life (Izibili 2014). Since art is a vivid or concrete expression of the ideas concealed in our minds (Isiuwa et al. 2015), African arts depict philosophies, religions, conventions, values, and general way of life often expressed in symbolic ways. They are usually geographically diversified showing difference(s) from one location and another.

The Institutionalization of Difference with Signs and Symbols Among the Benin (Bini) people of Southern Nigeria, artistic signs and symbols play important roles in differentiating one category of person from the other. Such Benin art is done in terra-cotta, wood, bronze, brass, stones, corals, and ivory. These arts were mainly of two major types: the court art and the folk art. While the court arts were mainly for royalty and royal-related rituals as well as deal with the decoration and glorification of the monarch (Oba) in a way to serve as historical documents of the art style of the Benin ancestry, (Ibid.) others do not serve the same definite purpose(s).

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Till date, there abound many bronze plaques elaborately decorated for wall hangings symbolizing fame and relevance. The visiting tourists see them differently. Either they are regarded as religious emblems, ideograms, icons, rituals or songs, prayers, myths, incantations, customary behavior, and personifications. (An interview with Pa. Otuokpaiwoh Young Okhueleigbe, (c. 65), Inemen Ugboha, 2004.) Most of the works were carved with wood although there is still terra-cotta and iron forms of carving. The heads of Benin royalties are usually lavishly decorated with piles of necklaces made with coral beads; there were also head dresses elaborately decorated, and sometimes the figure holds long elephant tusks as a sign of dignity. Hence each of these symbolic arts was used to signify the difference of one group from another. For instance, among the Esan people of Southern Nigeria, the coming of a newborn baby into the family is symbolized by the biological mother, mother(s)-in-law, and other very close relatives (usually female) by the color of the ladies necklace worn at that period. It is usually a sharp redcolored neck beads. In the alternative is the sign of pronounced white chalk (Orhue) dots on the forehead and besides the two eyes. The number of children given birth to at a time, for example, twins, is marked out by two dots on the forehead as well as the sides of both eyes. Anyone who sees such signs and symbols, with the understanding of what such represents, congratulates the woman that adorn herself with such (Ibid.). The above forms of otherness may make no serious meaning to anyone outside the Benin or Esan cultural milieu. The reason is due to differences in social cum conceptual scheme. It is a truism, for instance, that although there is much to be said about how women are treated in many African indigenous cultures with the ensuing issues of sexism; discrimination; unhealthy widowhood rites; human rights issues as regards, for example, the rights of inheritance; and so on, persons within African communities know that women from the royal family would not undergo the same sort of treatment that other women undergo. Modes of dressing, tribal marks, and hairstyles are simple but effective signs and symbols that would easily distinguish the women of the royal family from other women, a distinction that prevents them from undergoing the same sort of treatment that other women in the community will undergo. Philosophical themes like determinism, freewillism, and fatalism also surface in African beliefs in lucks and destiny which are also expressed in signs and symbols. As an Esan by birth, I grew up to find out that there are different interpretations of discoverable signs, symbols, and natural occurrences. For example, the itching of one’s right hand palm symbolizes the coming of financial gifts, while if it is the left hand, it represents bad omen and such calls for prayers for such to be diverted. The accidental hitting of one’s leg (though not seen as accidental ab initio be it right or left leg) depicts different things. If it is the right foot, it symbolizes something worth rejoicing for is on the way. If it is the left foot, it represents bad omen and some steps of caution are immediately suggested to avert it. This interpretation is not unconnected with the acceptance of patriarchal authority in most African societies: hence right symbolizes what is male and good, and left symbolizes what is female and bad, respectively.

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In other cultures, this may not be the case because it varies from place to place. Interestingly, the show of lightning and thunder is interpreted and received differently by people and cultures. The spontaneous kiss advanced to the strike of lightning is only a sign of total reverence and loyalty in some African cultures. Still on reverence and worship of the supreme, there are different signs and symbols that represent different faiths. For example, the crucifix stands for the Christian faith; the moon crescent stands for Islamic faith; and African traditional religion is represented with any of the following: tree, iron, color combination, statue, etc. The simple sighting of any of the above listed examples (signs and symbols) helps easily to identify what one sign or symbol means from the other. The same thing goes with color selection (Ibid.). Meanwhile, in some cultures even in Africa, black dresses and ornaments are meant mainly for mourning. Others put on white dresses when they are bereaved. In Esan of Southwestern Nigeria, for example, both dresses could be used during the loss of a dear one, but it is age dependent. If a young person dies below the age of 70 years, black apparel are worn during the mourning period. It is the person that is above 70 years whose children and relations put on white except the spouse (the chief mourner). In spite of the noticed differences in either the religious signs or symbols, they are all unique in themselves and well appreciated by the observers of same. Others who may see it differently do not have reason(s) to look down on them or superintend over them either ways. In throwing more light on what a symbol is, Charles Morris description comes handy. He said that a sign is produced by interpreter and acts as a substitute for some other signs for which it is synonymous; and the example that is most appropriate is the wearing of black dress by a widow or some other bereaved person as being symbol or some other signs or mourning such as weeping (Omijeh 1993). Carl Gustav Jung has this to say in support of symbolic marks, that man uses the spoken word to express the meaning of what he wants to convey. Hence, man’s language to him is full of symbols but that he also uses signs or images often that may not be, in the strict sense, descriptive. Some may be mere abbreviations or strings or initials. For instance, UN, UNICEF, or UNESCO may be meaningless in themselves; but they have acquired recognizable meanings through common usage or deliberate intention. On a closer examination, such things may not be symbols strictly speaking. Rather, they are signs because they do no more that denote the objects to which they are attached. He then went on to give the following as his definition of a symbol that is truly symbolic: What we call a symbol is a term, a name or even a picture that may be familiar in daily life, yet that possesses specific connotations in addition to its conventional and obvious meaning. It implies something vague, unknown or hidden from us. . . thus, a word or an image is symbolic when it implies something more than its obvious and immediate meaning. It has a wider “unconscious” aspect that is never precisely defined or fully explained. Nor can one hope to define or explain it. As the mind explores the symbol, it is led to ideas that lie beyond the grasp of person (Ibid.).

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Further investigations on dressing codes and varieties led me to the Ugboha people of Esan Southeast LGA of Edo State Nigeria where I discovered that the men had two forms of dressing. One consisted of a sizeable native cloth of three pieces sewn together (Igbulu ododo) and is usually thrown across the body, over the left shoulder, like a toga. There is yet a smaller piece of cloth tied tightly at the back. The more elderly men wore a soft cloth cap and place neatly on the left shoulder an Izakpa made from a teased leather or a cow’s tail. For an Onojie or a chief (Okhaemhon), a long coral beads necklace is worn. For the men who are not well placed, this dress is not to be worn by them, thereby separating one from the other even among people of the same ancestry. The second and simpler mode of dress consisted of yards of cloth around the waist, leaving the chest bare or a spaced-woven singlet popularly called see me. This was the Ubunuku which long ago went out of fashion like the woman’s one-piece dress consisting of a cloth tied around the breasts and extending to just above the ankles (a woman’s rapper is two-piece, while a man’s consists of three pieces). It is noteworthy here to state that Ugboha people have never felt restrained or culture bound by fashion; they have always imitated any dress of any visitor or of any ethnic group that they liked without losing sight of their own traditional attires. To this end, young boys and girls up to the age of puberty wore nothing. Alli posits that this practice justifies that those who are pure in heart have nothing to hide and as men admire beautiful flowers, often plucking them to bring home, these young beautiful damsels attracted all lovers of beauty. Girls wore many strings of highly inflammable beads, called akpono around their waists. These akpono was primarily aimed at covering the young ladies front private part in the absence or not enough clothing meant for growing girls then (Alli 2011). The above-described dressing pattern is traditional of the adult male and female in Ugboha which may not be same with others even within Esan kingdoms or communities. It is aesthetically beautiful and well appreciated by those that recognized the artistic relevance of the attire in totality. But for the others, they may not place any value on the same outfit, and even if this becomes the case, it does not in any way make the attire less valuable. A priest or priestess (Ohen) is known by their dress and look. Some will either tie a shining chain around the left leg or put a feather of a certain bird on their hair or a ring on their hair. Some will rub white chalk around one or both eyes for easy identification. The Western religious priests may have their garments differently sown for the spelt out purpose. Yet, it is and should be accepted as the others accepted style of a priest’s dress and nothing else. To this end, it is quite suggestive of the obvious fact that none need to see others’ outlook as less important. Traditional makeup materials are called ikpododo (gotten from a specific plant that produces flower that is found in the bush). It is used only on the face, while for the fingernails, Ilele leaves are thoroughly mashed and rubbed on the fingers; allowed to stay for some time; and, thereafter, washed with clean water, and the color it leaves on the palm and fingernails is awesome to behold. The difference in the said makeup material and others as used today bearing different names like Mary Kay is only about the other side of the same practice. Hence, it simply fulfills the

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philosophy of difference succinctly put. However, the user of Mary Kay products should not for any reason feel superior over and above the user of the traditional perhaps, not processed Ilele as explained above. As part of dressing, there are kinds of hairdos interpreted to represent different personalities in most African communities like Esan of Edo Central Senatorial district. This depends largely on the age, sex, and occasion to be attended. It is historically recorded as reported by Okojie (1960) that men of noble birth till about the nineteenth century plaited their hair. For those who are priests to the traditional divinities, their hair is usually long coils, and they are called Ogbihiagha, while those above middle age shaved their entire scalp except a small island left on the occipital area (back of the head) which was plaited and a special bead called Ekan tied to it. For the women, occasion spells out what hairstyle they take. There is the hairdo for women who are on traditional maternity leave (Eto omon), another for those that are bereaved of their husband, etc. It is traditionally unacceptable for a woman whose husband is still alive to shave her hair. In cases of ill health, the husband must touch the hair before it is shaved by an assigned hand. If the husband is late, a relation of the husband needed to be consulted. The palace chiefs also have their haircut style, and it distinguishes them from others who may not be chiefs. In some African cultures, the wearing of tribal marks has become institutionalized. While some are forms of traditional immunization either against the known child killer diseases or basically for general protection, by the time incision gets healed, the scars are left to become pronounced marks. There are yet family tribal marks that help to differentiate the family from others at a glance. Some are found in most royal families in Africa. The royal family of the Ogiirua kingdom in Esan Central Senatorial district of Edo State Nigeria, until recently, has a special facial mark that stands them out among others in the kingdom. The same thing is noticed among cult groups or religious sets. The Reformed Ogboni Confraternity among the Yorubas of Western Nigeria respects the symbol of three finger-like strokes once it is shown by a member. In some other cultures, the symbol of two fingers pointed out at another person represents something different from that which is commonly traceable to a confraternity (Ogboni) in Yoruba society.

Names as Symbolic Most African communities are avid inventors of names. Names and naming ceremonies in such societies serve multiple purposes ranging from psychotherapy, repository of history, lass distinction, as well as a medium of sustaining values among the people. To a large extent, our identity has a way of relieving distress, change behavior, belief, and our views about the world in general. Primarily, name is a means of identity; it is also an expression of self, feelings, and the situation of a man, who realizes he has either made great success of his life to the poor, frustrated and self-pity, or he is in a world of his own entirety. It is not in doubt that as humans, we are constantly faced with daily hassles, as they attempt to meet with the demand of life (Idiakheua and Izibili 2012).

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Efforts to resolve this demand lead to use of names to reflect their victory or mastery of demands, thus serving as a therapy. This psychotherapy is usually selfadministered and is directed at bringing about healing, succor, buffer, hope, and restoration to the individual, usually the caller, the called, and the hearer, who may put into the good use leading to the self-fulfilling prophesy, thus bringing about a cleansing, restoring, and healing effect on the called, the caller (one who calls the name), and the hearer (people present in the premises). There is usually an ethical and psychological understanding of names in Africa. In construction of names in Africa, the namer’s position, family status, and personal standing in the community must be carefully taken into account; otherwise one could get himself, the child, and family into ridicule. Thus it would be ridiculous for a poor man with just one wife and one child to name such a child Adesua (a child born into the middle of wealth!) or an ordinary man in the village naming his son Imadojiemun (I did not steal the crown). So would be a man naming his daughter Odijie (I have now perpetuated my family, when he knows the girl would be married out of the village). Okojie (n.d.) in his book entitled What’s in a Name? tried to explain the meaning of Esan names. In his words, to an Esan – everything- from the feelings of a man who realizes he has made a monumental success of his life to the frustration and self-pity of the man who has found himself an epoch making disaster! Between these two extremes lie all human desires, prayers, experiences, frustrations, gratitude, hatred and love! When one listens to the names of a family being introduced to you and in a moment you will have a good insight into the family history. From a man who has faced series of battles in life and recorded some level of success, may give the name, Aikhuemelo – “they ought to know by now, they (the world) cannot make me disappear or destroy me.”

Names are characterized by time, events, and situations; it is a reflection of one’s culture, which is a way of life, and its understanding is required to understand the individual. Africans do not give abstract names or just any names like the English with Mr. Green, Brown, Zinc, Wood, etc. Unfortunately, our people have bent toward the West as though their names are superior to ours as Africans. Instead of names like Ivie, Omonkhafe, Eizighode, etc., for a girl child, what we hear now are names like Tessy, Cynthia, Tina, Tashia, etc. especially at baptism which came with the Christianity. Regrettably, no matter how long an English man lives with us in Africa, none will give his child an African name for whatever reason. By extension, names have biological significance, for example, Owobu is a child that is born with the placenta around his/her neck. The social roles of names also abound, for example, Akomu, Anegbemu, meaning if we cooperate, the task of life will be easier, signifying the fact that we are born into a social network, which should give us social network and the needed social support in life. This understanding would further relate to question which the Almighty God asked Cain: where is thy brother? As recorded even in the Bible. His question presupposed the duty he Cain owed to have kept his brother’s welfare. There is also the psychological function of names in Ugboha. Names like Ehikioya and Osekioya meaning it is God that wipes

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one’s shame or pain have the potency to cushion the emotional pains that may have been faced by the giver or caller of such names. Hence, a name can be healing and cleansing, thus bringing pacification to the called, caller, and hearer. Ameikpoya (water cannot cleanse the tears of life) comes handy (Izibili 2009). There is a kind of prominence given to names that are children centered. This is the case in most African societies. For example, in Ugboha kingdom of Edo Central Senatorial zone of Nigeria where the philosophy of Omonakhuana (we live for children) is held sway, this thought system is held with some level of seriousness. This becomes very pronounced in the names that are given among the people. It is not therefore surprising to see names like Omonon meaning this is a child, Omonaka meaning it is children we count, Omongenfe meaning it is a child that hails wealth, and Omonaghe meaning we are looking at children. For the purpose of releasing emotions like anger, we have names like Omonhan, Omogbohu, Omonzele, and Iranmhudomon, meaning child quells anger; these names are used in settling the ongoing crises, hassles, and face-off between husband and wife and brothers- or sisters-in-law. It is worthy to remember that the presence of children also drives away loneliness. Ekiomonado, meaning we are in business for children, is important to realize that children constitute the bulk of reason for marriage among Africans and this is not to be in some other societies outside Africa. This understanding of marriage queries the companionship role that is usually promoted in Western world. There are other names like Ekaniyere, Iyere, Amiegbebhor, Arene, Ainegbotor, etc. that are event determined. For the sustenance of precedence, names like Ainetor, Iyi, Aigbadon, Eigbadon, Aigbodion, etc. are commonly given to male children in Ugboha. For those who experienced delay in childbearing, names like Imonikhe, Imhonbighe, Osebuohien, Ikpefua, Amiebaho, Odigie, Iribhogbe, Oriere, symbolizes the pain, troubles and hopes that suchen and women hoping to have children of their own have. Others like Otuokpaikhian, Otuokpaiwoh, Oriabure, and Usunobun speak of different experiences of the parents of such children. There are genderspecific names like Omonukpon, Isibhakhomhen, Ekeleoseya, Ekenomhenifu, Aisuegbeihien, Otatade, Ekhoeluele, etc. Unuareyokpa, Aifabhunuagbon, Agbonizebeta, etc. are consolatory. There are names that represent royalty, for example, Abiojiega, Aidenojie, Ojieiriaikhi, Ojiemhonekele, Ojieiyokan, Ojieabulu, Okojie, Aizebeojie, Inegbenojie, etc. These royalty-related names are exclusively reserved for those with the “royal blood.” Such names have a way of assuming superiority status on the bearers. This unnecessary assumption is what this chapter is out to address. There is what one might call geographical names which tell one where and in what circumstance the child was born. For example, Oduaki, or Okoeki, is the name for a female or a male child born on the way to or in the market. Okoawo, Okouruwa, Okoinemen, Okouromhun, Okoeguae, etc. are given to boys born in Awo, Uruwa, Inemen, Uronmhun, and Eguare, respectively. Besides, those born in a foreign land which we succinctly call, Isi, may have names like Isimenmen for male (may foreign land be good for me), Isibhakhomhen (the foreign land has not been bad for me) for

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female, or Isikhuemhen (I am grateful to the foreigner that accommodated me so well) (unisex) (Izibili 2017).

Concluding Remarks In this chapter, I have examined the role African art play in the institutionalization of difference in the African traditions. I have been particularly interested in how aesthetic signs and symbols or other forms of art are employed by persons of an African culture or other cultures. Such forms of art of interest taken up for examination here include modes of dressing and selected occasions or events for which the individual gets dressed up, tribal marks, and others which may have resulted from traditional immunization, (There are traditional ways of immunizing children in most African societies. It usually involves incision of the body, whether on the forehead, or back of the hand and when it gets healed, the marks remained indelible and people mistakes such for tribal mark.) hairstyles, and nonverbal communication. I opined in this chapter that these aesthetic forms of difference are in some way institutionalized into the fabric of culture that they are taken by members of the society as objective givens and often not subject to questioning. One side of this process of classification, the institutionalization of “high culture,” and the creation of distinctly high cultural organizations stirred up my reflections. What I chose to regard as “high culture” could be defined only in opposition to popular culture; it is the process by which urban elites forged an institutional system embodying their ideas about the high arts that had engaged us here (DiMaggio 1991). Hence, the othering is sustained and maintained through time. I have also argued that these forms of differences sustained through art often promote inequality and most times preferential treatment of the self over and above the other. A case in mind is the preferential treatment of children born into royalty even from the carefully reserved names for them as against those who are not from the royal family, a difference clearly made visible through art. What becomes obvious from the above discourse is that difference can be subtly institutionalized through signs and symbols, so subtle that we accept such difference without questioning. This isn’t such a bad thing as difference is not necessarily to be seen negatively. A positive approach to difference may help in using signs and symbols to promote difference in a way that dignifies the different. But it seems much needs to be done in this regard as the reverse has often been the case: the use of signs and symbols to effectively suppress the different.

References Alli, P.O. 2011. Esan Cosmology and its effects on the social behaviour of the people: Bringing all things under Christ, 26–30. Lagos: Deocraft Comm. Blackburn, S. 1996. Oxford dictionary of philosophy, 335. Oxford: Oxford University Press. DiMaggio, P. 1991. Cultural entrepreneurship in nineteenth-century Boston: The creation of an organizational base for high culture in America. In Rethinking popular culture: Contemporary

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perspectives in cultural studies, ed. C. Mukerji and M. Schudson, 375. Oxford: University of California Press. Idiakheua, E.O., and M. A. Izibili. 2012. Indigenous psychotherapy and virtue promotion: Use of name among Esan people. In Esan people: Our culture, our faith, vol. 1, ed. Matthew Ihesekhien, 204–216, Uhiele Ekpoma: A publication of Seminary of All Saints Major Seminary. Isiuwa, J., G. Usman, E. Okunneye, et al. 2015. Cultural and creative arts for secondary schools, 1–6. Ibadan: Seagroove Pub. Izibili, M.A. 2014. Philosophy of arts & literature: A concise text, 63. Port Harcourt: Josemaria Prints. Izibili, M.A. 2017. Ugboha Native Laws and Customs and the challenges of the 21st century, 26. Benin City: Optima Press. Izibili, M.A. 2009. The Revival we need, 103–120. Benin City: Lucosem Publishing House. Nabofa, M.Y. 1994. Symbolism in African Traditional Religion, 4. Nigeria: Paperback. Okojie, C.G. 1960. Ishan native laws and customs, 384. Lagos: John Okwesan and Co. Okojie, C.G. n.d. What’s in a name, 8. Lagos: MAO Pub. Omijeh, M. 1993. The significance of Orhue in Bini Symbolisms. In Traditional religion in West Africa, ed. A.E. Adegbola Ade, 195. Ibadan: Daystar Press.

Difference in African Educational Contexts

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Philosophy’s Hopeful Gaze . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Critical Theory as Eye-Opener . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Positionality: Focusing on Personal Preparation for Sensitivity to Difference . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Multiculturalism to Make Seeing Believing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Educational institutions pull together students of different genders, abilities, races, classes, and religions and are the microcosm of their communities. In African contexts, schools have been the location of “cultural parochialism” and “colonial epistemicide and the consolidation of colonization” (Lebakeng et al. 72, 2006). Thus, an additional dimension of difference drawn along the fallacious line of the superior dominant Eurowestern colonizer versus the inferior indigenous African population has been institutionalized within the educational system. I engage in a philosophical examination of the African context of difference in the sphere of education. I consider the hopeful gaze philosophy offers in the light of difference, by considering the concept of pluralism, and argue for a view of difference that is both inclusive and appreciative of diversity and suggests ways educators can critically assess their own differences by considering their positionality. I conclude by applying the philosophical outlook that embraces pluralism to our classroom spaces and suggests multicultural theory that embraces difference by including both dominant and marginalized educators to impact education in an efficacious way. Y. Freter (*) Theory and Practice in Teacher Education, University of Tennessee, Knoxville, TN, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_27

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Keywords

Philosophy of education · Positionality · Pluralism · Multiculturalism · Critical theory

Introduction Educational institutions by their very nature are locations of difference. They pull together students of different genders, abilities, races, classes, and religions. They are a microcosm of the communities they service, for good or bad. In African contexts, schools have been the location of “cultural parochialism” and “colonial epistemicide and the consolidation of colonization” (Lebakeng et al. 2006, 72); thus an additional dimension of difference drawn along the fallacious line of the alleged superior dominant Eurowestern colonizer versus the alleged inferior indigenous African population was institutionalized within the educational system. From my experience of being a student during school integration in South Africa and now a scholar of education who locates my work at the nexus of theory and practice, I propose ways students and educators could consider new possibilities by knowing themselves and others through cooperative engagement in their learning spaces and developing awareness of those who have been marginalized (see Waghid 2014, 1). In this chapter, building on my earlier theoretical investigation (Un) Packing Your Backpack: Educational Philosophy, Positionality, and Pedagogical Praxis (2012), I want to contribute to a conception of a philosophy of education that seeks to transform and empower communities for the sake of their own development so that school spaces can foster inclusion and appreciation of difference and address, rather than perpetuate, the challenges faced in the African context. This is described by Yusef Waghid as “developing a conception of education that can contribute towards imagination, deliberation and responsibility – actions that can help towards enhancing justice in educative relations, specifically in relation to African education” (Waghid 2014, 1). Waghid’s egalitarian approach offers a way to balance the recentering of indigenous philosophy while welcoming the “rich contributions from knowledge . . .developed elsewhere” (Waghid 2014, 3). This allows me, as a white African living in the United States, to channel my privileges for the sake of “achieving moral goods internal to the life experiences of Africans” (Waghid 2014, 8). I attest to Kai Horsthemke’s challenge that philosophers of education, and indeed all philosophers, should feel the responsibility to consider the “philosophical concepts and arguments that are generated by educational policy and practice and consideration of (or reflection on) not only the nature, aims, and problems of education but also particular cases” (Horsthemke 2017, 686) instead of looking to apply universal principles. Waghid describes this approach as a philosophy of education that is more a means of inquiry and less a disseminator of objective truths (see Waghid 2014, 5). This kind of inquiry allows focused analysis of particular phenomena, such as the philosophical examination of the African context of difference in school spaces that I will consider in this chapter possible.

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I begin in the first section by envisioning the hopeful gaze philosophy offers in terms of difference by considering the work of Maxine Greene and her concept of pluralism (see Greene 1993, 13–18). I will argue for a view of difference that is both inclusive and appreciative of diversity and suggest ways educators can critically assess their own differences through considering their positionality. I will conclude by applying the philosophical outlook that embraces pluralism to our classroom spaces by suggesting a multicultural theory that can harness difference and impact education in an efficacious way. As James Banks states: The multicultural classroom is a forum of multiple voices and perspectives. The voices of the teacher, of the textbook, of mainstream and transformative authors – and of the students. . .. Teachers can share their cultural experiences and interpretations of events as a way to motivate students to share theirs. . ..[T]hey should examine their racial and ethical attitudes toward diverse groups before engaging in cultural sharing. A democratic classroom atmosphere must also be created. The students must view the classroom as a forum where multiple perspectives are valued. An open and democratic classroom will enable students to acquire the skills and abilities they need to examine conflicting knowledge claims and perspectives. Students must become critical consumers of knowledge as well as knowledge producers if they are to acquire the understandings and skills needed to function in the complex and diverse world of tomorrow. Only a broad and liberal multicultural education can prepare them for that world. (Banks 1993, 12)

Philosophy’s Hopeful Gaze As a philosopher of education, I seek to traverse the divide between positivist scientific research that seeks to determine facts that can be proved, disproved, verified, quantified, and replicated, and the metaphysical, abstract theory of “pure” philosophy for my practices seeks to link conceptual work to educational application (see Thayer-Bacon and Moyer 2006, 141–142). This approach affords me the license to consider what is and what should be and “try to make the case for what is the best, the right, the good, the beautiful, the fair and just, the true” (Thayer-Bacon and Moyer 2006, 143). In this hopeful vein, Maxine Greene asserts in her philosophical paper “The Passions of Pluralism: Multiculturalism and the Expanding Community” (see Greene 1993) that the answer to the challenge of shaping a common public culture amid differences is pluralism and multiplicity. Through passions, engagements, and imagining, Greene wants to find a way of referring to an expanding community that is made up of diverse people speaking as who and not what they are, whom come together in speech and action to constitute something common among themselves with openness despite distinct perspectives. It is worth considering that in a postcolonial African context, perhaps a new common ground might be imagined, one that moves beyond domination or reconciliation and onto a way of being in community as yet uncharted. She describes this as a community attending to difference, while being open to plurality, defining plurality as the shared experience of being human among humans that are each entirely unique. Greene acknowledges

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the challenge to confront pluralism and multiplicity in the face of incredible diversities and the need for a common public culture that is inclusive. She addresses the multiple concerns regarding pluralism, such as the discomfort that many feel regarding relativism, the subversion of authority, and the desire for a coherent heritage. But despite these challenges, consideration of Greene’s philosophical outlook causes us to see that a classroom could be the locus for continuous and authentic interactions, whereby categorizing and distancing can be challenged and the marginalization of the other reduced and their inclusion expanded. Greene’s argument for pluralism and multiplicity implies that our classrooms need to be inclusive, both epistemologically and pedagogically, that means incorporating the knowledge and learning styles of those who have been historically underrepresented, discriminated against, or dominated in some way. It also means including one’s own culture as cherished but not absolutized (as this impedes one’s understanding of other ways of thinking and doing). Greene conveys that via conversation with others, education might be an invitation into the dialogue where we learn to determine voices and their context. Greene hopes for an ongoing dialogue of people with distinct perspectives who are open to others. To remedy the invisibility of some voices, Greene recommends openness and inclusiveness, not the replacing of domination with another. In attempting to draw in marginalized groups, efforts should be made to move beyond defining people by the oppression or discrimination they have faced. Injustice should move us to imagine things as they could be so we go beyond where we are to a better future. Greene suggests that learning through multiple perspectives advances pluralism by building bridges and attending to human stories, resulting in healing and transformation. The challenge is to make sure that the power structures already in position do not eclipse or dominate marginalized voices. This is a difficult dance for the teacher. Power manifest in a teacher’s authority needs to be utilized in a positive way to protect class community members from hearing “inflexible proclamations” that harm other community members (Applebaum 2003, 161). Silencing and censorship seem incongruent to inclusivity, but are at times necessary. For example, in one of my classes where students engage in critical texts and analyze an author’s rhetorical strategies, I have students complete journal responses, whereby they employ their own argumentative devices to put forth their views. When it comes to sharing, I use an online device that randomly selects a student to present their argument. However, because I want the classroom to be as democratic and student-focused as possible, students have the right to pass on their opportunity to share. Two young men began to dominate our times of sharing with their polemical political views. The young women especially were often passing on their turns to these men as the class found their bombastic approaches comical. However, as an instructor, I eventually intervened. Albeit seemingly willingly, the class had yielded their voices to two strong-willed men, and this had limited inclusion and diversity of viewpoints, and I had to censor these two students, by limiting their time to share, for the sake of class community inclusion, healing, and transformation. The ideal, however, remains that as a community attentive to difference and open to the ideal of pluralism, appreciating the life affirming good

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of diversity is Greene’s answer to the problems of conformity, individualism, and the need to maintain the integrity of voices. Although we cannot predict all the possibilities or provide an objective ground for hope, by speaking about justice, caring, love, and trust, Greene hopes that democratic pluralism will be championed. Greene recommends extending the reference of “us” as far as we can through creation of classrooms that are just and caring, full of various conceptions of the good, inclusive of many voices, where human solidarity is expressed in concern for others, friendship, and demonstrate consciousness of worth and possibility. Encouraged by Greene to extend the reference of “us” in just and caring classrooms, teachers are called to establish class environments that are fair, care for the students, and where differing opinions and values are elicited, explored, and encouraged. In applying Greene’s work, I suggest teachers would need to provide opportunities for dialogue involving as many voices as possible, such as living people, historical figures, or literary characters, and create situations or act on situations that cause students to engage in exchange of ideas. Codes of conduct in such dialogues, modeling and encouraging concern for others and consciousness of worth, would need to be instituted. This may take the form of mentoring, facilitating peer groups, social activism, community service, and school programs. For example, each class group I teach, I facilitate their selecting a project to work on. I make broad suggestions and then leave the room and let the class decide what and how they will implement their activism or service. This fosters intrinsic motivation, community belongingness, and other-focus, be it hosting birthday celebrations for each other or collecting money for the drilling of wells. Additionally, community members need to support educative endeavors that support pluralism, such as community roundtables, cultural awareness programs, neighborhood forums, and settings designed to encourage dialogue. Cultural awareness would need to be increased and fostered on the commonalities and differences in cultural groups and encourage diversity. Multicultural focuses in communities, schools, and government would need to be directed toward inclusion. Schools would need to demonstrate inclusiveness in hiring, encourage authentic interactions with diverse students through caring classrooms, and educate regarding culture with the goal to break down barriers and dismantle stereotypes.

Critical Theory as Eye-Opener With the hopeful gaze of Greene’s philosophical scholarship as a means to “advance educational practice,” (Thayer-Bacon and Moyer 2006, 141) I now turn to critique to further our discussion of difference in African educational contexts. The call to end oppression in the school setting requires appreciation of the critical theory that is often infused within these ideas. I am referring to critical theory in the general sense, namely, a philosophical approach that forms the basis of my inquiry that has an explicitly social justice and action-based goal (see Bohman 2016). Critical theory, especially when it intersects education and critical pedagogy (see Kincheloe and Steinberg 1998, 24), is woven into philosophy of education, the idea of positionality,

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and the concept of multicultural education that I am espousing and informs these disciplinary fields in nuanced and differing iterations. For example, multicultural education scholar Geneva Gay has noted the “ideological, conceptual, and operational parallels between multicultural education and critical pedagogy,” as they relate to “issues of educational access, equity, and excelling in a culturally pluralistic society and world” (1995, 155). Gay describes multiculturalism and critical theory as both philosophies and methodologies that adhere to the ideals of “personal liberation, critical democracy, and social equality and an acceptance of the political and partisan knowledge, human learning, and the educational process” (1995, 156). Critical theory supports a mindset that “promotes criticism in the search for quality education” and enables “critique in order to forge alternative and less oppressive social arrangements” (Leonardo 2004, 11). This is an especially necessary tool for dominant culture members, such as myself, to come to understand how domination and oppression occur and how social systems influence individual experiences and vice versa (see Leonardo 2004, 11). Additionally, critical theory focuses on how domination occurs and does the work of stimulating “an individual’s consciousness of himself or herself as a social being” (Kincheloe and Steinberg 1998, 23). In my high school and university courses, I often incorporate autobiography and personal narrative as a means to connect students to the material in a personal way. Learning encounters are consequently much more engaging and transformative for students as the theory illuminates and impacts their own experiences. Conversely, I provide activities for students to imagine things beyond their experiences, such as writing from the perspective of someone of another race, social class, or gender based on their scholarly readings of experiences of these “others.” As critical multiculturalists Kincheloe and Steinberg explain: An individual who has gained such a consciousness understands how and why his or her political opinions, socio-economic class, role, religious beliefs, gender role and racial selfimage are shaped by dominant perspectives. Critical theory thus promotes self-reflection that results in changes of perspective. Men and women come to know themselves by bringing to consciousness the process by which their view points were formed. (Kincheloe and Steinberg 1998, 23–24)

In educational contexts the consciousness that critical theory brings to bear helps educators see issues of power, privilege, illusions of neutrality, misapprehensions of objectivity, and inequity within school structures and curriculum (see Kincheloe and Steinberg 1998, 24). Soyini Madison quoting Jim Thomas states: “[Social critique] implies evaluative judgment of meaning and method in research, policy, and human activity. . ..Critical thinking implies freedom by recognizing the social existence, including our knowledge of it, is not simply composed of givens imposed on us by powerful and mysterious forces” (2005, 13). Consequently, critical theory creates a space to seek “possibilities in institutions and agency in individuals” (Leonardo 2004, 16). Madison later articulates her role or agency as it is informed by critical theory as to name the hidden forces, turn our gaze to include others, to make power structures blatant, to attend to what is intuitively sensed, and to “provide insight and inspire acts of

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justice” (2005, 13). This balance between institutional and individual possibility is essential when engaging teachers in my social foundations of education graduate courses, who often feel powerless to change the monolithic educational system, but can be inspired to daily undermine negative community forces and promote social justice in the microcosms of their classrooms. For, with critique comes possibility (the wonderful coupling of theory with action), but this often brings with it a sense of responsibility and even culpability. However, critical examination of Africa’s education systems is not an exercise to simply place blame at the feet of teachers or regimes, be they former colonizers or indigenous Africans, for the institutional inequities of the continent. I encourage critical reflection to expose inequities for the sake of germinating possibilities within individuals and institutions, not to assign or assuage guilt. For example, at a recent teacher’s meeting, the educators were discussing student apathy and the conversation moved from blaming society, parents, and students to devising ways the school could positively promote student autonomy in care. We are now enacting these constructive actions after our critical examination. Carol Morgaine, a professor and coordinator of child and family studies, offers an example of the possibilities of critical theory to guide family life educators and teacher educators in helping their students think about their assumptions and expectations to better understand our complex educational spaces in a “Critical Theory of Self-Formation” (Morgaine 1994, 325). Morgaine notes that critical theory perceives that systems are in place that advance certain communities at the expense of others and that critical theory exposes the ways “social and cultural realities may be hindering the human potential of all people” (1994, 325). I suggest that oppressed and dominant community members need to examine societal structures as well as their own values, beliefs, and assumptions about everyday life – in other words, their positionality – to be, as Morgaine frames it, “enlightened about hidden influences in [our] own personal and social situations” (1994, 325). During a process of personal critical inquiry, Morgaine as a family life and teacher educator realized that mastery of the content and skills was not prevailing over her preprofessional student’s original values, beliefs, and assumptions despite her attempts to seek to facilitate praxis. “[I]instead of valuing diversity and justice, the students allowed their value judgments to influence their actions” (Morgaine 1994, 325). Morgaine’s reflections revealed that student acknowledgment of bias and prejudice was often shaming or resulted in denial. I have often experienced this with my white, middle-class students, who deny white guilt, racism, classism, or problems of sexism because they fail to see their own privilege is what makes these problems nonissues to them. To encourage students to move beyond being paralyzed by guilt or becoming resistant, Morgaine helped her students look at subordination and domination to critically examine their own oppressive life experiences. This fostered empathy through understanding other’s experiences through connecting them to one’s own, which in turn spurred emancipatory action toward making equitable changes in the professional behavior of her students (praxis). Students using critical inquiry to look at their own experiences of oppression and how oppression works were more inclined to increase just and ethical

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professional actions. Morgaine models the process of critical inquiry by paying attention to herself: listening to her own processes of thinking and feeling while teaching and being mindful or thoughtful of her pedagogy and her student’s responses. I refer back to Greene’s vision of commonality and difference that is sensitive to inclusion. I suggest we need to pay attention to what our biases are causing us to ignore and our partialities are favoriting through a process of constant self-reflexivity. By evaluating student resistance, our emotional responses, verbal feedback, and self-awareness of our own raced, classed, engendered, politicized selves, we can consider if we are being sensitive to all our students’ experiences and understanding of oppression and adjust our practice accordingly. It was in this process of critical reflection that Morgaine was able to perceive her student’s presuppositions based on prior learning that were impeding their coming to consciousness regarding issues of difference and equality. To facilitate enlightenment Morgaine attempted to equalize power between herself and her students, created a dialogue between herself and the students to encourage reflection, included students in curricular choices, and integrated interpretive forms of knowledge (personal journals, films, novels, etc.) into her course texts. This involves sometimes changing the curriculum or pedagogy to meet the requests of your students. I did this one year for a group of senior boys. It changed the tenor of the class – we were able to have very frank, egalitarian conversations while covering their educational needs because I had positioned them as equally important in decision-making and discussions. Morgaine then began to “peel back the layers of meaning” though dialogue that attempted to be non-elitist and non-manipulative while engaging in dialectical thinking that looked for contradictions and competing arguments. Discrepancy analysis identified the gaps between the desired ends and the realities. For example, in an advanced level high school class, the students were making negative assertions about immigrants and refugees. By providing them with current and reliable data and letting them freely analyze the material, they were able to see how fallacies were driving their prejudices. Finally, rational arguments were given to persuade the students regarding privilege and other hidden forms of oppressive social relations, often taking the form of narratives of those with firsthand experience of oppression. Morgaine suggests that the students were consequently more likely to begin to see themselves as being positioned (by their race, class, gender, etc.) and the potential was fostered to change their views of themselves and others upon examination of their self-formation. This critical theory of self-formation suggests that an individual’s self-formation is negatively influenced by power and assumes that human beings’ authentic selves are distorted when they live in hierarchical social systems, such as colonialism. As individuals reflect upon concepts embedded within the theory, conscience raising may be facilitated. Praxis or emancipatory actions – both personal and societal – are expected as enlightenment begins. This action creates a transformative effect as it critiques and seeks alternatives (see Morgaine 1994, 333). Morgaine notes that her student’s, through exposure to her critical theory of selfformation, were more likely to develop greater awareness of “diverse realities of life and realization of the ways historical and macro-sociopolitical factors have

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influenced individuals and families” and become committed to addressing injustice. With this sort of expanded critical theoretical outlook, I am hopeful that teachers might embrace pedagogies such as strength-based instruction, promote talent potential and cultural assets, and develop African communal and individual funds of knowledge (see Milner IV 2009, xxii–xxiii). This is of course contingent on how these suggestions compliment the diverse array African educational contexts.

Positionality: Focusing on Personal Preparation for Sensitivity to Difference With a philosophical view that looks at difference with hope and careful critical consideration of difference as it relates to education, we now must focus our attention in this section on positionality. To enact pluralism and critical theory of self-formation, educators must engage in a process of personal preparation for sensitivity to issues of difference. Such ethical, epistemological, and pedagogical outlooks, however, require attention to context. This leads me to the area of positionality as it relates to personal preparation in educators for situation sensitivity. I take up positionality as the concept that our race, class, and gender are “markers of relational positions rather than essential qualities” (Tetreault and Kay 1993, 139). Positionality influences and affects our relationships with our contexts and others (see Alcoff 1988; Mayer and Tetreault 2001, 164). Our positionality informs our “goals, knowledge, beliefs, strategies, and other normative frames of reference” (Rehm and Allison 2006, 261) as educational researchers and practitioners. Thus “[w]e don't see things as they are, we see them as we are” (Nin 1961, 16). This can be traced back to one of the most important epistemological findings of Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason. Kant explains that “[h]itherto it has been supposed that all our knowledge must conform to the objects” (Kant 1922, 693 = B xvi). However, “all attempts to establish anything about them a priori, by means of concepts, and thus to enlarge our knowledge, have come to nothing,” (Ibid.) and this is why Kant suggests to turn around the perspective and what he compares to Copernicus revolution of thought. Copernicus was not “able to get on in the explanation of the movements of the heavenly bodies, as long as he assumed that all the stars turned round the spectator” (Kant 1922, 693 = B xvi). But then Copernicus turned the perspective around. He revolutionized the perspective in the literal Latin meaning of revolutio, “a turn around,” this is why Copernicus’ called his famous work De revolutionibus orbium coelestium. That means Copernicus now tried “whether he could not succeed better, by assuming the spectator to be turning round, and the stars to be at rest” (Kant 1922, 693 = B xvi). This revolution of thought is what Kant in the Critique of Pure Reasons attempts to introduce into metaphysics or, as we would say today, epistemology. He wants to check whether we should not “succeed better with the problem of metaphysic by assuming that the objects must conform to our mode of cognition, for this would better agree with the demanded possibility of an a priori knowledge of them, which is to settle something about objects, before they are given us” (Kant 1922, 693 = B xvi). Kant thus

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assumes it is not the objects that determine our cognition, but our modes of cognition that determine what we cognize. Our excavation of positionality reminds us that we are raced, classed, and gendered and that our knowledge is socially and self-constructed. An analysis of our situatedness and embodiedness, the questions of dominance and power, and the negotiated, contested, and mediated working out of our identities is a critical endeavor (see Martin and Van Gunten 2002, 46). Since educators are positioned, their identities and knowledge are situated. Thus the work of perceiving the social construction of knowledge from multiple perspectives is “essential to understanding how to create equitable and culturally representative pedagogical strategies” (Martin and Van Gunten 2002, 46) in African education. The connection is made between educational philosophy, critical theory, positionality, and multiculturalism in that “many potential teachers remain unaware of their positionality as racially privileged, class dominant and heterosexually oriented as advantaged [or disadvantaged] because of gender;” these theoretical bedfellows can be the site of developing consciousness of oppression and challenging of our perceptions of ourselves and others (see Martin and Van Gunten 2002, 46–47). Since I do not assume such a thing as a one-size-fits-all solution to address difference in Africa’s educational institutions, I take up Gay’s focus on personal preparation (see Gay 2003, 4) and at “the heart of this personal becoming is self-knowledge” (Gay 2003, 4). This belief is particularly evident in Gay’s focus on the way who we are determines how we teach and her recognition that teaching is a “personal and professional process,” (Gay 2003, 4) which confirms for me the need to carefully consider positionality to encourage teachers in being “reflective and critically conscious” (Gay 2003, 4) especially regarding issues of difference. Gay utilizes “self-studies and personalized reporting of teachers,” referred to as “reflection, narratives, storied research, and autobiography,” (Gay 2003, 4) as a means to explore the intersections of our positionality and practice. Her work claims the legitimate use of narratives as a pedagogical tool in educational research, theory, and practice as educators interpret the “broader. . .educational messages that are embedded in their personal stories” (Gay 2003, 9). In explaining the process of examining a “personal and professional process” (personal preparation) at the “intersections of person and performance” (Gay 2003, 4) (positionality), Gay is informed by Sonia Nieto’s texts The Light in Their Eyes (1999, 2010) and Affirming Diversity (1992, 2000). Nieto expresses that “student learning is not simply a personal discovery but also a social act; it is also deeply connected with the beliefs and daily practices of teachers” (Nieto 2010, 27). Nieto speaks to the transformative process that is a “personal awakening and call to action” (Nieto 2010, xviii). This transformation has its genesis in the individual, and these stories of the origins and consequences of transformation can in turn inform other educators (see Nieto 2010, 26). Nieto asserts that “the reflections of teachers can have a profound impact on educational theory and practice” (Nieto 2010, 26). Nieto writes regarding transformation:

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I have participated with teachers in reflecting and learning about the power and the limits of education. With teachers I have considered the tremendous chasm that exists between the rhetoric of equality and the reality of oppression. I have listened as they have described fundamental changes they have made in their beliefs, or their teaching, or both. And I have continued my own transformation as a teacher and a learner. . . It is these experiences that have convinced me that unless and until teachers undergo a personal transformation, little will change in our schools. (Nieto 2010, 27)

Nieto extends this transformative process beyond individual lives of teachers and connects it to the broader societal context (see Nieto 2010, 28). She sees the potential for good and harm embodied by each educator and maintains that the sharing of stories of educator evolution within the tension of individual action interacting with societal conditions such as racial, class, gender, religious, epistemological, and ontological oppression and discrimination is useful for personal and collective transformation (see Nieto 2010, 30–31, 155). Transformation can occur in the spaces of examining our identities (what I am calling positionality), becoming students of our students, identifying with our students, becoming multicultural, challenging racism and other biases, and finally in joining with others with the same critical hope (see Nieto 2010, 155–183). Gay draws on Nieto’s contention that “becoming a multicultural teacher. . .first means becoming a multicultural person” [emphasis in original] (Gay 2003, 5; see Nieto 1992, 275). Nieto tells us this means, among other things, gaining understanding of other cultures, tackling issues of personal racism and bias, and attending to other viewpoints (see Nieto 1992, 275). Nieto goes on to describe how moving from being monocultural to multicultural may not guarantee that everyone exemplifies her list of attributes, but it lays “the groundwork for it” (Nieto 1992, 275–276). There is no surety of making this internal shift occur. In light of the philosophical voices and critical theories that inform me, I can only claim that this lays groundwork for potential growth. As Gay explains, “we can offer guidance, resources, encouragement, support, models, but how or whether to act on these is always an individual decision. Each of us must make our own journey. . .” (Gay 2003, 5). For example, in the ongoing work of interrogating my positionality, I try to trace the development of my identity, whereby I acknowledge and value my own personal context and experiences (see Madison 2005, 19) and must evaluate my specific identities regarding my race, class, and gender (see Murillo 2004, 156). I do this based on the counsel of qualitative research scholar, Enrique Murillo. He warns against being complicit in colonial agendas. Since I am literally a white former colonizer from Africa now residing in another former colony, the United States, I carefully heed the caution. As a dominant community member, I must avoid the act of colonizing knowledge for my own benefit in the guise of reclamation of marginalized knowledge and ways of knowing. I must circumvent the imposition of colonizer power within my classroom by reserving primacy for the marginalized and establishing power-sharing and power-transferring strategies. If I neglect my particular positions of privilege, they remain intact and unchallenged, and I fail to disrupt inequity. Murillo points out the need to navigate the dilemma of being self-

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serving in my efforts, since I am often an outsider of the communities I study and teach. I continually challenge myself to question if my attention to difference is simply a means for advancing my career, making me look better as a human being, or if it turns attention onto me rather than others (see Murillo 2004, 156). Oxymoronically, I suggest then attending to oneself for the sake of others. I suggest that our epistemological orientation is another thread of our positionality. Murillo’s work challenges objectivity and the deprecation of subjectivity, ideology, or emotion (see Murillo 2004, 166). Our conceptualizations regarding “[t]heory about the nature of knowledge; how what exists may be known,” (Glesne 2005, 6) determine what we see as knowledge and how it is constructed. This determines how we assume learning occurs and what should be taught. And, as the line of dominoes tumble, this affects how we teach (pedagogy) and what we teach (curriculum). Our epistemological positioning must be made explicit for us to assess its role in establishing equitable practices in our classrooms.

Multiculturalism to Make Seeing Believing We have considered how philosophy infused with positionality can impact the transformation of educators to positively deal with difference in the diverse educational settings of African education. In this final section, we will address how teacher’s practice may enact this philosophical and critical awareness. The concept of multiculturalism itself means different things to different people. Conservative multiculturalists, for example, see it as a means to explore the problems caused by diversity. But they perceive difference as divisive and seek to promote a “common culture” (Kincheloe and Steinberg 2002, 4). This sort of discourse sounds like a binary us and them. Liberal multiculturalists wish to address inequality by promoting equal social and economic opportunities through education. However, within this approach, Eurocentric culture is the norm referenced. Sameness in the form of individualism and citizenship is pursued by liberal multiculturalists (see Kincheloe and Steinberg 2002, 10–14). This discourse sounds like us but the “us” is the dominant cultural group. Pluralistic multiculturalists “celebrate diversity and equal opportunity,” but this often manifests in a separate-but-equal focus on “heritage and cultural differences” (Kincheloe and Steinberg 2002, 16–17) and a “cultural tourism” (Kincheloe and Steinberg 2002, 18). This discourse speaks of us knowing about them. Left-essentialist multiculturalism sounds like us, but “us” is the marginalized group and has “concerned itself more with self-assertion than with the effort to build strategic democratic alliances for social justice” (Kincheloe and Steinberg 2002, 22). Critical multiculturalism is concerned with how domination occurs and issues of power. Critical multiculturalism promotes self-reflection and positions class as an essential concern, although acknowledging its intersections between race and gender (see Kincheloe and Steinberg 2002, 23–25). However, despite marginalized groups seeking new alliances with whites from the working and middle classes, there still remains a discourse of us, the have-not’s and them, the have’s.

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Multicultural scholar Sonia Nieto’s definition of multicultural education offers a critical hope. She defines it as “embedded in a sociopolitical context and as antiracist and basic education for all students that permeates all areas of schooling, and that is characterized by a commitment to social justice and critical approaches to learning” (Nieto 2010, 26). And here I suggest new discourse emerges as Nieto goes on to describe multiculturalism: “My definition is an expansive one, comprising not only race, ethnicity, and language but also gender, social class, sexual orientation, ability, and other differences. Students from the majority culture certainly are included in this definition” (Nieto 2010, 26). Us and them becomes all of us, diverse but inclusive. I certainly do not want to re-center a former dominant culture group, but by engaging the teaching force en masse, the large-scale work of praxis-driven conscious-raising regarding issues of difference and equality can harness the broad reach of this group for the benefit of all students. Scholars agree “that a race-centered, cultural and diversity-focused, and multicultural curriculum are essential for student academic and social success,” (Milner 2010a, 6; see also Nieto 2010; Gay 2000) and some suggest that teacher education programs should “provide an encompassing study of cultures, a repertoire of appropriate teaching adaptations, reflective and critical thinking, and multiple experiences with culturally diverse people” (Rehm and Allison 2006, 260). Additionally, by acknowledging the teacher’s positionality as “a significant factor in the learning experience of students,” issues of teacher perceptions that “cultural difference” is somehow “culturally deficient” can be addressed (Rehm and Allison 2006, 261). This opens the door to culturally responsive/relevant pedagogical strategies and curricula, as suggested by Gay, for example, being utilized by former dominant culture group educators (see Gay 2000). If dominant community teachers can be encouraged to develop the dispositions that “include eagerness to learn as much as possible about cultures, willingness to make appropriate adaptations, self-reflection and desire to grow in skill and personal interest in students,” one can only imagine the gains for the student population (see Rehm and Allison 2006, 261) that will contribute to changes to the status quo on a micro and macro level. I suggest Gay’s focus on “personal preparation for being multicultural educators” (Gay 2003, 4) and employing multiculturalism “as broadly conceptualized” and as a “philosophical underpinning” to help guide myself and others to acquire the “skills, knowledge and critical awareness to become productive members of a diverse and democratic society” (Nieto 1992, 269). The work of recent educational scholarship, especially that of multicultural theorists, not only points to the need for a change but also offers a starting point to push the scope of theory and pedagogy that seeks to create equity for oppressed groups. I argue that we must reach beyond those marginalized and oppressed groups and their educators to include members of the dominant group in a jump start on Paulo Freire’s “pedagogy of all [people] in the process of permanent liberation” (Freire 1993, 36–37) to confront and transform the educational setting. Freire has two distinct stages, the first being the liberation for oppressed peoples, which is then followed by a “pedagogy of all people.” In the microcosm of my classroom, this might look like time I spend with girls discussing issues they are struggling

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with while still working with the whole class to build inclusion through mixedgender groupings and classroom expectations of gender-sensitive language. It is in extending the reach of theory and pedagogy to all educators and students that true diversity, inclusion, and social transformation may be nurtured. I suggest that we must begin to teach like a people being transformed while simultaneously addressing oppression, so we live out the process of liberation. I make this claim aware of the complexity that comes with such a call to inclusion given the realities of past and current experiences of oppressive structures and the problem of creating opportunities for all of us to be educated together. By harnessing the reach of the dominant culture African teacher through “a more central and explicit focus on self-determination, racism, and. . .epistemologies,” strategies such as culturally responsive teaching will increase their impact, rather than being “reduced to essentializations, meaningless generalizations, or trivial anecdotes” (Castagno and McKinley Jones Brayboy 2008, 941). By open acknowledgment of identity and vulnerability, discomfort, and confusion dominant culture teachers feel as they “teach across difference,” we will not sacrifice critique for the sake of “safety” and “comfort,” and the identity-perception gap that “forces teachers to relativize their experiences and question their perceptions” can be viewed as a resource rather than a hindrance to teaching (Toshalis 2010, 16–33). Teachers will model how to have their own viewpoint while acknowledging the viewpoints of others while not being expected to perform identity gymnastics and have a view from everywhere. This is not an either/or process but a both/and vision of difference. By purposely engaging all the teaching force for all our students, racism, classism, and sexism can be explicitly dealt with. For example, teachers can be guided in an understanding that “racism is a pervasive and consistent element in the schooling experiences of youth” experienced in multiple ways, including “paternalism, prejudice, harmful assumptions, low expectations, violence, and biased curriculum materials” (Castagno and McKinley Jones Brayboy 2008, 950). When teachers begin to question and, in the words of Maxine Greene, “reflect on their own lived lives and the lives they lead in common with one another, transformation. . .to the end of overcoming oppressiveness and domination,. . .[through] collective self-reflection. . .[and] attentiveness to one’s own history,” then they can start to learn to “promote the redistribution of privilege and social justice” (Greene 1978, 54, 100, 103) for all Africans. In the multiracial and multicultural communities of Africa, it has become increasingly evident that multicultural education cannot simply be added to school curriculum (see Perry and Fraser 1994, 3). Multiculturalism is too large to be merely supplementary. It addresses issues of identity, values, inequities/privileges, history, power, and economics of the nation that extend far beyond the walls of our schools (see Perry and Fraser 1994, 4–9), and it is deeply personal as it addresses individual lived experiences that come with us into our schools. This is a visioning of multiculturalism that is not assimilation, multiplicity, or separate-but-equal: it is sensitivity to diversity for equity with the imperative of inclusion for equality, because dealing with diversity without the end result of equality is simply oppression re-manifested.

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To end current oppressive education practices in African spaces and to create a generation of students that are ready to embrace diversity for equity and inclusion for equality, as I have argued, the scope of multicultural education will have to be broadened. To get at the roots of inequity (myth of meritocracy, funding inequality, segregation, inequitable access to learning, underrepresentation of teachers of color, practices of cultural assimilation (see Nieto 2010, 51–69)) and privilege, a paradigm shift is needed in all teachers. They need to see themselves as social reconstructivists naming neglected histories and ways of being and thinking. All educators need to teach their students, as teacher educator and scholar H. Richard Milner (channeling his mentor Asa Hilliard) states, “how to dismantle systems of racism, inequality, and oppression;” to advocate for others; to “tackle issues of structural inequality;” and to “address apathy, ignorance, and racism wherever they exist” (Milner 2010b, xii). The question then becomes, how will members of the formerly dominant groups in Africa be prevailed upon to confront the educational setting, for it will ask much of them? They will have to acknowledge that at this point in our society, we cannot escape the bounds of race, class, and gender and that it has become necessary to use one’s positionality to further the goal of educational equity and equality in the face of difference. Formerly dominant culture members must become allies (see Titone 1998, 167). Adapting Titone’s concept, I frame an ally as a teacher willing to be aware of their positionality. She/he is willing to engage the subjects of race, class, and gender and is pedagogically mindful of the interplay of race, class, and gender. She/he encourages the exploration of positionality for enlightenment and emancipation in the lives of her/his students. It is a teaching role that is proactively working to combat inequity and positions the teacher as an antiracist (and anti-classist and anti-sexist) role model. An ally’s dominant community power precludes being an insider within the marginalized community, but is offered as a resource if the marginalized community should choose to utilize it. Allies use their influence to trouble “collective positions of privilege,” to “identify actions we can take to share power with non-white [minority] people,” and to engage in “dialog and coalition building” (Sleeter and McLaren 1995, 22). This will require dominant culture members to learn to step aside, listen, share, find ways to connect with minority culture members in meaningful ways, and be students of culture and alternate pedagogies (see Rehm and Allison 2006, 260). The seemingly simple act of listening to criticisms from minority communities is part of the large-scale actions of engagement, empowerment, and equity in African educational contexts (see Kincheloe and Steinberg 2002, 101). Dominant culture members will need to engage in serious personal reflection to address the disconnection between liberal ideologies that support equity and equality in education in theory, but in practice manifest in selfinterested educational choices (see Brantlinger et al. 1996, 572). Dominant culture members will have to confront their own ideologies that allow them to “bridge disparate streams of thought and salve the dissonance that results from the contradiction between their desired liberal identity and [their actual] positionality” (Brantlinger et al. 1996, 572). Prevailing attitudes demonstrate that many whites still perceive injustice can be rectified without alteration of their status (see Milner 2007, 391; Ladson-Billings 1995, 55). However, this is not a process of retaining

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superiority but increasing its base, rather it is the desuperiorizing (Freter 2019) of the dominant group so that privilege becomes a moot point. Through confronting one’s own positionality as it effects one’s own reality in education in this context, powerful change is made more possible. Partnership can then alternately be garnered by the acknowledgment that teachers pragmatically have to have the competency to teach in the face of difference because the demographic reality is that the African landscape is highly diverse. Teachers need to be able to meet the needs of all the students in their classes and prepare their students for life in a multicultural society. Additionally, educators are compelled by economic reasons to equip themselves and their students to function cross-culturally in a globalized marketplace. Inclusion of formerly dominant members becomes a vital part of changing the trajectory in education in Africa because extending the audience without engaging them can be just as detrimental. In teacher education courses that prepare dominant culture members for the classroom, Milner identifies the danger of teacher resistance, “silence in the face of important information about racism, injustice, and inequity,” inadvertent continuation of negative stereotypes, and the misinterpretation of what the needs are of students. He advocates a process of inquiry into oneself, oneself in relation to others, and oneself in relation to larger systemic structures. Milner suggests that this racial and cultural introspection is vital in settings that are seemingly homogenous (either predominantly dominant culture or predominantly minority communities) and settings where dominant and minority groups converge (see Milner 2007, 397). It is by knowing our positionality and our cultural and social values, viewpoints, and biases on an individual and societal level, creating affective awareness, and exposing these values and behaviors in the classroom context that I perceive we will be able to more ably confront practices that impede equity and equality (see Milner 2007, 397; Perry and Fraser 1994, 105). Inclusion of dominant groups for the purpose of situational sensitivity to difference will not only require teacher introspection regarding their positionality (see Perry and Fraser 1994, 99) but a commitment to teacher education that develops skills for sensitivity to cultural diversity with a view to developing cultural competence. Texts and courses “delineating characteristic and issues, lesson ideas, and varied strategies pertinent to specific cultures,” coupled with “immersion in experiences with people of other cultures to stimulate genuine relationships” to foster “understanding and responsive actions when working with students of varied backgrounds,” is one scholar’s recommendation (Rehm and Allison 2006, 263). By developing a degree of cultural competence, educators will be able to become sensitive to the different ways of knowing (epistemologies), (see Milner 2007, 395) engaging the community they will teach in (participating and collaborating in community projects), and embrace a culturally responsive curriculum that understands that knowledge is co-constructed (see Thayer-Bacon 2003) and connects the curriculum to the students’ culture and language (see Castagno and McKinley Jones Brayboy 2008, 947). It has been my experience that despite the limitations of curriculum, and in many instances pedagogy, teacher’s philosophical positional awareness and situational

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sensitivity can value constructive thinking and various epistemological approaches and create democratic learning communities. Even teaching in a private religious school in a highly conservative, wealthy predominantly white community, I have been able to facilitate the examination into difference and promote inclusion through creating a classroom environment of social inquiry and community. Nieto confirms this, stating that it is beliefs and values that produce affirmative learning communities, beliefs such as: “all students have talents and strengths, all students are capable of high levels of learning, students’ families and communities are meaningful partners in promoting learning, students learn best when they are engaged, active, and working in collaboration with others, student learning is promoted when there is a strong connection to teachers, schools, and learning” (Nieto 2010, 101–129). Nieto encourages dominant culture teachers to confront and transform the education setting by learning about their students, connecting with student families, and developing collaborative relationships with fellow educators. Through reflection on issues of positionality, it is my hope that a positive transformative effect to advance educational equity will start with the educators when they perceive systemic inequities, personal experiences of domination and oppression, and different ways of knowing and being and begin to rationally distinguish the effect race, class, and gender have on educational outcomes. This awareness of equity, diversity, and inclusion will then affect educator’s choices of curriculum and pedagogy which will positively impact student achievement and ultimately undermine the oppressive forces in play that perpetuate the inequities within education. There are a number of challenges and questions regarding the inclusion of more diverse and inclusive voices, the most glaring being that the risk of decentering (see Gallagher 2007, 23) of the marginalized. Decentering is a process whereby those who have been marginalized create a new center on the edges of the dominant discourses and create their own counter-narratives that foster stories which can be shared with dominant groups to address their blindness to issues of oppressive power. My goal would be to encourage an inclusive discourse incorporating multiple voices and a dialogue between dominant and marginalized groups to counteract domination, but the risk is that white voices will shift focus away from the margins or supersede new centers of marginalized discourse. The call for inclusion of dominant voices in the field of multicultural education may simply be the need for white scholar’s and educators such as myself to find a niche (see Hernandez Sheets 2000, 15). The specter of the “White Savior” looms as dominant group members attempt to address issues of equity and equality without being prescriptive, paternalistic, or patronizing. When does inclusion become encroachment and reenactment of domination? Do formerly dominated communities want to collaborate with those from the formerly dominant group members given histories of oppression and marginalization in Africa? Additional difficulties include challenging unjust high-stakes testing practices, finding consensus, and compromising when it comes to curriculum (see Nieto 2010, 180) and adjusting pedagogical practices to reflect a focus on equity (see Nieto 2010, 181). Conversely, the challenge remains to create teachers with a transformative agenda and the skills to “participate competently and responsibly in a reciprocal,

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complex teaching-learning process with our children” (Nieto 2010, 17). Another difficulty is the “situated nature of oppression (whereby oppression plays out differently for different people in different contexts) and the multiple and intersecting identities of students” (Kumashiro 2000, 30) hence the need for what I call a situated sensitivity. Formerly dominant voices will continually have to resist essentializing and generalizing. They will have to remain ever sensitive to issues of oppression as they manifest themselves uniquely. They will have to realize that they can never fully know or teach about the “Other” and that they will only ever have a partial perspective (see Kumashiro 2000, 34). Navigating what oppression is, critique, and transformative action and the discomfort that comes with this process will be a lifelong endeavor that may not appeal to members of the dominant group. Additionally, they will be compelled to navigate a “different route to ensure the growth and development of their students” as their philosophy, pedagogy, and personal commitments change (Ladson-Billings 1994, 15–29). They will be challenged to redefine what a “normal student” is, disrupt their own “deficit discourses and beliefs,” (Milner 2007, 389) trouble their views of the pervasiveness of the effects of socioeconomic status, (see Milner 2007, 390) and deal with race and racism (see Milner 2007, 390), not to mention reflect on who they are in relation to their students, the community they serve, and the society they are members of (see Milner 2007, 394–397), and confront the effects of their power and privilege. However, there are benefits. Exposures to theories such as critical theory help educators examine race, privilege, and normativity (see Kumashiro 2000, 30). Connections can be made between race, class, and gender, and new social vision can be envisaged as the specific groups converge (see Kumashiro 2000, 33) with a view to developing sensitivity to diversity while striving for inclusive equality in education in Africa. We can find inclusion and transformation in solidarity, rather than seeking consensus (see Kumashiro 2000, 34) and work together to bring about mutually beneficial change. Educational benefits include the valuing of multiple epistemologies (see Castagno and McKinley Jones Brayboy 2008, 952) and the extension of pedagogies employed (Castagno and McKinley Jones Brayboy 2008, 954) to improve achievement for all students. Students also benefit from these curriculum and pedagogies, not simply by being able to achieve academically, but by being equipped to be change agents.

Conclusion I am a philosopher, a teacher, and a white woman from Africa. As a philosopher I have the role of envisaging things as they may be. As a teacher I am required to educate my students for the way things could be. As a privileged product of colonization, I have a responsibility to try to be an ally in making things as they should be. This chapter has sought to instigate a hope that difference in our African schools need not be a source of conflict and shame, but rather our classrooms can be inclusive and yet pluralistic. But to do this, we need to end oppression by educators engaging in a process of personal preparation for sensitivity to issues of difference

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by critically assessing their own self-formation and contexts. The awareness philosophy infused with positionality can bring is demonstrated by the personal experiences of myself and other multicultural educators who witness how theory impacts the transformation of educators to positively deal with difference in diverse educational settings. Hope is not unfounded. Philosophies of education, critical theories, and multicultural theories help us attend to issues of difference in the context of African education. Through coming to consciousness via this critical engagement, pedagogical practice can be impacted so that difference is an asset not a liability and inclusion unfettered by former hierarchies of dominance and subordination.

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Tetreault, Thompson, and Mary Kay. 1993. Classrooms for diversity: Rethinking curriculum and pedagogy. In Multicultural education: Issues and perspectives, ed. James A. Banks and Cherry A. McGee Banks, 159–181. Boston: Allyn and Bacon. Thayer-Bacon, Barbara. 2003. Relational “(e)pistomologies”. New York: Peter Lang. Thayer-Bacon, Barbara J., and Diana Moyer. 2006. Philosophical and historical research. In Doing educational research: A handbook, ed. Kenneth Tobin and Joe Kincheloe, 139–156. Rotterdam: Sense Publishers. Titone, Connie. 1998. Educating the White teacher as Ally. In White reign: Deploying whiteness in America, ed. Joe L. Kincheloe, Shirley R. Steinberg, Nelson M. Rodriguez, and Ronald E. Chennault, 159–175. New York: St. Martin’s Press. Toshalis, Eric. 2010. The identity-perception gap: Teachers confronting the difference between who they (think they) are and how they are perceived by students. In Culture, curriculum, and identity in education, ed. H. Richard Milner, 16–33. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Waghid, Yusef. 2014. African philosophy of education reconsidered: On being human. Abingdon: Routledge.

Intrinsic Versus Earned Worth in African Conception of Personhood

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Elvis Imafidon

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Personhood, Intrinsic Worth, and Resulting Rights . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Earning Self-Worth and Pursuing Rights . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Melanin-Privileged Africans Versus Africans with Albinism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . White Privileged Persons Versus Black Persons . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Men Versus African Women . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Every human being ought to have some form of intrinsic value that she has in herself as well as earned or extrinsic value that she earns for herself. Although not free from contention, the possibility of a human being having certain intrinsic values is essential for the very idea of personhood. It is the reason why it would be wrong not to take a baby as a person simply because she is at that moment unable to earn some value for herself. In this chapter, I interrogate how the idea of personhood dominant in African cultures separates one category of persons from another category. In the first category of human beings, persons are intrinsically valued as persons due to their possession of certain ontological and normative qualities. In the second category, a few other persons are not intrinsically valued as persons due to their lack of certain required ontological and normative qualities needed to belong to the first category of human beings. But in this second category, such persons have the opportunity to earn the value of personhood given to those in the first category. Put differently, the other has the potential of becoming the one if he works tirelessly toward it through individual and group E. Imafidon (*) Department of Philosophy, Faculty of Arts, Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma, Nigeria e-mail: elvismafi@yahoo.com; elvis.imafi[email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_11

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efforts. I explore three specific examples of the second category of persons who have worked to earn some form of worth that the African society in which they live presents as extrinsic to them: persons with albinism, black people, and black women. In this case, a consistent individual lifestyle of rising above expectations and group rights advocacy are essential. I conclude that the African conception of personhood is flawed in its failure to recognize the intrinsic worth and value of all human beings regardless of their ontological and normative status and because it also fails in appreciating the importance of difference in the unfolding of reality. Keywords

Personhood · Intrinsic worth · Earned self-worth · Rights advocacy · Melaninprivileged Africans · White privileged persons · Black women

Introduction The worth and value of a human being is highly contested. This contention is vividly seen, for instance, in the debate on the conception and, by implication, the value of human life in the history of ideas. This protracted debate has resulted in various perspectives such as the biological, naturalistic, entelechy, vitalist, mechanistic, romantic, cultural, and religious conceptions or accounts of human life. Each of these conceptions of human life lays claim to what the nature of life is and directly or indirectly provides the basis on which we can say that X has life and Y does not and a more farfetched basis on which we can say X is a human being or a person and Y is not or, at the very least, not fully a human being or a person. More specifically, conceptions of personhood within a context, which are largely intertwined with the conceptions of human life, are primarily responsible for determining, for instance, what sort of rights and privileges we can enjoy and who should enjoy them, whether infanticide/embryocide is morally justified, whether genocide of a particular race should be allowed or prevented, and so on. The personhood question is thus a very important question. E. M. Adams therefore says, for instance, concerning human rights, that “no adequate ground for human rights can be found without a fullfledged. . . understanding of what it is to be a human being” (Adams 1982: 191). I pursue similar lines of thought in this chapter: there can be no adequate understanding of the rights and privileges that an African person enjoys without first of all understanding who within the African framework of thought may be referred to as a person or a human being and the intrinsic worth society attributes to such a being. So, I begin by exploring an African account of personhood, highlighting the intrinsic worth and privileges that result from possessing the characteristics of a person. It is important to state from the onset that my use of the term “African” in the pages of this chapter is in no way meant to pursue an unrealistic universalist account of thoughts and belief systems within the multicultural, dynamic, and richly diverse African place nor is it meant to downplay on such diversity. Rather, my justification for using the term stems, I believe, from a well-known fact of the semblances in the rich cultural heritages of African people’s heritages that make it

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possible to talk, for instance, of an African philosophy, African politics, African history, and the like. I find such semblances as well in African broad understanding of personhood as consisting, for instance, of onto-social characteristics, where specific details of such characteristics often vary from culture to culture. Bearing this in mind, I then proceed to examine why certain human beings may not be seen as complete persons within an African context and why such human beings would need to earn their worth through a deliberate fight for their rights and values, for their personhood. I explore this tension between persons with intrinsic worth and persons with earned worth by focusing on three areas where such tension is obvious: between melanin-privileged Africans and Africans with albinism, between African men and African women, and between whites and blacks in contemporary African (and nonAfrican) societies. I conclude that the flaws and limitations of the African understanding of personhood, which limits intrinsic worth to a certain group of people, make it a constant struggle for those not fitting into that group to earn their worth and lead meaningful lives.

Personhood, Intrinsic Worth, and Resulting Rights In an African thought system, what characteristics must a human being possess to be called a person? In African philosophical literature and from living in an African community, what becomes obvious is that a person in an African place has a duo feature. This has rightly be termed the metaphysical and communitarian conceptions of the African person, the ontological and social conception of the African person, or the descriptive or normative conception of the African person (see, e.g., Gyekye 1992; Wiredu 1992; Menkiti 1984; Dzobo 1992; Imafidon 2012). (One major source of reference to these conceptions of person in African cultures is Kwasi Wiredu and Kwame Gyekye, Person and Community: Ghanaian Philosophical Studies I.) Both conceptions are interwoven, and one cannot be conceived as isolated from the other. As I have discussed elsewhere (Imafidon 2012), the metaphysical, ontological, or descriptive aspect of the conception of person in African thought consists first of recognizing a human being as being born to African parents and possessing darkskinned body and also of a description of the constituent parts – physical and nonphysical – of such a human being and their functions or purpose in the scheme of things. (The analysis of the ontological and normative conceptions of person in African cultures that I provide here is a revised excerpt of what I had earlier discussed in a section of the paper titled, The Concept of Person in an African Culture and Its Implication for Social Order (2012).) The biological origin of an African person matters a lot in attributing personhood to her within an African community, and the color of the skin matters too. Although the exact shade of darkness varies, an African person ought to be dark-skinned and must be given birth to by African parents. Hence, a person with an African father and non-African mother or vice versa may be teased within an African community as not fully an African person. In Nigerian communities, for instance, such persons are commonly referred to as “half-caste” sending the message that they are not fully African and not

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fully non-African; they are casted and caught somewhere in between raising questions of identity that is a subject matter for discourse I wish to deliberately avoid at this point. Also, although there is no consensual view as to the exact constituents of the person in African cultures due to the slight differences in the views embedded in different African communities, there exist strong semblances in these varied perspectives of the descriptive conception of person. In fact, scholars theorizing about the ontological constituents of a person in an African culture are bound to provide theories that may appear different, but on closer look are not so different. These facts become clear in the examination of the perspectives of different African cultures or a single African culture by different scholars. Kwasi Wiredu, for example, develops a pentachotomistic perspective of the ontological conception of a person in the Akan culture. In his view, an Akan person consists of okra, the life principle and source of human dignity and destiny, sunsum (the personality or charisma principle), and mogya (the blood or kinship principle). Others are nipadua (the physical body) and the ntoro [that which is responsible for the cast of personality (the semen)] which is inherited from one’s father and is taken as the basis of membership of a patrilineal group (Onah 2002: 75). Apparently, the ideas of the mogya and ntoro, as developed by Wiredu, refer to some genetic aspects of the human being. Kwame Gyekye, another reputed Akan philosopher, develops a somewhat unified dualist view of the Akan concept of a person as simply consisting of the okra (which he interprets as soul) and nipadua (body) (Gyekye 1984: 200–208). Wiredu is, however, quick to warn against the translation of okra to the English “soul” which is a purely immaterial substance because the okra, to him, is a quasi-material substance (Onah 2002: 74). This is because the Akan believe that highly developed medicine men with medicinally heightened perception are capable of seeing the okra. In addition, there is the belief among the Akans that specific okra has specific kinds of food to which they are allergic, and the consumption of such by an individual may result in physical illness. Perhaps, Kwame Appiah, a famous Akan philosopher, provides a clearer summary of the Akan ontological concept of a person in his tripartite analysis of such in the Asante tradition when he says: . . . a person consists of a body (nipadua) made from the blood of the mother (the mogya); an individual spirit, the sunsum, which is the main bearer of ones personality; and a third entity, the okra. The sunsum derives from the father at conception. The okra, a sort of life force that departs from the body only at the person’s last breath; is sometimes as with the Greeks and the Hebrews, identified with breath; and is often said to be sent to a person at birth, as the bearer of ones nkrabea, or destiny, from Nyame. The sunsum, unlike the okra, may leave the body during life and does so, for example, in sleep, dreams being thought to be the perceptions of a person’s sunsum on its nightly peregrinations. . .. (Appiah 2004: 28)

Among the Yoruba people, there is much consensus among scholars of the Yoruba tradition that there is a tripartite conception of person in the ontological level of conception. The three elements are ara (body), emi (vital principle), and ori (destiny). The Yoruba believe that it is ori that rules, controls, and guides the life and activities of the person. The ori as the essence of a person derives from Olodumare

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(Supreme Being). And because this ori derives from Olodumare, the person is bound to Olodumare, and without Him, the person cannot have her being or existence (Oyeshile 2006a: 157). The ara is a collective term for all the material components of a person most important for the Yoruba. The ara thus include parts of the physical body as Opolo (the brain), Okan (the heart), and Ifun (the intestine) (Oladipo 1992: 15–16). Both Opolo and Okan are regarded by the Yoruba as having some connections with human conscious activities – such as thinking and feeling. According to Oladipo (1992: 16): Opolo is regarded by them as having connections with sanity and intelligence. Thus, when a person is insane, they say “Opolo re ko pe” (his brain is not complete or not in order). . . Okan, (physical heart), which, apart from being closely connected with blood, is also regarded as the seat of emotion and psychic energy. A person who is courageous is said to “have a heart” (oni okan).

Oladipo also explains that Ifun, on the other hand, is regarded as the source of strength and resourcefulness. Thus, when a person is described as ko n’ ifun nino (“he has no intestine”), it means that she is not strong; she has no resilience (1992). Emi is the element that provides the animating force or energy without which a person cannot be said to have life or consciousness. It is, according to Bolaji Idowu (1962), closely associated with the breath and the whole mechanism of breathing which are its most impressive manifestations. Generally speaking, it is regarded by the Yoruba as the basis of human existence. It is the entity which gives life to a person; its presence or absence in a person makes the difference between life and death. It is conceived as that divine element in man which links him directly to God. According to the Yoruba worldview, it is Olodumare (the Supreme Being) who breathes it into the bodies formed by Orisonla (the primordial divinity) to make them living human beings. Hence, in the event of death, it returns to Olodumare, who has among many attributes that of being the owner of life, to give an account of a person’s activities on earth and to continue to live. Emi, then, for the Yoruba, is immortal (Oladipo 1992). Emi can be seen to be similar in certain respects to okra of the Akans. They are both, for instance, regarded as the undying part of man which is given directly by the creator before man is born into the world. Also, like the okra, emi can advise a man on what to do and what not to do. However, they are not identical. For instance, the Akans see the okra as the carrier of human destiny, indeed, in the words of Gyekye, “the embodiment and transmitter of the individuals destiny.” But the Yoruba see it in another entity, Ori, the embodiment of human destiny (Oladipo 1992: 19). Ori (appropriately called inner head) is in the words of Segun Gbadegesin “. . . the bearer of a person’s destiny as well as the determinant of personality” (2004: 53; see also Adeofe 2004: 69–83). The Ibos of Nigeria also have a similar tripartite ontological conception of a person as consisting of the aru (physical body), chi (destiny, which can change depending on a number of factors such as hard work and spiritual fortification), and inmuo (spirit, which is immortal and ensures the individual’s continuing self-identity (Ozumba 2004)).

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What is obvious from these ontological or descriptive conceptions of a person in the Akan, Yoruba, and Ibo thought systems is that Africans share a fairly similar understanding of the ontology of a person as consisting of a physical body, a vital force, and destiny. Hence the individual is made up of material, quasi-material, and immaterial aspects all forming a unified whole to account for the individual’s predispositions and experiences. However, as noted earlier, in an African culture, the concept of a person goes beyond the ontological conception of the person to include a normative conception of a person. Normatively, personhood is not something one is born with. It has to be acquired through internalization of, or at least commitment to, social norms. From this perspective, a person is not just any human being, but one who has attained the status of a responsible member of the society (Onah 2002: 78). The normative conception of a person consists of the way a person is understood in a given community in terms of his social relations to other persons and beings and his social roles (Sogolo 1993). In this normative level of conceptualizing the person, African traditional thought systems conceive the person as a communal being (Dzobo 1992). John S. Mbiti (1969: 108–109) puts it this way in his famous lines: Only in terms of other people does the individual become conscious of his own being, his own duties, his privileges and responsibilities towards himself and towards other people. When he suffers, he does not suffer alone but with the corporate group; when he rejoice, he rejoices not alone but with his kinsmen, his neighbours and relatives whether dead or alive. . . The individual can only say: “I am, because we are; and since we are, therefore I am”. This is the cardinal point in the understanding of the African view of man.

To be a person in this sense according to Kwasi Wiredu is to be an adult who works hard, thinks judiciously, and is capable to support a conjugal household as well as fulfill a range of obligation to his extended group of kinfolk and to the civic community at large (Onah 2002: 78). A person, in this sense, would therefore exclude infants, persons with mental disabilities, and persons with physical disabilities. In an African traditional thought therefore a person in the normative sense has three levels of existence: first, as an individual; second, as a member of a group; and third as a member of a community. This is because persons within the society are constantly interacting with one another in these levels (Ndubuisi 2004). The African society is therefore communal in nature because the persons are believed to continually be in a social relation with others (both living and dead) and cannot be conceived as existing outside such social interaction. But it is important to avoid an exaggerated (radical) normative communalistic theory of a person as advocated by scholars such as Ifeanyi A. Menkiti (1984) because although the African person is a communal being, she is only partly so, for she has her own individualistic values. According to Kwame Gyekye: Besides being a communitarian by nature, the human person is, also by nature, other things as well. By other things, I have in mind such essential attributes like rationality, having a capacity for virtue and for evaluating and making moral judgements and, hence, being capable of choice. It is not the community that creates these attributes; it discovers and nurtures them. (Oyeshile 2006b: 114–115)

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Expressing this room for individualistic tendencies and potentialities, Benezet Bujo also says succinctly that: . . .the individual may not blindly follow the group. Life in community demands alertness and the maintenance of one’s own individuality. In other words, the discernment of spirits must be preserved even in the context of friendship and community. (2003: 118–119)

The communitarian, normative conception of the person, according to Gyekye (1992: 104), has some implications. It implies (i) that the human person does not voluntarily choose to enter into human community, that is, the community life is not optional for any individual person; (ii) that the human person is at once a cultural being; (iii) that the human person cannot –perhaps, must not – live in isolation from other persons; (iv) that the human person is naturally oriented toward other persons and must have relationship with them; (v) that social relationships are not contingent but necessary; and (vi) that, following from (iv) and (v), the person is constituted, but only partly, by social relationships in which he necessarily finds himself. African societies, therefore, place a great deal of emphasis on communal values. The communal structures of African societies have created a sense of community that characterizes social relations among individual members of the society. Therefore, normatively speaking, one cannot be a person without a community. This implies that a person has obligations toward the community. It is in fulfilling such obligations that she remains a person in the normative sense. This also implies that personhood in the normative sense can be more or less, not the same at all times; it can be acquired and lost in time. One who acts irresponsibly or has become mentally insane would be a nonperson logically since she deliberately or non-deliberately unable to fulfill her social obligations and duties expected of all persons in the society. Despite the distinction drawn above between the descriptive and the normative conceptions of persons in African cultures, there is no separation of one from the other. It is usually the context or particular situation in an African place that determines which of the perspectives receive more emphasis at a given time. But both conceptions are essential to understand who a person is in African cultures. To underscore this point, we could think of a foreigner who resides in an African place. She may live a community-accepted life and may be doing well in the normative sense of being a person within the community in which she lives, but it would still be difficult for her to be accepted as an African person or as part of the community of persons, and she may never be able to enjoy all the rights that persons within such a community enjoy because she is not yet seen as a person in the ontological sense. Thus, being born into an African community, to African parents, and possessing dark skin gives a person some intrinsic worth, worth that naturally belongs to her simply for being recognized as an African person. And this worth of an African person quickly translates into the enjoyment of certain rights. Possessing the ontological and normative features of a person, which makes a human being a complete person in an African society, endows such a person with rights. In other words, although persons in an African place as so called due to the

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continuous responsibilities and obligations they must fulfill particularly in the normative sense, they also enjoy benefits in forms of rights from being identified and accepted as persons. The most significant of such rights enjoyed by persons for being recognized as persons in African cultures, which forms the basis for the enjoyment of other rights, is social assimilation and acceptance. By social assimilation and acceptance, I mean that an individual human being is accepted by, and assimilated and incorporated into, an African community or society as a person on the sole basis that she possesses the ontological and normative features that the African society expects of a person. This acceptance into the community of an individual is an essential right that paves the way for the individual to enjoy other rights and privileges in the community in which he lives. Some of the rights enjoyed by persons accepted by the African community as persons include but are surely not limited to rights to political participation, right to life and security, right to inheritance, right to own property, right to basic social amenities, right to benefit from religious rituals, and right to a proper burial when physically dead. Admittedly, persons accepted as persons in an African community may not be conscious of the fact that they enjoy certain rights and benefits simply because they are accepted as persons. In fact, this may never occur to them. They are born into the community and simply live their everyday life enjoying these rights without realizing that they do enjoy such rights because of the intrinsic worth that results from their being persons. Those who easily become conscious of this fact that being given or denied personhood in an African community determines the forms of rights and benefits one enjoys are those who have been denied such rights on the basis that they are not fully persons within such a community. Such persons may need to earn their worth since it is not intrinsic to their being.

Earning Self-Worth and Pursuing Rights A human being in an African community lacking some features of personhood expected of her in the community would therefore be denied the intrinsic worth of a person who has the required features for being a person. In African cultures, persons with different forms of disability; a foreigner; a terminally, contagiously, mentally, or visibly ill person; and an immoral person who fails to live by the ethos and ethical standards of the community would make the list of persons whose worth will be called into question in African communities. Such persons will be seen as have lesser or no worth compared to African persons with intrinsic worth living within such communities. A person with albinism or a person with angular kyphosis, for instance, would not be regarded as persons understood in the ontological and normative senses discussed above. Rather, they would be seen ontologically as a queer human other, providing varying theorizations as to the nature and features of such othering. In the words of Elvis Imafidon (2018: 39), persons with albinism in many African cultures:

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. . . may in all respects visibly appear to be human, except, of course, for the lack of pigmentation. But they are, in fact, excluded from the human category of beings. Rather, persons with albinism are viewed as queer, unusual beings. Their unusual nature stems not only from their visible physical difference but also from the ideas about the nature of their being presented and represented down the ages in the worldviews of African traditional societies.

He adds that: One important distinction between human beings considered as normal and those considered as queer, with particular reference to persons with albinism, is the presence and absence of the spirit element of the human being that lives on in the spiritual realm of existence after physical death. It is evident from African traditions that while human beings possess not just vital force, but also spirit, which makes them capable of becoming an ancestor, a manipular spirit, or a deified divinity, persons with albinism, as queer beings, may have vital force but do not have spirit. It is therefore not possible, for instance, to talk of a person with albinism as becoming an ancestor after death. A person with albinism is therefore less of a being than a human being. Such a person is also not viewed in the same way a human being is viewed as possessing certain essential ontological qualities such as coming into being with a destiny chosen before the Supreme Being. Rather, the coming into being of a person with albinism is viewed as an outcome of a curse placed on the child bearer, the husband of the child bearer or the family at large due to some wrong doing, from a higher force (such as an ancestor or divinity) due to some wrong doing. Hence, a family that gives birth to a person with albinism is seen as unfavored by some higher forces and faces ridicule within the community. For this reason, persons with albinism are conceived as a human other, something different from the approved and accepted notion of a human being. (2018: 39–40).

Viewing persons with albinism as ontologically lesser persons in this way in African communities could have dire consequences for such persons as it has indeed. Many persons with albinism have been discriminated against, harmed physically and psychologically, and killed and their body parts commodified based on such an understanding of their being as less than human. This is true for other persons living with other forms of disabilities. Similarly, the genocide against the Tutsis in Rwanda masterminded by members of the Hutu majority government who felt that the Tutsis were nonpersons from their perspective and the recurrent xenophobic attack against African foreigners in South Africa may best be understood from the conceptions of personhood inherent in the communities in which such inhuman acts and violence were and are still being perpetuated. In the same vein, people in an African community would not consider as persons in a normative sense those who do not live by the ethos and ethics of the community. Matters as serious as alternative lifestyles and matters as insignificant as modes of dressing could make the difference on whether a community accepts or rejects someone as a person. In all of such cases of the othering of persons in African communities, what becomes clear is that the intrinsic worth of a person seen as an essential part of all persons who fulfill the ontological and normative criteria of personhood would not be attributed to the persons that have been othered for failing to fulfill the requirements of personhood. Such othered persons as the person with albinism and the foreigner have two options: they either accept the status of lesser or

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no person conferred on them by society, or they make the society recognize their worth as persons by earning them and fighting for their rights. To accept the personhood status conferred on a human being by society is to live within the social box even when such becomes detrimental and inimical to one’s well-being. It means fitting into the social system and the systemic structures and accepting that one is different from others even in a manner that inferiorizes. To earn self-worth on the other hand means to take what was not initially given, to say to the society: “I am more of a person than you think I am or you say I am.” It is a forceful, deliberate, and active exercise engaged in both through words, action, and inaction to prove that one is worth more and much more valuable than the social group in which one dwells and considers such a person to be. Earned self-worth is also what one compels the society to accept about one’s personhood through an overriding of the status quo on the nature of one’s personhood in a given society. Earned self-worth must be pursued from two different levels: individual level and group level. At the individual level, a person who has been represented as a lesser person in a community of selves rises above such representation through a deliberate and consistent lifestyle that shows she can overcome and rise above social constraints and become what society clearly holds she cannot become. It is a triumph over social expectations. Such persons become reference points that many in the society refer to when they wish to counter the claim that so and so category of persons are lesser persons that others in the community. At the group level, a group of persons sharing a common social (mis)representation of their personhood deliberately act to negate social representations through advocacy and the pursuance of rights, rights meant to bridge the already existing gap between allegedly complete persons and lesser persons in the ontological and normative senses. In what follows, I highlight how these levels of earning selfworth play out in three specific cases: persons with albinism, black people, and black women.

Melanin-Privileged Africans Versus Africans with Albinism By melanin-privileged Africans, I mean Africans born with melanin that makes them enjoy privileges that Africans born without melanin are unable to enjoy. Being born a black African or an African with melanin (without any forms of disability) confers on a person the intrinsic worth that makes her to be at once accepted by the community, part of the privilege that a person with melanin enjoys the socially given idea that one is superior to others without melanin. In this way, the socially normalized color of the skin, which the person had no control over during birth, becomes a criterion for exacting superiority over others who were born without melanin, and these, of course, are persons with albinism. A melanin-privileged would therefore feel superior to and assume to have authority over the life, wellbeing, and existence of persons with albinism in an African place. The truism of this is pretty obvious in African communities. The awful, derogatory names used by Africans for persons with albinism, the manner in which they are (mal)treated,

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discriminated against, and the way in which their being is generally perceived by persons with melanin in African societies, show clearly that black Africans do feel strongly that not only have control and authority over persons with albinism who are at their mercy, but they ought to enjoy more rights and privileges above whatever rights and privileges persons with albinism could ever enjoy. Black Africans thus have some form of intrinsic worth that persons with albinism lack. Flowing from our understanding of how self-worth denied as not being intrinsic to a person can be earned through the individual and group levels, persons with albinism as individuals and as groups have thus engaged in the struggle of earning their self-worth and continue to do so even more vigorously. A number of individuals with albinism have risen above the social representations of the nature of their being and, by implication, the social expectations of them and have achieved great heights in their respective communities. In this way, they have debunked the devaluation of their worth, self-esteem, and personhood. Also, there are now many human rights, advocacy, and research groups of persons with albinism and other interested parties that have the consensual goal of fighting for and proving the dignity, worth, and integrity of persons with albinism. In other words, these groups pursue and earn the worth and value of the personhood of persons with albinism that the African society denied them. Hence we have in many African countries a national advocacy group for the well-being of persons with albinism such as The Albino Foundation (TAF), Nigeria, the Albinism Society of Kenya, Association of Persons with Albinism in Malawi, Albinism Society of South Africa, and the Tanzania Albinism Society. Also international and world organizations have also played key roles either in establishing bodies or supporting already established bodies in the advocacy for the rights and worth of persons with albinism. For example, the United Nations has set up the office of the United Nations Expert for the Enjoyment of Human Rights by Persons with Albinism currently headed by a distinguished human rights lawyer with albinism, Ms. Ikponwosa Ero. Thus, while melanin-privileged Africans do not have to fight for social assimilation and acceptance, persons with albinism have to earn such through consistent efforts of rights advocacy.

White Privileged Persons Versus Black Persons White privileged persons are persons mostly of Western/occidental origin who because of their being visibly white or Caucasian enjoy certain privileges or gain certain access which they have not earned or would normally not earn. Peggy McIntosh aptly defines white privilege as “invisible package of unearned assets” (1995: 23). She adds that it is akin to “an invisible weightless knapsack of special provisions, assurances, tools, maps, guides, codebooks, passports, visas, clothes, compass, emergency gear, and blank checks.” Whiteness or being white thus becomes as it has been for quite a long time, one of, if not, the most profitable forms of being a human being. Barbara Flagg explains this fact about whiteness when she says:

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Whiteness is, variously, a metaphor for power, a proxy for racially distributed material benefits, a synonym for “white supremacy,” an epistemological stance defined by power, a position of invisibility or ignorance, and a set of beliefs about racial “Others” and oneself that can be rejected through “treason” to a racial category. (Wildman 2005: 246)

An important assumption underlying white privilege as a deeply rooted ideology in Western thought is that whiteness is better than blackness. This assumption is so deeply rooted and entrenched as a universal pseudo truth that many black persons accept it without knowing it. The superiority of whiteness has been so inbuilt into the black personality that it is accepted without questioning and the few who question become suspects. The processes of internalization of white supremacy and the resulting privileges have been gradual but effective. They include Western scholarship dating back to the beginning of the Western history of thought but even more prominent since the so-called Enlightenment period in the works of Western scholars such as Kant, Hume, Hegel, and Voltaire, slavery, colonialism, and neocolonialism. Any attempt to discuss these literature, their disgust for anything black and their praise for anything white, is always difficult due to the anger and high emotions it raises. This makes it difficult for one to stay objective and logical in one’s analyses. It has been a history of racism, oppression, and marginalization of non-white races. But the consequences of the deeply entrenched ideology of whiteness are obvious today. Many African leaders still prefer whites to construct their roads, provide electricity, and provide other infrastructure and amenities even when there are many qualified black people to do it in African societies. It’s almost ingrained in African political leadership that the whites do it better, and it’s a pity that many Africans would read this sentence and whisper “but it’s true.” While African persons work so hard to get visas to the white folks’ land, whites often have the privilege of coming to African countries without needing a visa. In South Africa, while many black non-South Africans suffer xenophobia in their sister land, many white non-South Africans enjoy xenophilia. The list to such clear favoring of whites over blacks is long. Some whites have argued that they did not know they enjoy such privileges over other races; they did not, in fact, ask for it, the same way a black African would say she did not know she was a melaninprivileged African over persons with albinism and she did not ask for such privilege as well. Some have boldly come out after realizing that they do, to confront this monster of humanity in various ways (see Mclntosh 1995). But whatever the case may be, what remains clear is that whites enjoy privileges that blacks don’t simply because they are white, because there is the widely heard assumption that whites are better than blacks. Consequently, blacks have to fight for their rights, and this they have been doing even more since the twentieth century. The twentieth and twenty-first centuries saw a wave of revolutionary publications exposing the harm of white privileges over blacks and also fighting for the rights of black people. They include, to mention a few, David K. Leonard and Scott Straus’s Africa’s Stalled Development: International Causes and Cures (2003); William

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Easterly’s The White Man’s Burden (2006); Desmond Tutu’s No Future Without Forgiveness (1999); George B. N. Ayittey’s Africa in Chaos: A Comparative History (1999) and Africa Unchained: The Blueprint for Africa’s Future (2006); Basil Davidson’s The Black Man’s Burden: Africa and the Curse of the Nation-State (1993) and Africa in History (1995); Roland Oliver’s The African Experience (1991); Vincent B. Khapoya’s The African Experience: An Introduction (2009); David Birmingham’s The Decolonization of Africa (1996); J. Obi Oguejiofor’s Philosophy and the African Predicament (2001); Frantz Fanon’s The Wretched of the Earth (1963) and Black Skin, White Masks (1967); Edward M. Said’s Culture and Imperialism (1994); Walter Rodney’s How Europe Underdeveloped Africa (1968); Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart (1958); and the confiscated work of Albert Memmi since its first publication in 1957 entitled The Colonizer and the Colonized. These centuries also saw the agitations for the rights of black peoples through many black rights movements championed by activists such as Martin Luther King Jr., Malcolm X, Rosa Parks, W.E.B. Du Bois, and a host of others. Afrocentrism was born for the same purpose: championing the right of black people. The bottom line of these agitations was to show that a black person was no lesser of a person than a white person and should enjoy the same rights and privileges that whites enjoy. Blacks have thus fought very hard and continue to do so to earn their personhood and to show that both white and blacks deserve the same treatment as persons. The black struggle for rights will continue as long as there are still whites and even blacks who see persons of the black race as lesser persons or no persons in comparison to white persons.

African Men Versus African Women Let me begin this section by stating unambiguously that the attempt here to distinguish between African men and African women is in no way a distinction between persons and nonpersons as may be perceived in the instances of distinctions made in the last two sections. Following from the African theory of personhood, all African persons, male or female, that fulfill the ontological and normative conditions for personhood are indeed persons. Hence, the distinction I attempt to draw in this section may best be captured with the slogan: all persons are persons, but some are more personae than others. In African traditions, although men and women are seen as persons, the man is seen as privileged to have a form of personae that the woman lacks. The African man is, for instance, seen as ontologically privileged with strength and vigor and qualities for leadership and headship, things that the African woman ontologically or naturally lacks. This gender stereotyping of the personhood in both sexes is obvious even in modern Africa. It would explain why we have fewer women in African politics and business than men and fewer women who struggle and strive to establish and sustain themselves in a densely masculine political and economic space in Africa.

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Hence, many African communities are patriarchal communities where familial and social systems are controlled by men. As I explain elsewhere: The African man, in his familial and social relations, exercises headship. He acts as head over his family and he takes leading roles in the community. In familial relations, he exercises authority over his wife (or wives) and children. This headship, however, comes with its responsibilities. He provides food, shelter and other necessities for his family. A man unable to do so brings disgrace and shame to himself and his household and inevitably loses the respect of both family and community members. (Imafidon 2013: 25)

The privileges to lead and head that African men enjoy make them independent persons in whom women and children depend on. In other words: . . . men enjoy independent living while women are dependent on the men who lead. This is the reason a woman in African traditions is conventionally regarded as a “housewife”, that is, one who rather than working (conventionally seen as a manly duty) stays at home to manage the home. Even when she works or trades, the income from her work is used to assist the husband in sustaining the household. At no time does she become the head. (Imafidon 2013: 26)

As a reactionary measure, a number of African women today both at individual and group levels fight for their rights to have equal opportunities with African men in terms of taking the lead in social, economic, and political sectors and much less of the familial unit. We recall, for instance, the role the Nigerian novelist and writer, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, has played in this regard. Her works such as Purple Hibiscus (2003), Half of a Yellow Sun (2006), and We Should All Be Feminists (2014) have been central to the agitations for the liberation of African and AfricanAmerican women from African patriarchal systems. At the group level, there have been many feminist movements and organizations in the last four or so decades championing for the rights of women, rights they feel men enjoy and women are denied. The development of the controversial Charter of Feminist Principles for African Feminists by the African Feminist Forum (2006) is a case in point. What is clear from these attempts by individual women and women-focused organization is that African women are rising up to struggle for rights and privileges that were culturally and socially reserved for men such as being independent and taking the lead. And a number of African women has achieved this and are setting the pace in various spheres of life.

Conclusion The flaws and limitations in the African conceptions of personhood that can be deduced from our discourse thus far are to be found in its inability to envisage differences from its somewhat rigid criteria of personhood. It is almost like a round peg hole of personhood, and any sort of person that does not fit well into the hole due

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to being square-like, for instance, lacks personhood. On a positive note, the rigid account of personhood discussed above showcases the human spirit of resilience and struggle for a healthy individuality displayed by those considered different by human society. It shows the worth and value that a person could earn through a consistent struggle for what rightfully is a person’s: autonomy, dignity, integrity, and respect. Thus, whether society gives it to us or we fight for it ourselves, our worth as human persons should never be denied but should always be affirmed.

References Adams, E.M. 1982. The ground of human rights. American Philosophical Quarterly 19 (2): 191–196. Adeofe, L. 2004. In African Philosophy: New and Traditional Perspectives, ed. Lee M. Brown. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Appiah, K.A. 2004. Akan and Euro-American concepts of the person. In African philosophy: New and traditional perspectives, ed. Lee M. Brown. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Bujo, B. 2003. Foundations of an African ethic: Beyond the universal claims of western morality. Nairobi: Paulines Publications Africa. Dzobo, N.K. 1992. The image of man in Africa. In Person and community: Ghanaian philosophical studies, ed. K. Wiredu and K. Gyekye. Washington, DC: The Council for Research in Values and Philosophy. Gbadegesin, S. 2004. An outline of a theory of destiny. In African philosophy: New and traditional perspectives, ed. Lee M. Brown. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Gyekye, K. 1984. The Akan concept of a person. In African philosophy: An introduction, ed. R.A. Wright. Lanham: University Press of America. Gyekye, K. 1992. Person and community in African thought. In Person and community: Ghanaian philosophical studies, ed. K. Wiredu and K. Gyekye. Washington, DC: The Council for Research in Values and Philosophy. Idowu, B. 1962. Olodumare: God in Yoruba belief. New Jersey: Prentice Hall Press. Imafidon, E. 2012. The concept of person in an African culture and its implication for social order. Lumina: Journal of Interdisciplinary Studies 23–2: 78–96. Imafidon, E. 2013. Miss independent: Gender and Independence on the African continent. Inkanyiso: The Journal of Humanities and Social Science 5 (1): 21–30. Imafidon, E. 2018. African philosophy and the otherness of albinism: White skin, black race. London: Routledge. Mbiti, J. 1969. African religions and philosophy. London: Heinemann Publishers. Mclntosh, P. 1995. White privilege and male privilege: A personal account of coming to see correspondences through work in women studies. In Power, privilege and law: A civil rights reader, ed. L. Bender and D. Braveman. Minnesota: West Publishing Company. Menkiti, I.A. 1984. Person and community in African traditional thought. In African philosophy: An introduction, ed. R.A. Wright. Lanham: University Press of America. Ndubuisi, F.N. 2004. A conception of man in an African communalism. In Metaphysics, phenomenology and African philosophy, ed. J.I. Unah. Lagos: FADEC Publishers. Oladipo, O. 1992. The Yoruba concept of a person: An analytico-philosophical study. International Studies in Philosophy 24 (3): 15. Onah, G.I. 2002. The universal and the particular in Wiredu’s philosophy of human nature. In The third way in African philosophy: Essays in Honour of Kwasi Wiredu, ed. O. Oladipo. Ibadan: Hope Publications. Oyeshile, O.A. 2006a. The physical and non-physical in Yoruba concept of the person. Philosophia De Sellentt 35 (2).

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Oyeshile, O.A. 2006b. The individual-community relationship as an issue in social and political philosophy. In Core issues in African philosophy, ed. O. Oladipo. Ibadan: Hope Publications. Ozumba, G.O. 2004. African traditional metaphysics. Quodlibet Journal 6 (3). Retrieved Jun 15, 2005, from http://www.Quodlibet.net. Sogolo, G. 1993. Foundations of African philosophy: A definitive analysis of conceptual issues in African thought. Ibadan: Ibadan University Press. Wildman, S. 2005. The persistence of white privilege. Journal of Law and Policy 18: 245–265. Wiredu, K. 1992. Death and after life in African culture. In Person and community: Ghanaian philosophical studies, ed. K. Wiredu and K. Gyekye. Washington, DC: The Council for Research in Values and Philosophy.

Justice and the Othered Minority Lessons from African Communalism

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Philosophizing the Notion of “the Other” and “Othering” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Othering and Human Peaceful Coexistence . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Justice and Othering . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Communalism and Otherness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

There are minority groups in every human society, which are often leftovers of the “one” major group of persons within such society viewed as the self-contained group that has nothing to do with the “other” minority groups. The Other is conventionally seen as a threat to the one. Othering within societies invariably results in the exclusion of the Other from the one. By Othering, we mentally or practically classify an individual or group as “not one of us” and, therefore, inferior or less a human person than we are, a process of casting another person, group, or object into a position or role different from mine or ours, and I or we consequently establish my or our identity in opposition to the Other person in a relationship of superiority that allows me or us vilify the Other. Through Othering, we create a system of social exclusion that systematically blocks the Othered minority individual or group from rights and opportunities that are fundamentally the prerogative of all. Hence, issues of justice for the Othered minority naturally arise. This is manifested in the xenophobic treatment of African foreigners in South Africa and

A. K. Jimoh (*) Department of Philosophy, SS. Peter and Paul Major Seminary, Ibadan, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_12

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Christian minority groups in the mainly Muslim North of Nigeria. The socially excluded is confined to the fringe of society as the minority, whose basic and fundamental rights become privileges by virtue of the Otherness. This chapter critically analyzes and evaluates the manner of othering and exclusion of minority groups in African societies. My primary concern is to examine the role of African communitarian theory in the face of Othering in African societies. I argue that our constant awareness and acknowledgment of our commonness beyond selfcontained groups ensures justice and equity in our interpersonal relationships in any human society. Keywords

Othering · Justice · Xenophobia · Globalization · African communalism

Introduction The empirical manifestation of differences in the global world at large and African societies in particular requires a critical analysis, especially within the context of well-known African communitarianism. Every human person is a composite of emotions, ideas, motivations, reflexes, priorities, etc. These vary in degrees as individuals differ by virtue of environmental, social, psychological, and mental abilities. These differentiations do not make an individual a lesser person than the “Other” individual. “Othering,” which is a concept that encapsulates the phenomenon of differentiations, invariably results in the exclusion of the “Othered.” It negates the fact that human differentiations do not ontologically imply one lesser or inferior individual to another superior individual. It classifies persons in society into the minority and the majority. Often, the minority groups are treated as inferior, and their fundamental rights are considered privileges by the majority group. Aside the issues of justice herein, such classifications have resulted to violent conflicts in form of ethnic and religious clashes. Specific cases would be the xenophobic treatment of African foreigners, especially Nigerians, in South African and the rancorous relationship between the Christian minority groups in the mainly Muslim North of Nigeria. In this chapter, I shall critically explore the concept of Othering, the question of justice in relation to Othering, and the implication of Othering for human coexistence. The aim is to examine the role of African communitarianism in the phenomenon of Othering. My argument is that our constant awareness and acknowledgment of our commonness beyond the self-contained groups ensures justice and equity in our interpersonal relationships in any human society. For a systematic presentation, therefore, this chapter is divided into four main sections: (i) a philosophical theorization of the notion of Othering, (ii) the implication of Othering for human peaceful coexistence, (iii) the injustice of Othering, and (iv) African communitarianism and Othering.

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Philosophizing the Notion of “the Other” and “Othering” The “Other” could be an individual, religious group, gender group, race, sexual minority, or nation. Essentially, Othering casts the “Other” into a role that is often a lesser or inferior one; thus, it is a superior/inferior distinction. It connotes denigration and scapegoating by denying the Other the basic characteristics that make her the “Same.” These include reason, dignity, love, pride heroism, nobility, and ultimately human rights. The differentiation instantiated by Othering establishes a group’s (or individual’s) own identity against another group (or individual) through opposing the other group or individual in a manner that vilifies the “Other.” An example of this is the ancient Greeks’ classification of non-Greeks as “barbarian.” (cf. Harrison 2002). This typical example of Othering continues to manifest itself in different forms throughout human history to present day civilization. Othering is a systematic distinction between “the Us” and “the Them,” which creates the grounds for the Other to be exploited and oppressed. It is a process by which “the Us” differentiate themselves from “the Them,” a form of reductive action in which an individual or group is labelled and conceived as a subordinate social category. The Othered is excluded as unfit to belong according to the norm of the social group. By social group, I mean two or more people who interact with one another because they share same characteristics and, therefore, have a collective sense of unity (Turner 1982, 15–40). Othering is a twenty-first-century problem that undergirds territorial disputes, sectarian violence, military conflict; spreads disease, hunger, and food insecurity; and implicates climate change (Sassen 2014, 149–151). Othering includes various expressions of prejudice based on group identities to propagate inequality and marginality. The most noticeable expressions are in racism and ethnocentrism, a situation in which persons of different races and cultures are evaluated on preconceived standards and customs of one’s own race and culture and adjudged inferior and, therefore, subjugated. John Powell and Stephen Menedian (2016) define Othering as “a set of dynamics, processes, and structures that engender marginality and persistent inequality across any of the full range of human differences based on group identities.” Although, they do not consider the dynamics, processes, and structures referred to here as universal, they consider the core mechanisms by which they engender marginality as largely similar across contexts. In other words, while their axes of differences vary contextually, they involve similar set of underlying dynamics. Othering is expressed in a variety of ways. These include among others religion, sex, race, ethnicity, socioeconomic status, disability, sexual orientation, and skin tone. They all share similar broadly inclusive conceptual framework that captures various expressions of prejudice and behaviors which include, but go beyond, atavism and tribalism. For example, religion, sex, and exclusionary norms of gender-based Othering transcend tribes, ethnicity, culture, and races; yet they are active expressions of Othering. This chapter is particularly interested in the Othering based on religion and ethnicity as they relate to the Muslim-Christian clashes in Northern Nigeria and xenophobia in South Africa, respectively.

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Othering is initiated in different ways. It could arise from an encounter between civilizations that hitherto had no previous knowledge of each other, like the discovery of the New World by Christopher Columbus. Within a few years, the native or indigenous inhabitants of the New World were enslaved through torture and killing; their culture and civilization was despoiled, desecrated, and destroyed, the underlying issue being the conception that the natives were not of the same species as their conquerors. Aside arising from initial encounter between two traditions, culture and civilization, Othering can also be the product of two groups that are quite familiar with each other, even lived peacefully in close proximity for centuries. The Bosnia cleansing and the Rwandan genocide and, in more recent times, the xenophobic attacks in South Africa and the now perennial religious insurgences in Northern Nigeria are typical examples. Otherness as the characteristics of the Other connotes being different from the social identity of a person; it is identifying with the self in opposition to the Other (Miller 2008, 588–591). This conception is espoused in Simone De Beauvoir’s The Second Sex (1949); “the Other,” which for De Beauvoir is the second, is a construction in opposition to the self, vice versa. As Powell and Menedian (2016) aver, “studies since the 1950s demonstrate the tendency of people to identify with whom they are grouped, no matter how arbitrary or even silly the group boundaries may be, and to judge members of their own group as superior.” According to researchers in mind sciences, human beings naturally tend toward categorical distinctions, even though the categories that emerge from these distinctions and the meanings that are associated with them are socially determined. Thus, Douglas Massey states that “human beings are cognitively programmed to form conceptual categories and use them to classify the people they counter” (2007, 242). Some of the fundamental factors that contribute to this cognitive programming include our environments and social contexts; they prime us to observe particular differences and prescribe for us which differences are important and which ones are not. Associations that evolve from such human classifications are descriptive and transmit social meanings that guide how we navigate our social worlds (Powell and Menedian 2016). Sociologists, in the 1950s, postulated the theory of “group position” to explain how race prejudices develop. Herbert Blumer (1958) thus expresses it as follows: Through talk, tales, stories, gossip, anecdotes, pronouncements, news accounts, orations, sermons, preachments, and the like, definitions are presented and feelings expressed . . . If the interaction becomes increasingly circular and reinforcing, devoid of serious inner opposition, such currents grow, fuse, and become strengthened. It is through such a process that a collective image of a subordinate group is formed, and a sense of group position is set.

By implication, boundaries and meanings assigned to group definitions result from complex collective and social processes. They are not products of individual bias or interactions. Therefore, group-based identities and the meanings assigned to them evolve simultaneously from a complex social process of interactions rather than an orderly, sequential process (Powell and Menedian 2016). Once group-based

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identities are established, they become fundamental and affect our perception of the groups involved. Even though the notion of Othering was first coined by Gayari C. Spivak as a systematic theoretical concept, it draws on several philosophical and theoretical traditions (Jensen 2011, 64), traceable to the Hegelian master-slave dialectics. The latter is often understood as a theory of self and other where the self is constituted against the other. Lajos Brons very lucidly articulates the influence of Hegel on the notion of Othering when he states that: Under the influence of Hegel. . . and Freud. . ., ‘the other’ became a central, albeit rather polymorphous theme in much 20th century French philosophy. The concept of ‘the other’ has been used (therein) to designate a range of rather different but interrelated ideas that are not always (clearly) distinguished. (2015, 74)

The French existentialist, De Beauvoir, draws largely on the Hegelian notion to articulate her position on how men are considered the norm against women who are considered as the Other. She argues that women are only conscious of themselves according to the characterization given to them by men, which constitutes the Otherness of women and produces a subjectivity (cf. Hughes and Witz 1997, 49). On the basis of her theorization, she develops a theory of self and other to argue gender and hierarchical social differentiations (Hughes and Witz 1997, 16). According to her, “the category of the Other is as fundamental as consciousness itself. . .otherness is a fundamental category of human thought. No group ever defines itself without simultaneously posting the Other facing itself” (1949, 18). Emmanuel Levinas had earlier presented a critical ethical position that differs from that of De Beauvoir. For Levinas (1948), “the other” is another individual, mind, or body that is mostly not known to the interpreting self. This understanding overturns the Western notion of a paradigmatic relation between the self and the Other, where the other plays no significant role or its reduced to a faceless enemy (Brons 2015, 74). Elsewhere, Levinas (1979) considers the Western conceptualization a solipsistic negation of the Other based on a repugnance for the proximity of the other. The latter is consequent upon the antipathy for the inaccessibility of the Other by the self. Therefore, in Levinas’ understanding, the Other is “a neighbour, and the self is constituted in its relation with that other-as-neighbour” (Brons 2015, 74). Edward Said conceives Otherness in terms of imaginary geography that is reductionistic, distancing, and pathologizing. Using the Orient and Europe as case study, he argues that “the Orient is incorporated and fixed, as the function of orientalism” (cf. Jensen 2011, 64). This is characterizing “the Orient as alien and to incorporate it schematically on a theoretical stage whose audience, managers and actors are for Europe, and only for Europe” (Said 1978, 71–72). Said’s Orientalism “combines a notion of ‘the other’ with exocticism, the commercial exploitation of constructed otherness, to analyse the Occidental picture of the Orient” (Brons 2015, 74). The West considered the Orient as “the others” who are to be studied by them (the West). The Orient are basically opposite, inferior, and passive; they are to be ruled and dominated by the West, who are considered superior and active. Such a

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consideration unveils the realization that we define ourselves through the Other and understand ourselves within the context of what we are not (Kitzinger and Wilkinson 1996, 8). Jacques Lacan provided an abstract theoretical explication of Otherness in which he conceives “the other as something (more than someone) outside of and/or in some way opposed to the self” (Brons 2015, 74). Lacan’s idea brings two important points to the fore: (i) the central role of language in constituting identity and (ii) the fact that identity is fundamentally gained in the gaze of the powerful (Gingrich 2004, 11). According to Lacan, we form the ego in our early stages of development as children, when we contemplate our faces in a mirror. We recognize ourselves as an Other against the consciousness of the subject. This is, thereafter, sustained in the recognition of the Other against our self-consciousness. Louis Althusser explains this with the concept of interpellation, which is an ideological notion in Marxist theory. Interpellation refers to how major social and political institutions constitute the identities of individual subjects by “hailing” them into social interactions (1971, 11). Here, individuals are structured by ideology to occupy specific subject positions, which confers identity on them (Jensen 2011, 64). Lawrence Cahoone summarizes the notion of “the Other” in postmodernist literature and theoretical context as “the apparent identity of what appear to be cultural units . . . maintained only through constitutive repression, an active process of exclusion, opposition, and hierarchization” (2003, 11). In other words, Othering implies a hierarchical dualism in which the first is privileged or favored and the Other is deprivileged or devalued. Often, the process is veiled in such a way that the hierarchical dualism is assumed to be inherent rather than something constructed. Inferring from the foregoing theorizations, Spivak describes Othering as a multidimensional process, which consists in several forms of social differentiations. This can be understood as, or in conjunction with the notion of intersectionality, interlocking systems of oppression. Kimberié Crenshaw (1991) coined the term intersectionality as an analytical framework to describe bias and violence against black women; it explains how interlocking systems of power impact on the most marginalized in the society. According to her, intersectionality is a lens through which we comprehend where power comes and collides and where power interlocks and intersects. It considers class, race, sexual orientation, disability, and gender as various aspects of humanity that exist together in a complexly interwoven process. For Spivak, Othering is classed, raced, and gendered. It “concerns the consequences of racism, sexism, class (or combination hereof) in terms of symbolic degradation as well as the process of identity formation related to this degradation” (Jensen 2011, 65). Identity formation in Othering “assumes that subordinate people are offered, and at the same time relegated to, subject positions as others in discourse. In these processes, it is the centre that has power to describe, and the other is constructed as inferior” (Jensen 2011, 65). Contemporary literature on Othering fundamentally builds on Spivak’s conception. For instance, Mette Andersson considers Othering as a process of racialization (2010, 7). For Ruth Lister, it is the “process of differentiation and demarcation, by which the line is drawn between ‘us’ and ‘them’ – between the more and the less

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powerful – and through which social distance is established and maintained” (2004, 101). Michael Schwalbe elucidates this understanding when he describes Othering as “the defining into existence of a group of people who are identifiable, from the standpoint of a group with the capacity to dominate, as inferior” (2000, 777). In this process, a dominant group defines into existence another group that is considered inferior (Schwalbe et al. 2000, 422); the inferiority extends to the moral and intellectual aspects of the Other. Therefore, the Other becomes a stereotype and are ultimately dehumanized (Lister 2004, p. 102). These various conceptualizations present Othering as a reductionism that essentially lowers or diminishes the Othered to some negative characteristics. On this basis, Jensen defines Othering as: [The] discursive processes by which powerful groups, who may or may not make up a numerical majority, define subordinate groups into existence in a reductionist way which ascribe problematic and/or inferior characteristics to these subordinate groups. Such discursive processes affirm the legitimacy and superiority of the powerful and condition identity formation among the subordinate. (Jensen 2011, 65)

This definition captures the sense in which I employ the concept of Othering in this chapter, a system of social exclusion that brings about imbalance of power. The Othered is considered a threat and as such blocked off and deprived of fundamental rights and privileges that are the prerogative of all. The Othered, considered as a threat, is fenced off, discriminated against, and made to feel unwanted, except she contents with being the second fiddle. Such a situation precipitates issues of justice as the Othered is fundamentally denied rights and fairness. This is the case with the xenophobic attacks in South Africa and the rancorous relationship between the minority Christians and the majority Muslims in Northern Nigeria.

Othering and Human Peaceful Coexistence As the hundred-day genocidal rampage by majority Hutu against the minority Tutsi of Rwanda demonstrated to the world, Othering has a dangerous implication for our peaceful coexistence as human beings. It plants a seed of toxic hatred among individuals and groups, who, otherwise, could and should coexist in harmony and peace. It breeds harmful discriminations among individuals and groups and creates boundaries that are inscribed in our minds. Consciously and unconsciously these boundaries manifest in the world as they inform our decisions and thereby affect our behavior (Krieger 1995). The ubiquity of Othering makes its expressions vary across time and space. The xenophobic attacks in South Africa and the rancorous relationship between the minority Christians and the majority Muslims in Northern Nigeria are case studies of the implication of othering for human peaceful coexistence. Xenophobia in South Africa as a Case of Othering: Xenophobia is the fear and distrust for what is considered strange and foreign. A situation in which we are

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suspicion of the activities of the Other such that we generate the desire to eliminate the presence of the Other in an attempt to secure our purity and identity. It exalts one’s culture with exotic, stereotyped, and unreal qualities (Bolaffi 2003, 332). Although they do not exactly mean the same thing, xenophobia and racism are often confused and used interchangeably. Racism does not have a single definition in contemporary times; it, however, generally refers to the belief that one race is superior to another and the consequent discrimination against the conceived inferior race. It is the “belief that humans are subdivided into distinct groups that are different in their social behaviour and innate capacities and that can be ranked as superior or inferior” (Newman 2012, 405). On the other hand, xenophobia is distinguished by opposition to foreign culture and not necessarily to people of another race. The confusion between both concepts arises from the possibility that people who share the same national origin may also belong to the same race. Following its Greek roots, the Oxford English Dictionary (2004) defines it as “deep-rooted fear towards foreigners.” We may describe xenophobia as a kind of new racism that discriminates against the Other based on nationality or ethnicity. Recently, there has been a wave of xenophobic attacks against makwerekweres (a derogatory term used for foreigners) in South Africa. These attacks, far from being sporadic, are the consequences of long-simmering anti-migrant sentiments which have steadily increased in the country since the 1990s. With the collapse of apartheid South Africa, the country’s borders became open to foreign migration. Dissatisfied with failed democracy promises, many South Africans directed the blame to foreigners, attributing the lack of employment and scarce resources to foreigners rather than the whites or the government (Bridger 2015). The fear or hatred of foreigners has a long history in South Africa. It can be dated back to the 1914 looting of Britishowned shops by poor Afrikaners (Giliomee 2003, 383). Apartheid South Africa was strategically isolated from the rest of the world. There was censorship of information and global culture by her apartheid leaders. Leaders of other nations restricted economic ties and applied cultural and sporting sanctions against the apartheid government. In schools, students were taught selective history, which left them largely unaware of the history and politics of other countries. The resulting ignorance from the latter has contributed to the present hostilities toward foreigners (Morris 1998, 11–25). During the apartheid era, South Africa was considered an exception in the African continent because of the European population and level of civilization. It was considered different from the supposedly homogenous, dark, and undifferentiated Africa. Although apartheid has ended, there is no much shift in this thinking as there are still frequent derogatory references to other African countries whose nationals are blamed for the country’s high rate of crime. Furthermore, apartheid created a deep line of division between South Africans as the apartheid system was built on ridged divisions between those who belonged and those who did not (Bridger 2015). Violence was the common way of policing the boundaries of exclusionary citizenship. This subsequently fostered a culture that considered violence as a legitimate means of resolving conflicts, gaining power, and inflicting punishment. Such culture seems to have become a default position in moments of pressure as it is still commonly used to separate the “Us”

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from the “Them.” Thus, historically, South Africans are poised toward disliking persons of other nationalities. The worsening situation of xenophobic violence in South Africa since 1994 is attributed to: The country’s violent past, inadequate service delivery and the influence of micro politics in townships, involvement and complicity of local authority members in contractor conflicts for economic and political reasons, failure of early warning and prevention mechanism regarding community-based violence; and also local residents claims that foreigners took jobs opportunities away from local South Africans and they accept lower wages, foreigner do not participate in the struggle for better wages and working conditions. Other local South Africans claim that foreigners are criminals, and they should not have access to services and police protection. Foreigners are also blamed for their businesses that take away customers from local residents and the spread of diseases such as HIV/AIDS. Other South Africans do not particularly like the presence of refugees, asylum-seekers or foreigners in the communities. (“Xenophobic violence in democratic South Africa”)

The high level of industrialization of South Africa makes it attractive to foreigners, especially African foreigners, who seek greener pastures. The influx of such migrants puts pressure on the available resources and, therefore, generates competition. This often translates to dislike of non-nationals on the part of the recipient state. It leads to profiling people and insinuating negative assumptions based on nationality. From 1994 to 2015, there was a steady progression on documented cases of xenophobic attacks in South African townships. Victims of these attacks were mostly African foreigners from Congo, Somalia, Senegal, Mozambique, Zimbabwe, and Nigeria among others. Irrespective of these explanations that allude to economic crises, political transition, relative deprivation, and apartheid, all of which contain some truth but not sufficient, Hussein Solomon and Hitomi Kosaka insist that “the most important reasons behind the prevalence of xenophobia in South Africa are economic and the tendency to criminalise foreigners” (2013, 26). The basic cause of xenophobia is the misguided sense that foreigners constitute a threat to the identity and individual rights of the recipients. Issues about the rights of foreign nationals and the safety of living in South Africa naturally arise from such violence against them. Thus, xenophobia is a social justice issue that cannot be neglected. It “undermines social cohesion, peaceful co-existence, and good governance, and constitutes a violation of human rights” (Solomon and Kosaka 2013, 6). Social justice issues are not selective, such that we support social justice for some and not for others. As human beings, irrespective of ethnicity and/or culture, we all have basic fundamental rights based on our human nature. One of such rights is freedom from discrimination. To trample on anyone of our basic fundamental human rights is to perpetrate injustice against human nature. Christian-Muslim Relations in Northern Nigeria: Nigeria is “currently battling so many religious and ethno religious conflicts that has created toxicity and mutual distrust between Muslim and Christian communities” (Quadri 2015). There are, of course, many parts of Africa that suffer currently from deteriorating relations between Muslims and Christians. Nigeria’s case, however, seems more obvious.

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Since the 1990s, the conflicts between Muslims and Christians in Northern Nigeria have worsened and become violent and deadly. It is quite a complex situation that some trace back to the British colonialist venture in Nigeria (Smith 2015, 7). The Sokoto Caliphate was captured in 1903 and made the Northern Protectorate by the British colonialist. In 1960 it became part of the independent Federal Republic of Nigeria. The dominant group and leadership were Muslims, while the ethnic minority Christians were Christians. According to Taiye Adamolekun, Islam and Christianity coexisted peacefully prior to the birth of modern Nigeria with the 1914 amalgamation of the Northern and Southern Protectorates by Sir Frederick Lord Lugard. Both religions competed for converts from traditional religion, although the competition was cutthroat, but it was peaceful as both religions tolerate each other believing that family solidarity was more important than that of religion (2013, 59). However, with the objection of some Muslims to Christian evangelization in 1991 that turned violent, the relationship between the majority Muslim and minority Christian communities has become rancorous, sometimes characterized with orgies of killing and looting (Smith 2015, 7). Militant Islamic fundamentalism, which is largely responsible for the rancor that has deepened between the Muslims and Christians in Northern Nigeria, began in the early 1980s. Militant Islamic groups perpetrated atrocities that destabilized particularly the northern part of Nigeria. These include: The Maitasine uprising in Kano city in December 1980, the Bulunkutu uprising in Maiduguri in October 1982, the various religious riots in Kaduna in October 1982, Jimeta, Yola riots [in] 1984, Kastina riot, Gombe riot [in] 1985, the Kafanchan riots, Tafawa Balewa, Zango Kataf and the violent demonstrations in Sabon-Gari, Kano by Muslim Students Society (MSS) in October 1992 . . . All these series of riots were characterised as religious crises or conflict aimed at purifying religion. (Adamolekun 2013, 62)

Matthew Kukah (1993) asserts that these religious crises, especially the Kafanchan crisis in Kaduna state, were a turning point in the relations between Christian minority communities and the majority Muslim communities. No gainsaying that the rancorous relationship between the Muslim majority and Christian minority Northern Nigeria is an expression of a form of Othering, which the British colonial policy of Indirect Rule worsened. According to Moses Ochonu (2014), the Indirect Rule policy is: A divide-and-rule system that required sharp ethno-religious differentiation among Nigerians, made religion and ethnicity preeminent markers of identity and pushed exclusionary identity politics into the political arena. As a result, in Northern Nigeria, minority ethnic groups, mostly Christians, defined and still define themselves against the Muslim Hausa-Fulani majority rubric of Middle Belt, which is usually a stand-in for “non-Muslim.”

The consciousness of the other as inferior and, therefore, should be subjugated is prominently expressed in the intolerance of the Christian minority communities by the Muslim majority. The implementation of the sharia law in the northern states of Nigeria testifies to this, as it disregards the rights and freedom of non-Muslims to ways of life outside the framework of Islamic religious legislations. Thus, the

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freedom of religion of the minority Christian communities is trampled upon. Citizens of the same nationality, and even same ethnicity and culture, are treated as inferior because they profess a different faith from the majority Muslim communities. Their safety in their fatherland is endangered; their means of livelihood is destroyed as it happens with Fulani herdsmen burning farm products and grazing their cattle on the farm of locals in the attacked communities.

Justice and Othering Justice is a concept that occupies a central place in societal life, and it cuts across issues in ethics and legal and political philosophy. According to John Rawls, it is “the first virtue of social institutions” (1999, 3), which implies that the appropriateness of social institutions depends on issues of justice. Justice is a property of individuals and institutions derived from the law, which makes it a wide range concept with roots in all aspects of human life and coexistence. Therefore, it takes different forms and applies in different ways in different situations (Miller 2017). It takes different understanding depending on the philosophical affiliation and perspective of the conceptualizer. However, irrespective of the conceptualization, it narrows down to administering fairness. Fairness is a synonym for giving everyone their dues. Thus, justice is both the disposition and the act of moral rightness or virtue of character and a desirable quality of political society (Pomerleau, “Western Theories of Justice”). Othering is a form of social exclusion that denies the Other of fundamental rights and privileges. Therefore, it is a perpetration of injustice. Othering implies that “the Other” is treated as less deserving, less worthy of respect, and not entitled to protection. The Other is treated differently by the surrounding community and, in some cases, by the law. Every human being has fundamental rights that are inalienable. These include the rights to self-determination, liberty, freedom of movement, freedom of religion, freedom from discrimination, and freedom of association among others. These are privileges and entitlements individuals have as human beings. They are not depended on one’s race, nationality, ethnicity, and religion. So, denial of these basic human rights is tantamount to denial of justice. The phenomenon of Othering is essentially based on self-protection and selfpreservation against imaginary fears, which may be existent or nonexistent. Supposing that these fears are real, it still does not justify discrimination or exclusion of the Other, as it does not guarantee the protection and preservation of the self. To deny someone freedom as a human person is to demeaning the person’s humanity, causing her to lose her dignity and respect. This is against the philosophy of communalism that emphasizes the connection between the individual and the community. Communalism is the belief that community relationships mold the identity and personality of the individual while not necessarily negating her individuality. This belief is central to the African ontological world view and understanding of the human person. In principle, it negates the exclusionary inclination of othering.

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African Communalism and Otherness Here, I use African communalism and African communitarianism interchangeably. My interest here is to establish the meaning of African communalism and its role in the system of Othering. Therefore, the questions of consideration are: What is African communitarian theory or Afro-communitarianism? What role should it play in the system of Othering? The African communitarian theory (ACT) emphasizes our duties as human beings toward one another based on the African concept of the person. The latter, which is a central theme in African metaphysics, consists in what makes the individual human being a person. This is usually analyzed from two perspectives: the descriptive approach, which analyzes the constituent parts of the human person, and the narrative approach, which explicates the social status of the human person (Jimoh 2016, 94–97). The narrative approach elucidates the ACT, which is fundamental to the discourse of this chapter. According to David Lutz, the non-individualistic notion of the human person is one of the most striking features of the sub-Sahara Africa culture (2009, 313–328). The individual is a communal being whose personality evolves from relations with other human and living beings; they live, not just in a state of independence but as members of a community, in relationships and interdependence with others. Thus, John Mbiti argues that we are conscious of our being only in relation to other beings and, as such, we are aware of our responsibilities, duties, and privileges to ourselves and others (1969, 108–109). N. K. Dzobo (1992) reiterates the same submission, which in my opinion shares the same underlying assumption that girds the process of Othering in the influential Hegelian dialectics of “self and the other.” Herein, the self is constituted in relation to the Other. However, it does not share the consequential submission of the self being opposed to the Other, but rather, it is akin to Levinas’ notion of the other as neighbor. I argued elsewhere, drawing from Friday Ndubuisi (2004) and Olatunji Oyeshile (2006), that the person is communitarian by nature because she interacts and interpenetrates with others by exercising her attributes of rationality, capacity for virtue, and freedom of choice. These are individual attributes not bestowed by the community but that the person develops through the community (Jimoh 2016, 98). Kwame Gyekye avers that the communitarian nature of the individual has multiple expressions, which include the necessity of community life and the interdependency of the individual who is naturally oriented toward others (1992, 104). The consensus of scholars in available literature is that African cultural orientation esteem “communal values like mutual aid, care and concern for others, interdependence, solidarity, reciprocal obligation and social harmony” (Jimoh 2016, 98). These enhance communitarianism and prime the individual to internalize societal communal values. It would be misleading to infer that the communal character of African worldview subordinates the individuality of the human person like Marxist collectivism does. On the contrary, individuals recognize and attain their own true good by promoting that of others (Lutz 2009, 314). Despite strong community consciousness, the rights of individuals and their existence as independent entities are not neglected; they are guaranteed free speech, free movement, and free action (Ike

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and Edozien 2001, 155). We find this same point in Gyekye’s comment that “community does not obliterate or squeeze out individuality” (1996, 32). Gyekye’s strong defense of the ACT, which speaks to the theme of this chapter, is a moderate communitarianism that accommodates rights. This has been lucidly articulated by Motsamai Molefe (2017). According to him: [Gyekye] is most famous for his defence of “moderate communitarianism” (MC). I [Molefe] understand MC as a normative political theory; it defends a consequentialist principle of right action grounded on fundamental norms of the common good and dignity. This normative political theory is an attempt to proffer a plausible Afro-communitarianism that has a place for rights. MC is a response to what Gyekye considers an extreme form of communitarianism in the African tradition, which has no place for rights. He insists that a plausible communitarianism has to find a place for rights. (2017, 182)

Interpreting Gyekye’s moderate communitarianism further, Molefe argues that while Gyekye exalts Afro-communitarian ethos that prizes communal values, he calls for “a dynamic balance between the demands of a communitarian ethos and the liberal regime of rights in light of the demands of modernisation and modernity” (2017, p. 182). Moderate communitarianism provides a place for common good and rights, which is an interplay between the duties to promote common good while not putting aside rights. Common good refers to the notion that the “good of all determines the good of each . . . the welfare of each is dependent on the welfare of all. [It] requires that the individual should work for the good of all, which of course includes her good” (Gyekye 1995, 156). Common good is shared by all individuals, and within the communitarian scheme, the individual finds the highest good in its material, moral, and spiritual dimensions, as she relates with others working toward the good of all. Therefore, we achieve the highest good for the human person when we work for the common good. The common good is fundamentally associated with human good. Dignity, on the other hand, is our human feature to recognize the equality of all that entitles each one of us as human beings to moral respect and rights. It is “the capacity for self-assertion which the individual can exercise, presupposes, and in fact derives from, the autonomous nature of the person” (Gyekye 1992, 112). Autonomy, which is intrinsically valuable for every human being, is our rational will to selfgovern and self-direct our actions. It is the individuality of the individual, which communitarianism does not usurp. Moderate communitarianism as a moral-political theory is grounded on two fundamental moral norms: the common good and dignity (Molefe 2017, 185). Common good attunes us to our duties toward the well-being of all, while rights ensure our dignity is preserved as all individuals receive the basic moral respect that is their due. The idea is contrasted to radical communitarianism, which is the view that “gives exaggerated conception of the community, wherein the community is construed as always prior to the individual and this conception of the community fails to recognise the individuality of the individual and the rights that naturally belong to a human person insofar as a person is essentially autonomous” (Gyekye 1992, 108). The implication of such a radical conception of communitarianism is

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that it over estimates the role of the community to the point in which it undermines the individual’s intrinsic worth. Moderate communitarianism, on the contrary, balances this excessive emphasis to reflect a dynamic equilibrium between the individual and the community (Molefe 2017, 186). Therefore, the rightness or wrongness of an action depends on whether it maximally promotes the common good without a violation of the dignity of the human beings and vice versa. Radical communitarianism, which is the classical understanding of African communalism, could be exploited to justify cases of Othering like the xenophobia in South Africa. This would be a situation in which a community tries to defend and protect itself and members against perceived “nonintegral members” of the community, where the latter are foreigners of other nationalities. By nonintegral members, I specifically mean individuals considered as outsiders based on their different culture or nationality. Where the common good of the community is exaggerated over the dignity and human rights of the individual, there would be violation of human dignity in an attempt to promote such common good. In this sense, we can argue that the classical notion of African communitarianism has not clearly drawn the line as it relates to rights and dignity of all irrespective of nationality or culture. Therefore, in subtle ways, it encourages and justifies Othering cases like xenophobia. On the other hand, moderate communitarianism is “grounded on our obligation to ensure the quality of life for all human beings – the common good; but in our quest to promote such a life, we should never trample the dignity of a human being” (Molefe 2017, 189). To promote the good of all human beings in such a way as to violate the dignity of some human beings is not acceptable in a plausible communitarian theory. Dignity serves as a constraint as well as serves to ground rights (Molefe 2017, 189–190). Thus, Gyekye emphasizes that to suppose “that communitarianism will have no place or very little, if at all, for rights will be false” (1992, 114). The moderate ACT would not accommodate Othering like the cases of the xenophobia in South Africa, neither would it tolerate the rancor between the majority Muslim and minority Christian in Northern Nigeria. These two cases demonstrate infringement on the dignity and rights of the Othered minority as their fundamental rights are trampled upon and even the common good of all is negated for the good of some. The minority status of the Othered is not a reduction in their human dignity and, therefore, does not delimit their rights. Numeric number, nationality, or anything else does not constitute a factor in the humanity of any human being. Rights that guarantee the dignity of human beings are intrinsic to our human nature and, therefore, inalienable.

Conclusion Powell and Menedian (2016) have argued that the only viable solution to Othering must consist of inclusion and belongingness. Belongingness is an unwavering commitment to tolerance, acceptability, and respect for differences; it is a welcome for all people in such a way that they feel themselves as part and parcel of the society. Belongingness humanizes the Other and challenges and rejects negative

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representations and stereotypes. It brings marginalized out-groups into the center of societal concern. True practice of belongingness goes beyond just being expressive to be institutionalized. The ACT captures this noble idea of inclusion and belongingness. Therefore, I strongly hold that African communalism provides some lessons on the issue of justice and Othered minority. I made a case elsewhere for African communitarianism against the individualism and selfishness that I considered to be tearing Nigeria apart in recent times. I argued that individualism is antithetical to African communalism; therefore, we require “commitment to common good and interest, understanding of our individual place in the chain or reality, in which we mutually complement each other and define our being” (Jimoh 2017, 45). This will contribute to tackling the injustice occasioned by Othering. Most contemporary literature eulogizes globalization, and, indeed, it is a progressive factor in human civilization; nonetheless, it has its own baggage of negative implications for our African culture of communitarianism. Globalization here refers to “the interdependence of countries, peoples, races and institutions in politics, economics, arts, science and technology” (Jimoh 2017, 45). In my opinion, it has severed Africans from their Africanness. By Africanness, I mean “the cultural bias binding Africans to their roots and ontological beliefs in oneness and communality” (Jimoh 2017, 45). Globalization is a positive phenomenon that has the capacity to bind human beings of different persuasions together in a system of intercultural exchanges. It, however, has to be properly integrated; otherwise, it could erode the indigenous culture of a people by superimposing a culture, not only foreign but at variance with the indigenous culture. Given the latter as the case, rather than consolidate the benefits of globalization, a people may become deluded hybrids who neither know their indigenous culture nor are able to appropriately internalize the foreign culture they attempt to embrace. The tension arising thereof creates the grounds to breed dangerous individualistic tendencies that are counterproductive to African communitarianism. The lessons from African communalism in relation to the issues of justice and the Othered minority are that we return, through cultural revival, to our Africanness. Such a cultural revival should cognize and acknowledge the developments of civilization, especially globalization. Therefore, it should not be a wholesale, blindfolded return to the past, as it would be fatal to our progress. The cultural revival that I advocate should be a cautious tread that recognizes modern civilization, growth in technology, and the rule of world culture. It should not overlook what is good and positive and can enhance the values and practices we intend to revive. Therefore, as I argued elsewhere, “we should first, guide against attempts to imprison ourselves in the past. We should reject foreign cultural impositions that dissipate our esteem for togetherness, human dignity, and respect for elders” (Jimoh 2017, 46). Dons Eze expresses my sentiments when he posits that in our attempts toward a cultural revival, we should “recognise the weaknesses or limitations of communal society, its cleavages and differentiations . . . come to terms with subjectivity by modifying traditional and foreign cultural values in conformity with the realities and exigencies of the day” (Eze 2014, 146).

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We need to be constantly aware and positively acknowledge our commonness beyond self-contained groups. This will ensure justice and equity in our interpersonal relationships in any human society. The cultural revival of our African communalism, which would include the practices of our ancestors that strengthen us in a civilized and globalized world, would be a step in the right direction. Such an awareness should eschew traditional cultural practices that weaken our bond and trap us in the past. It would orientate us to welcome one another as it would dispel the fear of the Other and, therefore, encourage us to live peacefully in mutual coexistence.

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Interrogating Exclusivism from an African Context Victor C. A. Nweke and L. Uchenna Ogbonnaya

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Social-Self and Its Mode of Existence in Africa and the World . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A Synopsis on Ibuanyidanda (Complementary) Ontology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . An Ibuanyidanda Critique of Exclusivism in a Heterogeneous and Interconnected World . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

In this chapter, we posit that if the social ontology of humans suggests that to be is not to be alone, then it is both unsound and counterproductive for any individual or group of individuals to act in a manner that negates or ignores the rights and well-being of others. We buttress this position through a careful study of the challenge of exclusivism from the perspective of a theory in African philosophy called Ibuanyidanda or complementary ontology. Ibuanyidanda ontology buttresses the presupposition that to be is not to be alone. In line with this presupposition, Ibuanyidanda ontology would maintain that any exclusionist policy or action that tends to negate or ignore the rights or well-being of a specific individual or group of individuals is inherently unsound and counterproductive. This chapter exposes the nature of Ibuanyidanda ontology and the role it plays in bridging the gap between the self and the other. It submits that Ibuanyidanda ontology proffers a valid repudiation of exclusivism from the African place.

V. C. A. Nweke (*) Institute of Cultural Studies, University of Koblenz-Landau, Koblenz, Germany e-mail: [email protected] L. U. Ogbonnaya The Conversational School of Philosophy (CSP), University of Calabar, Calabar, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_13

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Keywords

African philosophy · Complementary reflection · Ibuanyidanda ontology · Innocent Asouzu · Exclusivism · the Self · Social ontology · the Other

Introduction Self-preservation is widely recognized as a basic instinct in human beings and other animal species. Leading philosophers and theorists across different cultures and intellectual orientations are also of the view that humans are inherently social and endowed with higher intellectual abilities that enable them to think, communicate, interact, and relate with each other in their daily quest for self-preservation as different members of the same species. This means that the human being is, among other things, a relational and intelligent being that is aware of the existence of diverse entities in the world and can also conceptualize itself as distinct from every other entity in the world. Closely related to this is the ability to categorize other entities into different groups which includes the act of defining and choosing how to relate with the respective groups. Thus, the concept of the “self” and “others” and the necessary relations between the self and others are the products of human conceptualizations. The question is what is this thing called self that recognizes itself as different from others? What is the relationship between this self-conscious self and the others? Can the self know or preserve itself without the others? Can a selfconscious self discover and relate with another self that is distinct from itself? Philosophers have approach these and similar questions from a specific area of philosophy such as metaphysics, epistemology, ethics, or an interface between any of these or other traditional branches or subbranches of philosophy. Our approach in this chapter is from the area of social ontology. Broadly construed, social ontology is the critical and systematic reflection on the experiences of humans as intelligent social animals using mainly the tools of logical analysis, evaluation, and argumentation. It uses the conceptual tools of philosophy to study the formation and mode of existence of the diverse social groups in the world and how the members of these groups perceive as well as define how to relate with each other in relation to their quest for self-preservation (Searle 1995, 2006; Lawson 1997, 2009). So conceived, social ontology includes the study of what John Searle describes as social objects, social facts, and social processes and events. The social objects consist of a group of people bonded by a common social attribute such as ethnicity (Efik, Kanuri, Zulu, Akan, etc.), nationality (South African, Nigerian, German, etc.), race (white people, black people, people of color, etc.), gender, religion, politics, and so on. Social facts refer to a conventionally defined social reality such as Nigeria is an African country. Ghana was colonized by the British. The last, social events and processes, refers to perceptible social procedures and experiences such as electioneering, governance, racism, colonialism, globalization, etc. In this regard, it could be deduced that the scope of social ontology revolves around the construction of social objects. For social facts and social processes or events are by-products of the existence of the social objects. And what Searle calls

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social objects are placeholders for the self, a definite group of people that see themselves as distinct from others based on the possession of a defined common attribute. Let call it the social-self (cf. Okolo 1993). The self in self-determination (the right of peoples, a group of human beings) and self-defense which primarily applies to the right of a person, an individual human being, is basically social. And both concepts have a necessary link with the idea of self-preservation. Thus, the diverse group of people united by ethnicity, health condition, gender, nationality, and so on is a form of social-self. Although there are many prominent philosophical works on the social-self, like many other issues, most of the extant philosophical works are mainly articulated from the experiences of human beings in the Western (Anglo-American and European) lifeworld and therefore belong to the Western traditions of philosophy. Given that the binary concepts of the self and others and its effects are also evident in the African lifeworld, an articulate account of the African experience as a social-self both within and outside Africa will enrich our understanding of the challenges associated with the concept of the self and others as a social reality. Against this backdrop, our specific goal is to present an articulate account of how and why the existence of the social-self in different societies affects the African quest for selfpreservation. Consequently, we shall explicate the nature of the social-self and its mode of existence in Africa and beyond and then proceed to define exclusivism as the operational principle of the social-self in the world. Thereafter, we shall examine the plausibility of exclusivism in relation to the quest for self-preservation from the standpoint of a specific ontological theory in African philosophy known as Ibuanyidanda ontology. We shall at the end submit that Ibuanyidanda ontology is an African school of social ontology that repudiates exclusivism as an operational principle of the social-self in a world that is diverse and intricately interconnected.

The Social-Self and Its Mode of Existence in Africa and the World As stated earlier, by the social-self, we refer to a definite group of people that see themselves or are seen as distinct from another group of people base on the possession of a defined common attribute. This goes to show that the social-self is concern with interpersonal rather than intrapersonal experience. In other words, by the social-self, we do not refer to an entity within an individual human being akin to topics in philosophy of mind, epistemology, and related areas. Rather, we mean a human being as a member of a given group of people. In his essay “Social-self in African Philosophy: Dimensions of the Problematique,” the late Nigerian philosopher, Chukwudum B. Okolo, argues that the self in African philosophy is “essentially social” (1993, 125). True to its title, Okolo noted that reflections on this social nature of the self do invite many questions in social and political philosophy such as individual freedom, human rights, and cognate issues. In fact, the entire chapters of his book, African Social & Political Philosophy: Selected Essays, deal with diverse dimensions of the challenge associated with the social-self. In a sense, the individual-community debate, which is one of the most recurrent themes in African

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philosophy, is a battle to see how the individual is separated from a specific socialself (community) that she/he is identified with. The question is what are the criteria for the construction and categorization of human beings into different forms of social-self? And, who does the construction and categorization? There are different classifications of the social-self. The most general is classification according to race. The use of predicates such as white and black to refer to a group of people is indication of a racial classification of human beings. Although such classifications are no longer in vogue, next to race is classification according to geographical location, thus the idea of continents. To wit, phrases such as the African, the Asian, and the European are all instances of a social-self. It is important to note that although the racial classification is mainly physiological unlike the continental that is basically geographical, both are fundamentally related in that the predominant physiological properties of human beings that inhabit a given geographical location of the world are similar. Besides, every individual that is classified as black in the contemporary world is often seen and treated as an African. Thus, as a social-self in the world, the black man is synonymous with the African man. The African as a social-self in the world is therefore more than just a geographical description. Before we proceed to buttress this claim, there is more to the African experience as a social-self in the world. And this has something to do with the African experience within Africa. Within Africa, the African loses its identity as a social-self to acquire another social-self that is tied to nationality. The African now becomes the Angolan, the Nigerian, the South African, and so on. And within every African country, we have another form of social-self that is based on ethnicity. For instance, the Nigerian becomes the Efik, the Kanuri, the Igbo, the Yoruba, the Hausa, etc. These ethnic nationalities that make up every country in Africa also have categories of human beings that they see and treat as unwanted. The case of people with albinism and other forms of segregation falls among this domain. We have so far defined the African as a social-self and then identified two categories of the social-self within Africa. These are (1) social-self according to nationality and (2) social-self according to ethnicity. Admittedly, there are other forms of the socialself that are formed using criteria such as religion and gender. Our focus on race, nationality, and ethnicity should not be interpreted to mean that these are the only forms of the social-self in the world. At this point, it should be clear that the African is not a single indivisible socialself. Despite the shared experiences of the African as a social-self, every African person is often scrutinized and permitted to enter another country strictly on her/his nationality as a Nigerian, a Togolese, etc. A Nigerian in South Africa is not seen as the African, but she/he is the Nigerian and vice versa. Also, the Nigerian in Nigeria is not seen as a Nigerian, s/he is the Igbo, the Hausa, the Efik, the Yoruba, and so on. Yet, the same individual who was scrutinized and permitted to enter a non-African country as a Nigerian, seen and treated as the Nigerian by the African community, and as the Igbo by the Nigerian community, and, in some cases, segregated against by the Igbo community, is addressed and treated as the African. The African as an indivisible social-self in the world is therefore a social construction for meeting the demands for self-preservation. This also applies to

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the status of every African country (the Nigerian) as a social-self in the world. The only social-self that appears to be natural to the African is the social-self that is built on ethnicity. The African naturally identify with, think, and speaks from, feels obligated, and is even compelled to, defend, preserve, and promote her/his being as a social-self that is strictly defined by ethnicity. In this sense, the African experience is ultimately the experience of an Igbo, Akan, Efik, Ibibio, Zulu, or Shona as a social-self in different parts of the world. The works of cerebral African writers such as Chinua Achebe and even renowned African philosophers such Kwasi Wiredu or Mogobe Ramose buttress this point. A consideration of who is responsible for the construction and categorization of the African and the Nigerian as a social-self, when, and why will help to explicate this point and the challenge that arise from it. As a social-self, the African is a product of leading European intellectual, including thinkers and philosophers of the Enlightenment such as David Hume, Immanuel Kant, and G. W. F. Hegel (cf. Eze 1998; Ramose 2002; Bernasconi 2003). They constructed an imaginary image of the African as a being that is not as human as the European and as such can be acquired and used to further the European interest through whatever means possible and whenever it is necessary to do so. The consistent projection and consolidation of this odious image of the African elevated it to the status of indubitable truth. The nature and duration of the transatlantic slave trade bear testimony to this. It lasted as long it was profitable for the European to do so. And when it was no longer very beneficial, it was replaced with another form of slavery that is euphemistically called colonialism. The European as a social-self were also responsible for the construction of a second artificial social-self in Africa. They share the continent among themselves into countries. Using Nigeria as a reference point, Achebe (2012, 1-3) gave a typical account of how this was done. Different ethnic nationalities that see themselves as different from each other were consciously joined together by leading European nations for the purpose of achieving their own interest. They were able to do this through constant conquest and subordination of one nation at a time, followed by gradual unification and use of the conquered ones to subdue the unconquered ones. But the unification was only in principle. The European did not attempt to foster any form of national consciousness among either the African or the Nigerian as a self. It was the shared experiences of humiliation from a common enemy that instilled the African consciousness in the African at home and in the diaspora. Hence, the birth of Pan-African nationalism and related nationalist movement in every country. As the case with Pan-Africanism, the national consciousness in a country with many nations such as Nigeria, was only strong in the face of the external enemy, the European colonizers. As the withdrawal of the European become obvious, the nationalists returned to their primordial socialself and then try to ensure that her/his primordial social-self takes the position of the withdrawing European colonizer through whatever means possible. This attitude makes the members of a competing primordial social-self within the social-self constructed in Africa by the European to see and treat members of another primordial social-self within their country as the other that can be used to further the interest of their primordial social-self. This attitude is akin to the European construction of the African as the other. What all these comes to is that human beings often think that

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the best way to self-preservation is through the exclusion and conceptualization of human beings that belong to another social-self as the dispensable other. Every intentional policy or action that is design mainly for the preservation of one’s socialself even to the detriment of another social-self is what we call exclusivism. The question is whether exclusivism is the best approach to optimal human flourishing in a diverse world that is interconnected. We shall examine this question from the standpoint of Ibuanyidanda ontology. Hence, there is a need for a brief reflection on Ibuanyidanda ontology.

A Synopsis on Ibuanyidanda (Complementary) Ontology Ibuanyidanda ontology is a philosophical theory articulated by the Nigerian philosopher, Innocent Izuchukwu Asouzu. Our choice for Ibuanyidanda ontology is predicated on Asouzu’s approach and focus. Rather than speak under the veil of a group, “African,” “Igbo,” or any other group of people like many of his predecessors and contemporaries, Asouzu took a novel approach. He presented Ibuanyidanda ontology as an African ontology not the African ontology. Asouzu often underscores this point by emphasizing that the Africanity of Ibuanyidanda ontology lies specifically in the fact that it was primarily generated from the predominant views of different African communities about the nature of reality encapsulated in their social norms, as well as the oral and written works of their intellectuals. It is in this sense that we consider Asouzu’s approach to fall within the confines of conversational philosophy, that is, the act of doing African philosophy as a critical and systematic reflection of an individual on any given issue using salient ideas in the intellectual heritage of Africa as the fundamental theoretical base. In relation to content, the focus of Ibuanyidanda ontology is on the social-self. It should be noted that Ibuanyidanda ontology is only an aspect of Asouzu’s Ibuanyidanda philosophy that deals with the question of the ultimate constituent of reality. Ibuanyidanda philosophy is therefore not synonymous with Ibuanyidanda ontology even if it is reducible to it. Asouzu’s publications on Ibuanyidanda philosophy contain and have inspired theories in other areas of philosophy such as epistemology, axiology, and logic. However, the core principles that underlie the diverse aspects of Ibuanyidanda philosophy are primarily derived from Asouzu’s interpretation of the term Ibuanyidanda. Etymologically, Ibuanyidanda is a composite of three Igbo words: ibu (load or task), anyi (not insurmountable), and danda (a species of ants). Brought together, the three words, ibu anyi danda, are common Igbo aphorism that can be literally translated to mean that no load or task is insurmountable for the ant danda (Asouzu 2007a, 11). Asouzu avers that this aphorism is the refrain of an Igbo work song that is derived from their observation of the said species of ants. He notes that this species of ants, due to their complementary efforts, can lift any load that seemingly appears to be insurmountable, hence, the meaning of the aphorism “no load is insurmountable for ‘danda’ the ant” (2007a, 11). At this point, the aphorism is an observational statement and remains nonphilosophical. Asouzu also notes that the aphorism is also a descriptive statement since it describes what happens among this species of ants. At this descriptive level, the aphorism is still not philosophical. For him, if this

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aphorism is left at the levels of observational and descriptive statements, it will lead to “picture-type fallacy or error of transformation” (2004, 119–132, 2013, 15). Herein, it can be falsely said that what is observable among the ants “danda” is obtainable among human beings and the human society. It is due to Asouzu’s desire to transcend this error that he transformed the aphorism ibu anyi danda into a single concept Ibuanyidanda. And the nearest English equivalent to Ibuanyidanda is complementarity. Hence, Ibuanyidanda ontology/philosophy is also known as complementary ontology/philosophy. Asouzu explains that he arrives at the idea of complementarity as the most appropriate English rendition of ibu anyi danda after a careful study of the interpretation of the concept by a respected Igbo scholar, Romanus Ohuche, and that the complementary nature of the Igbo understanding of reality and approach to difficult tasks is widely acknowledged (Basden 1921, 35; Edeh 1983; Oguah 1984, 220; Kamalu 1990, 7; Iroegbu 1995). His contribution lies in the articulate development of some fundamental philosophical principles through a critical and systematic reflection on the salient ideas inherent in the aphorism and its evidences in the Igbo society. In other words, Asouzu’s credit is mainly philosophical. In his 2008 address as President of the Nigerian Philosophical Association (NPA), J. Obi Oguejiofor observes that Asouzu have “unleashed an incredible barrage of steady and original works at an almost superhuman rate and always intended to go beyond the normative sense of African philosophy” (2010a, xv). He has also argued that Ibuanyidanda philosophy is the most promising emerging philosophic system in African philosophy (Oguejiofor 2010b, 21). We shall now concentrate on two foundational principles that define the nature of Ibuanyidanda ontology as a theory in African philosophy, namely, the principle of integration and the principle of progressive transformation. The principle of integration which is also known as the principle of harmonious complementation states that “anything that exists serves a missing link of reality” (Asouzu 2007b, 110; Edet 2011, 44). Asouzu uses “missing links” in a technical sense to refer to everything that exists, animate and inanimate, material and nonmaterial (2004, 277–278). Hence, the major claim of the principle of integration is that reality consists of everything in the world. Being is a conglomeration of all existents (Edet 2011, 28–32). What this entails is that the existence of every entity is intricately interconnected and interrelated with the existence of another reality; the entities in the world affirm and make possible the being of each other. Thus, to be is not to be alone. To be is to be with others as a missing link of reality; all that exists serve each other in a mutual complementary sense. This point is made clearer in the second principle, the principle of progressive transformation, which is actually the practical variant of the principle of integration. Accordingly, the principle of progressive transformation states that “all human actions are geared towards the joy of being” (Asouzu 2007a, 306; Edet 2011, 44). This implies that human actions are purpose-driven; and the purpose is joy. Sequel to their intelligent and social nature, humans, unlike other entities, can seek the joy of being in a conscious and organized manner with others. Yet, since to be is not to be alone, the most appropriate human disposition toward attaining the joy of being must be in consonance with the interconnected nature of being as stipulated by the principle of

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integration. Joined together, the two principles of Ibuanyidanda ontology suggest “that all existents are necessary entities that play an essential role for the joy of every being in the universe” (Nweke 2018, 151). In other words, Ibuanyidanda ontology upholds the view that the “wellbeing of every reality in the universe is so intricately interdependent that the constant careless abuse of the wellbeing of a particular entity in order to promote the wellbeing of another entity often leads to negative results” (2018, 151). Notably, the position of Ibuanyidanda ontology on the inclusive, interconnected, and complementary nature of reality is a prominent view in African philosophy (cf. Mbiti 1969; Iroegbu 2002; Ramose 2002; Oluwole 2014). A detailed analysis of the nature of Ibuanyidanda ontology in relation to different ontological theories in African philosophy is the basic focus of Asouzu’s book, Ibuanyidanda: New Complementary Ontology, Beyond World-Immanentism, Ethnocentric Reduction and Impositions. In this book, Asouzu demonstrates how the extant ontological theories in African philosophy (from Tempels and Kagame down to Ramose) that affirm the complementary nature of reality often end up reducing reality to a specific entity that is fixed. They also tend to absolutize and impose their preferred views as the view of an entire community thereby supporting the myth of unanimity (cf. Hountondji 1996) in a community that has individuals that subscribe to a different view. For instance, what is supposed to be an Igbo ontology (i.e., an interpretation of the nature of reality as encapsulated in the culture of the Igbo people of Nigeria) is often presented as the Igbo or even African ontology. More importantly, Asouzu argues that the reduction, absolutization, and projection of any specific entity as the ultimate constituent of reality necessarily involve the exclusion of other entities. And such exclusion is made possible because of the tendency to always bifurcate reality into two distinct components, the essential and the accidental. Asouzu argues that this tendency to bifurcate, reduce, absolutize, and project a given aspect of reality that one considers to be the essential or ultimate constituent of reality was canonized in Western philosophy by Aristotle’s Metaphysics and transported into African philosophy by Tempels’ Bantu Philosophy. He maintains that many of the academic practitioners of African philosophy still pay allegiance to Tempels’ bifurcative, reductive, and absolutist approach to ontology (Asouzu 2007c). In relation to this, Ibuanyidanda ontology is fundamentally a critique of Aristotle’s metaphysics and its influence in the history academic philosophy (Asouzu 2012, 2016). According to Asouzu, the definitive subject matter of Aristotle’s metaphysics is the essential as against the accidental features of being. He maintains that this preoccupation with the essential (substance) cuts across the entire edifice of Aristotle’s philosophy and then proceeds to contend that the influence of Aristotle is very pronounced in the history of philosophy. He points out that academic philosophy after Aristotle is mainly presented as the study of “essences.” His problem with this approach is that it promotes the adoption of a bifurcative, disjunctive, and exclusivist disposition toward the study of being. Ibuanyidanda ontology transcends the exclusivist orientation inherent in philosophy of essence by insisting that all aspects of reality are indispensable in understanding, seeking, and maintaining the well-being of the said reality. If being consists of substance and accident, then both substance and accident are intrinsically complementary to each

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other. Being cannot be exclusively reduced to substance or accident because substance and accident complement themselves as missing links to define a reality. The principle of integration – “anything that exists serves a missing link of reality” – shows that no aspect of reality exists in isolation. To exist is to exist with others. Asouzu uses the Igbo word ihedi (what is) to disambiguate his theory of being. He writes that ihedi nwere isi na odu meaning whatever that is has head and tail end (2007a, 10, 253, 266, 293). In plain terms, being, whatever exists, exists in relation to its complementary components, the isi and the odu. In this context, isi (head) depicts substance, while odu (tail end) depicts accident. These two components that make up a given entity are indispensable to its existence. What affects one component will affects the well-being of the entity. Buttressing this further, Asouzu sees the first as ihe kachasi mkpa (what is most important – substance) and the second as ihe di mkpa (what is important – accident) (2007a, 254). Left at this point, one may think that, for Asouzu, substance is more important than accident in defining and preserving being. But this is not the case. Asouzu’s affirms that ihedi nwere isi na odu means that being consists of ihe kachasi mkpa (substance) and ihe di mkpa (accident). To strive to protect one to the detriment of the other is contradictory because the mode of being of a specific entity is necessarily a product of all its components. In the same vein, the mode of being of a specific entity is inherently related to that of another entity. All entities in the world are necessary components of being. Whatever exists is a manifestation of the diverse missing links of being. Hence, Asouzu talks of the “future referentiality” of being (2007a, 56, 63, 65, 99). What he mean by future referentiality is the ceaseless manifestation of being in terms of mutual complementary relations between entities (Ogbonnaya 2017, 75). Thus, being is better understood and preserved through a serious consideration of the relations between and among the diverse entities in the world. This emphasizes the idea of inherent complementary relations between all existents. To be is to be in mutual complementary relationship with all existents. Within the framework of Ibuanyidanda ontology, to be (idi) is not to be alone (2011, 30–31, 55; 2007a, 268). Asouzu has applied this principle to question and reconceptualized the idea of ethnicity, nationality, race, religion, language, tribe, culture, and globalization in a diverse world (Asouzu 2007c, 277). In relation to this, Asouzu argues that exclusivism is not the best approach to optimal human flourishing in a diverse, dynamic, and interconnected world. His stance amounts to an Ibuanyidanda critique of exclusivism. We shall in the next section buttress the validity of this critique with allusions to the experiences of the African as a social-self in the world.

An Ibuanyidanda Critique of Exclusivism in a Heterogeneous and Interconnected World To recap, we define exclusivism to mean any intentional policy or action that is design mainly for the preservation of one social-self even to the detriment of another social-self in any particular society. And by social-self, we refer to a group of human beings that see themselves as distinct from another group due to differences in terms

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of race, nationality, ethnicity, religion, gender, and so on. Now, the social-self that makes up a given society (ethnic group, country, continent, or the global community) can be divided into two broad groups, the privileged social-self and the disadvantaged social-self. A privileged social-self in a given society is the social-self that wields the resources that can enable it to subdue another social-self with little or no serious resistance. Any social-self that lacks such resources is a disadvantaged social-self. In the global society, the West (North America and Europe) is a privileged social-self. Africa is a disadvantaged social-self. Just as in the global level, we also have the privileged and the disadvantaged social-self in every social group down to the level of two individuals. The killing of heretics and twins, segregations against people with albinism, and even the preference for male children are typical examples of the possibility of belonging to either a privileged or disadvantaged social-self within a bigger social-self with a different status. The crucial point here is that exclusivism is the operational principle that guides the human quest for self-preservation in the world. Sequel to its fundamental proposition that to be is not to be alone, Ibuanyidanda ontology sees exclusivism as inherently antithetical to the optimal preservation and promotion of the being of any social-self in the world. From a theoretical point of view, the claim of Ibuanyidanda ontology shows that exclusivism is an invalid principle. If to be is not to be alone, then it is illogical to strive to be alone. Ibuanyidanda ontology states that to be is not to be alone but exclusivism promotes the drive to be alone. Therefore, exclusivism is illogical. The validity of this argument can be demonstrated through the application of the rules of valid inference, specifically hypothetical syllogism, modus ponens, and modus tollens. But we know that not all valid arguments are factually true. Besides, the Nigerian philosopher, T. U. Nwala, notes that the ultimate criterion for checking the veracity of ideas is to evaluate them in terms of practice: “The only check on the irrationality or subjectivity of the human mind is that its ideas must be related to practice. If they are divorced from reality they may falsify reality” (2007, 72). Since we are dealing with a social idea, it will make sense to buttress the plausibility of Ibuanyidanda critique of exclusivism in relation to the experience of humans in the world. Note that the goal is to validate the critique of exclusivism as an illogical principle. So, the focus is on the result of the use of exclusivism as a principle for self-preservation. It is a historical fact that the members of every social-self often seek to preserve and promote their well-being (their mode of being) without a demonstrable recognition that their mode of being is indispensably tied to the mode of being of all the social-self that they encounter in the world. Self-preservation is mostly approach with the mindset of competition for the being of one’s social-self, rather than the mindset of cooperation for the being of all existents. Thus, the privileged social-self often appears as the winner. However, the conscious attempt of the privileged social-self to continue to preserve and promote its mode of being to the detriment of that of the disadvantaged social-self often leads to tensions that affect the well-being of both members of the privileged social-self and the disadvantaged one. The reason for this is simple, if to be is to be with others, then any intentional or unintentional harm that the privileged social-self inflicts on

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the disadvantaged social-self invariably mars the mode of being of both the privileged social-self and the disadvantaged social-self. The implication of this is that exclusivism is inherently faulty because it propels the privileged social-self to go against its optimal well-being. A glance at how exclusivism does this will make this point clearer. At the global level, exclusivism is responsible for both racism, slave trade, and colonialism. The Western world succeeded and benefited from their unjustified conquest and exploitation of Africa (Ramose 2002). According to Steve Biko, racism connotes the “exclusion of one race by another. It always presupposes that the exclusion is for the purpose of subjugation” (2003, 100–101). In this context, it is the act of excluding blacks from the whites in the realm of politics, economics, and resource control of the world. Occupying the position of a privilege social-self, leading intellectuals of the white race excluded the blacks from the realm of human beings that should be seen and treated with respect (cf. Eze 1997, 103–140; Oguejiofor 2001, 80–87). The leaders of leading European nations concretized the unreasonable propositions of their intellectuals by using the powers at their disposal to enslave and use members of the black race as tools for protecting, promoting, and preserving the optimal well-being of the white race (cf. Okere and Njoku 2005). This was done in a manner that promotes the consistent dehumanization, subjugation, manipulation, exploitation, and impoverishment of members of the black race for the benefit of the white race. What makes the transatlantic slave trade different with the experience of other forms of slave trade is that it was intertwined with racism and anchored on exclusivism. This complex admixture of racism and exclusivism did not end with the slave trade. It only assumed another form known as colonialism (cf. Wiredu 1992, 59; Okere 2005, 6–10). For Theophilus Okere (2005), colonialism is worse than the slave trade in the sense that while the slave trade only succeeded in the capture, enslavement, and transportation of some Africans out of Africa, colonialism meant the enslavement of all Africans in Africa. Given the racist foundation of colonialism in Africa, it led to a thorough systematic reprogramming of the structure of Africa and the thinking of Africans to be susceptible to the manipulations of the white race toward the underdevelopment of Africa and Africans for the preservation of the white race. There was a conscious attempt to supplant everything African in Africa and in the African all for the purpose of preserving the white race as a social-self. And the said conscious attempt did not end with colonialism. It continues to manifest in the way the West (North America and Europe) as a privileged social-self in the contemporary world always projects and protects its interest across the world irrespective of the interest of others. The recent surge of white supremacist’s movements, ethnonationalism within North American and European countries, buttress this point. Huge resources that should have help to improve the mode of being of humans in the world have been spent on the development and acquisition of sophisticated weapons and the recruitment of more security forces just to ensure that the white race continues to enjoy “authority, security, wealth, and comfort” (Biko 2003, 94) even to the detriment of the black race everywhere in the world. But instead of leading to global peace, the attempts of the West to acquire that which it denies the

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African are dotted with tensions, conflicts, mutual distrust, and mutual fear that mar their mode of being in the world. The adoption of exclusivism within the African continent is also a negative story. At the birth of political independence, exclusivism made every African country to concentrate primarily on protecting its nationals. In so doing, it destroyed the panAfrican spirit that enabled Africans to win the political battle against colonialism. Today, the Nigerian finds it difficult to enter South Africa. And those that manage to enter do experience diverse forms of exclusion and marginalization such as xenophobia. Given the dead of the pan-African spirit, every African country is still fighting for economic independence with little or no success. Following the economic status of their different countries, an African in the streets of another continent is ordinarily seen and treated as the African other irrespective of her/his nationality. At the national level, exclusivism became prominent at the eve of political independence in a specific African country in the form of ethnocentrism. It split the cooperation between and among the diverse ethnic groups united for a common purpose. As a result, many of the countries have witnessed full-scale wars and are still suffering from diverse forms of social conflicts. The pitiable state of Nigeria, despite its huge human and material resources, is the dividends of the ceaseless battles between the many primordial social-self that made up the artificial social-self, called Nigeria (cf. Ekeh 1975, 91–112). The division is so strong in Nigeria today that no Nigerian is necessarily seen and treated as a Nigerian. The consequence is that till date, neither Nigeria nor any of the primordial social-self in Nigeria has been able to attain its optimal well-being (Nweke 2016, 26–46). Moreover, anyone seeking to enter another country with a Nigerian passport is normally seen and treated as the Nigerian. What the above instances show is that the adoption of exclusivism as an operational principle for preserving and promoting the well-being of any social-self is a selfdefeatist approach. Thus, Asouzu sees every manifestation of exclusivism as a “pseudo-legitimate strategy of survival.” He defines a pseudo-legitimate strategy of survival as “an act through which people seek to secure consistently their private interests, at the expense of the common good, or in total or partial disregard of the interest of others, in an apparent legitimate manner” (2003, 96). From this definition, one will notice that the quest for self-preservation is not wrong per se. In fact, Asouzu explicitly acknowledged that it is a primordial natural inclination inherent in humans. What he quarrels with is the tendency that suggests that it is beneficial to do so without due consideration of the necessary relations between the interest of others. One prominent question that could be raise in this connection is the prolonged reliance on exclusivism as a principle of social action. If exclusivism is logically and socially unsound, then why have human beings continue to use it over the years? A typical Ibuanyidanda response to the above question lies in Asouzu’s analysis of a distinct “super-maxim” that impairs the natural capacities of humans as intelligible social agents that can seek their primordial natural tendency to self-preservation in a mutually enriching manner. Asouzu defines a super-maxim as “a law-like dictate that fundamentally controls our actions, such that we mistake their hypothetical character for a universal imperative” (2010, xix). In addition to this he explains:

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Within the context of Complementary Reflection, all maxims relating to the realization of human interests can be reduced to this one super-maxim of the facultative injunction: The Nearer, the Better, and the Safer. That is to say, the nearer or more intimate a thing is to me, the better and safer I adjudge its being. We can still reformulate it descriptively and negatively thus: The more removed a thing is from our intimate region of belongingness, our immediate neighbourhood, our ethnic, clannish and tribal world of reference, for example, the less we are obliged to it and can even exploit it freely with impunity for our own survival, and in this case even without remorse. (2010, xix)

A close look at the nature of the above super-maxim shows that it is inscribed on human consciousness through socialization as members of one family, gender, clan, ethnic group, socioeconomic group, and political community. Thus, even though we know from experience that those that belong to our most immediate social-self are not always the best people to deal with (Edet 2010, 57–60), our upbringing and intimate interactions as intelligible social beings tend to compel us to think and act as if the survival of our social-self is all that matters. A brief reflection of how we are groomed will bring this to the fore. As intelligible social agents, human beings have an inherent capacity to think clearly, communicate effectively, judge distinctly, and act responsibly toward meeting a desired goal. And the ultimate objective of all human activities gears toward the joy of being or self-preservation. The said inherent capacity of humans is made explicit in the language and conventional norms of interpersonal relationship between diverse people in a given society overtime. Now, prior to the conscious study of any language or conscious adoption of a given norm, every human being grows up speaking a specific language and naturally feels obligated, as well as expects others to act in line with the definitive norms of our society. Hence, we often judge human actions as plausible if such actions are in line with the conventional norms of our society. But the conventional norms of every society are mainly formulated by members of the privileged social-self aimed at procuring their interest or at best the interest of the entire members of their specific social-self. So, by using the conventional norms of their society to evaluate their actions without a conscious attempt to consider such actions in relation to the interest of others, human beings often design, adopt, and continue to apply exclusivist policies that lead to unintended results. It often takes a deep reflexive look at the guiding principles of one’s socialself for an individual to realize the contradictory nature of exclusivism. The unfortunate thing is that very few individuals engaged in such reflexive reflections. One can find insights on what accounts for this situation and how it can be ameliorated within the framework of Ibuanyidanda philosophy. An analysis of the said insights is outside the scope of this chapter.

Conclusion Our basic argument is that the defining principle of Ibuanyidanda ontology that to be is not to be alone is a thorough-going critique of exclusivism from the intellectual heritage of Africa. We provide strong reasons in terms of logical inference and of

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acknowledged social realities to support our argument. A basic significance of our Ibuanyidanda repudiation of exclusivism is that it avoids the error that goes with the kind of unintended ethnocentric generalizations which tend to project “African ontology” or “African philosophy” as totally exclusivist or inclusivist. In contrast to this approach, we employ the methodological disposition of Ibuanyidanda philosophy that informs the orientation of the Conversation School of African Philosophy. This disposition sees and engages extant perspectives in African philosophy as ideas articulated by its author/s rather than the unanimous views of any African community. In this regard, our Ibuanyidanda critique shows that fidelity to exclusivism as a principle of human relations has been expressed and is still being expressed in every human society. Accordingly, we contend that the ultimate foundation of exclusivism lies in the human capacity to adopt inappropriate means toward meeting their basic needs either because of erroneous judgment or deep-seated ignorance fostered by socialization. We explain how the bifurcative philosophical disposition, which became predominant in the history of Western philosophy and the entire edifice of academic philosophy after Aristotle, is exclusivist in nature. We also unveiled how the principles of Ibuanyidanda ontology stem from a careful examination of the prevailing complementary approach to reality in the intellectual heritage of Africa. It is pertinent to note that our basic submission is that Ibuanyidanda ontology provides a plausible critique of exclusivism from an African context. The question of the plausibility of Ibuanyidanda ontology is a different issue that falls outside the scope of our main thesis.

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Basden, G.T. 1921. Among the Ibos of Nigeria. London: Frank Cass. Bernasconi, Robert ed. 2003. Race and racism in continental philosophy. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Biko, Steve B. 2003. Black consciousness and the quest for true humanity. In African philosophy reader, 93–101. New York: Routledge. Edeh, Emmanuel. 1983. Towards Igbo metaphysics. Chicago: Loyola University Press. Edet, Mesembe I. 2010. The super-maxim and social change in Nigeria. The International Researcher 1 (5): 56–64. Edet, Mesembe I. 2011. Being as missing-links. Journal of Complementary Reflection: Studies in Asouzu 1 (1): 28–32. Ekeh, Peter P. 1975. Colonialism and the two publics in Africa: A theoretical statement. Comparative Studies in Society and History 17 (1): 91–112. Eze, Emmanuel C. 1997. The color of reason: The idea of “race” in Kant’s anthropology. In Postcolonial African philosophy: A critical reader, ed. Emmanuel C. Eze, 103–140. Oxford: Blackwell Publishers. Eze, Emmanuel C., ed. 1998. African philosophy: An anthology. Malden: Blackwell Publishers. Hountondji, Paulin. 1996. African Philosophy: Myth and Reality. 2nd ed. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press. Iroegbu, Pantaleon. 1995. Metaphysics the Kpim of philosophy. Owerri: International Universities Press. Iroegbu, Pantaleon. 2002. Beyond materialism and spiritualism. Ibadan: Hope Publications. Kamalu, Chukwunyere. 1990. Foundations of African thought. A worldview grounded in the African heritage of religion, philosophy, science and art. London: Karnak House. Lawson, Tony. 1997. Economics and reality. London: Routledge. Lawson, Tony. 2009. Cambridge social ontology: An interview with Tony Lawson. Erasmus Journal for Philosophy and Economics 2 (1): 100–122. Mbiti, J. 1969. African religions and philosophy. New York: Praeger Publishers. Nwala, T. Uzodinma. 2007. The Otonti Nduka Mandate: From tradition to modernity, 18th inaugural lecture. University of Nigeria, Nsukka. Nweke, Victor C.A. 2016. 100 years of motions without movement: Centenary Nigeria’s condition and the need for an integrativist philosophy of development. In Nigeria, hundred years after: Philosophical issues and perspectives, ed. M.F. Asiegbu and J.C. Chukwuokolo, 26–46. Enugu: Snaap Press. Nweke, Victor C.A. 2018. Global warming as an ontological boomerang effect: Towards a philosophical rescue from the African place. In African philosophy and environmental conservation, ed. Jonathan O. Chimakonam, 226–243. London: Routledge. Ogbonnaya, Lucky Uchenna. 2017. An appraisal of the ontological foundation of African logic from the perpective of Asouzu’s Ibuanyidanda Ontology. A Ph.D. thesis proposal, University of Calabar, Calabar. Oguah, E. Benjamin. 1984. African and Western philosophy a comparative study. In African philosophy: An introduction, ed. Richard Wright. Lanham: University Press American. Oguejiofor, Obi J. 2001. Philosophy and the African Predicament. Ibadan: Hope Publications. Oguejiofor, Obi J. 2010a. In praise of African philosophy, (Nnamdi Azikiwe University, Awka, Inaugural lectures series no. I4). Enugu: Victojo Production Services. Oguejiofor, Obi J. 2010b. Beyond contextual determinism in our philosophy. In Personhood and personal identity: A philosophical study, ed. Martins F. Asiegbu and Jerry C. Chukwuokolo, xii–xvi. Enugu: Snaap Press. Okere, Theophilus I. 2005. Keynote address. In The scramble for Africa: The scramble continues, ed. Theophilus I. Okere and Chukwudi A. Njoku, 6–10. Owerri: Assumpta Press. Okere, Theophilus I., and Chukwudi A. Njoku, eds. 2005. The scramble for Africa: The scramble continues. Owerri: Assumpta Press. Okolo, Chukwudum B. 1993. African social and political philosophy: Selected essays. Nsukka: Fulladu Publishing Company.

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Oluwole, Sophie B. 2014. Socrates and Orunmila: Two patron saints of classical philosophy. Lagos: Ark Publishers. Ramose, Mogobe B. 2002. African philosophy through Ubuntu, revised edn. Harare: Mond Books. Searle, John R. 1995. The construction of social reality. New York: Free Press. Searle, John R. 2006. Social ontology: Some basic principles. Anthropological Theory 6 (1): 12–29. Wiredu, Kwasi. 1992. Problems in Africa’s self-definition in the contemporary world. In Person and community, Ghanaian philosophical studies 1, ed. Kwasi Wiredu and Kwame Gyekye, 59–70. Washington, DC: Council for Research in Values and Philosophy.

Suffering and the Encounter of the Other in African Spaces

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Austine E. Iyare

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Suffering of the Other in African Communities . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Other as a Source of Suffering . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Hospitality and Our Moral Duty Toward the Other . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

In this chapter, I argue from African contexts that suffering is ontologically encapsulated in different forms into the being of the other. I develop three different aspects of this encounter of the other with suffering. First, I argue that although suffering is always a part of our ontic human experiences in that all beings suffer, the other suffers more than the self in an African community of selves. I buttress this point drawing on past and current evidences in African places such as the Boko Haram experience in Northern Nigeria and the xenophobia experience in South Africa. Second, I assert that the other is often seen as a source and cause of suffering by the self in African communities. A case in point once more is the xenophobia experience in South Africa. The first and second aspects necessitate a third aspect which I configure around the question. What is then our moral responsibility and obligation toward the other if the other’s being is naturally encapsulated in suffering? In answering this question, I show that the understanding of the being of the other in terms of the first and second aspects above necessarily results in the violent othering of the other and a denial of moral responsibility toward the other. I therefore attempt to reinterpret the understanding of the other as characterized with suffering and show that we do have a moral A. E. Iyare (*) Department of Philosophy, Faculty of Arts, Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_14

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responsibility toward the other as we expect of others to have the same moral responsibility toward us when we take the position of the other. I therefore conclude by an attempt to understand the other in terms of hospitality rather than suffering. Keywords

Suffering · Other · Osu caste · Xenophobia · Hospitality

Introduction Suffering is one major problem that human beings have continually experienced irrespective of one’s culture. The concept has different meanings, and its form differs from one society to another. Suffering generally means the experience of pain or distress as well as the aftermath of such experiences. Although sometimes identified with pain, suffering is better understood as a highly unpleasant emotional state associated with considerable pain or distress (Ireogbu 1995). It is the presence of pain, displeasure, and other forms of anguish: physical or spiritual in a given human person or sentient being (Ibid.). Whether and how much one suffers can vary in accordance with any meaning attached to the associated pain or distress or with expectation regarding the future. There seems to be an intuitive rationale justification of pain or other forms of suffering, when this is as a result of some guilt, crime, or misdemeanor one has committed. People usually accept suffering either as punishment for an offense or simply as nemesis which is a proportionate natural sanction to a proportionate evil act and to the law of Vendetta, which is revenge for offense committed (Ibid.). But in a situation where the cause or origin of suffering is not known, it raises some fundamental questions such as why one suffers for the sake of suffering or for unknown reason? For instance, an unexpected natural disaster such as an earthquake or a tsunami could cause untold pain, hardship, and suffering to people, which would include those who consider themselves as deserving of such harm due to wrongs done in the past and those who cannot simply fathom why they would have to go through such hardship or suffering. In Africa, there are several examples of different forms of suffering that people have experienced often caused by different levels of systemic failure resulting mainly from the selfishness of the political elite. These forms of suffering seem to negate one of the core values of African cultures, communalism, which Africa is known for. For instance, lack of water supply and power supply, good roads, and other essential infrastructures could easily result in the suffering of many and even death. Beyond these forms of suffering caused by the failure of the political and social systems, another major source of suffering in African societies, which forms the basis for this chapter, is deeply rooted ideas about reality in African traditions. For example, in many parts of Nigeria, there is a caste system such that the other who is a member of the caste system, although dwelling alongside with others who are excluded from the caste system in the same community of selves, suffers. In these communities, the indigenous people see the other of the caste system as different

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from them, thereby possessing different identities which causes them to suffer terrible forms of discriminations within the same community, denying them of the enjoyment of the same rights and privileges that others enjoy. Same negative othering that results in suffering is experienced in many other African societies. Such negative othering includes the notorious Boko Haram saga in Northern Nigeria; the disturbing xenophobia experience in South Africa; the Hutu-Tutsi othering in the Rwandan genocide, traces of which are still obvious today; the ill-treatment of disabled persons specifically persons with albinism in Tanzania and other Eastern African countries; the marginalization of the African woman by African men; and the racism against blacks in non-black spaces, to mention a few. The perception that the other is different from the self even in modern societies is largely responsible for the violence, inequality, injustice, and discriminations experienced by Africans within African places and beyond. These perceived differences permeate our social cultural, religious, and political life both in traditional and modern societies. These facts of suffering provoke moral concerns especially when there seems to be no rational justification for such suffering, and it raises some fundamental and ethical questions such as why should the other suffer in a community of selves? Why should the other be perceived as different? And what is the nature and extent of our obligations to those who suffer under these conditions?

The Suffering of the Other in African Communities How is the other made within a community of selves in African societies? Simply put, the community has an enclosed and rigid understanding of what a self ought to be. This would often consist of a rigid, comprehensive, and complex ontological system and structure of the nature of specific beings and being in general. Once this is clearly understood within the African community of selves, any human being that lacks in some way what is expected of her as a being or possesses beyond what is expected of her becomes the target of suspicion and hatred. But why should the other suffer in a supposed homogenous community of selves in which she dwells simply because she is in some way different from the status quo? Sometimes, such persons suffer to a great extent, and yet one cannot even pinpoint what exactly is the cause of the suffering. In what follows in this section, we shall examine a few examples of such othering in specific African spaces that result in suffering: the caste system, Boko Haram, and xenophobia. The caste system in Southeastern Nigeria is called Osu. The Osu caste system is an ancient practice in Igboland that discourages social interactions and marriage with a group of persons called Osu (Routledge Encyclopedia of Philosophy (https://www.routledge.com)). Who is an Osu? In the words of Francis Onwubuariri: The word Osu in Igbo land simply means a belief system, a traditional and religious belief that certain people should be discriminated from others. It is a name that is given to slave, untouchables and outcasts. It is the name given to those humans that are sacrificed to the

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gods, those that are banished from their community who do not have anything to do with the people of the society or community and finally those people that ran to a far distanced town due to inversion from their enemies, and so forth. Besides, Osu in the other hand in most cases is seen as signifying course, in other words, Osu is viewed as course, thus, umuosu are referred to as coursed people. This is the reason why calling one an Osu is more dangerous than calling him a thief, harlot or any bad name (Onwubuariri 2016).

Victor E. Dike adds that: The Osu, by definition, is a people sacrificed to the gods in Igbo community. And they assist the high priest of the traditional religion to serve the deities or the gods in their shrine. It is the belief of many Igbo traditionalists that the deities, which were (and are still) perceived in some quarters as being very powerful, would wreck havoc in the society, if they are not appeased. In some special circumstances, those who hold the traditional beliefs of the Igbos could transform a Diala who committed certain atrocities against the land, into an Osu. This process involved intricate rituals (offering of libations and sacrificing animals to the earth goddess). Some of the ancestors of the present-day Osu people inherited their dehumanizing social status this way. That method is now a thing of the old; Western influence has affected this practice. Presently, one could acquire the Osu status through inheritance and marriage. (Dike 2002)

In Igbo communities, the group of persons labelled Osu by these communities are discriminated against, labelled as subhuman beings, and forbade to participate in most social ceremonies in their communities. In some situations, they usually have designated areas in the community where they live. Most often, they are denied some rights and also they do not enjoy the same kind of freedom other members of their community enjoy. Even in modern times, it is seen as a taboo for an Igbo person to get married to an Osu. One may wonder why such discrimination still holds sway in modern time. But the truth remains that even in modern societies where such discriminations do not appear so pronounced in those communities where they exist, the stigma attached to these people referred to as Osu still lives with them. And this is very dehumanizing and worst of psychological suffering. The caste system is common not only to the Igbos of Southeastern Nigeria but also to some other Nigerian communities. People in these communities in their darkness and ignorance called an innocent person “Osu,” a thing given to the idols and thereafter became an outcaste and his children and children’s children forever (Igwe and Akolowu 2014). According to O. W. Igwe and G. O. Okolokwu: The Osu are treated as inferior human beings in a state of permanent and irreversible disability and are subjected to various forms of abuse and discriminations. They are made to live separately from the freeborn. They reside in most cases very close to the shrines and market places. In extreme cases they are not allowed to dance, drink, hold hands, associate or have sexual relations with Nwadiala. Further, they are not allowed to break Kola nuts (an offering of peace) at meetings. At the level of spirituality, an Osu cannot be allowed to pour libation or pray to the gods on behalf of a freeborn at a community gathering. It is believed that such prayers will bring calamity and misfortune. An Osu may find it difficult fulfilling a desire to occupy political position in Igboland particularly, where a Diala has indicated interest (Ibid.).

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These are some of the psychological suffering these people go through as a result of the difference. Igwe and Okolowu also explain that the discrimination against the Osu is evidenced in such cases as parents administering poison to their children, in a desperate move to perpetually wipe out the stigma, disinheritance (in a situation where a freeborn marries Osu), ostracism, organized attack, heaping harvest offering separately in churches, denial of membership in social clubs, violent disruption of marriage ceremonies, denial of chieftaincy titles, deprivation of property, and expulsion of wives (Ibid.). “The discriminations are more pronounced in the area of marriage. An Osu cannot marry a freeborn. The belief is that any freeborn that marries an Osu defiles the family. Consequently, freeborn families are always prepared against any of their own desiring to marry an Osu. Every available “arsenal” is assembled to scuttle the arrangement. This scar is so feared that marriages in most Igbo communities are preceded by very thorough and rigorous investigations (Francis Onwubuka). The othering of the Osu is thus violent and causes a lot of suffering to those othered even today. The Boko Haram experience in Nigeria portrays a situation where the other suffers as a result of their ideological difference. In less than two decades ago, the northeastern part of Nigeria was relatively calm and peaceful before the development of some Islamic fundamentalist group. The propagation of this ideology by members of the sect Boko Haram created a religious and ideological difference in the North East. The Islamic sect believes politics in Northern Nigeria has been hijacked by a group of corrupt and false Muslims and, also, that westernization has bred corruption in Nigeria policy and therefore wants to wage a war against westernization of all sorts in the county by creating a theocratic state ruled by Sharia law (Anyadike 2013). Since August 2011, the Boko Haram sect has bombed so many public places and churches in Nigeria’s northeast. The activities of this sect have created so much fear in the minds of the other members of these communities who do not believe or share their extremist ideology. As a result of this difference, the other suffers more in the northeastern of Nigeria. As Olugbenga Oke-Samuel and Ayoduwa St. Emmanuel explain, Boko Haram carries out “insurmountable violent and brutal attacks such as bombing of places of worship, suicide bombings, kidnapping, assassinations of individuals and groups especially Christian minorities, prominent politicians and clerics who opposed it” (Oke-Samuel and St. Emmanuel 2017). Existing literature presents theories explaining the source of this problem. The theories are divided into two broad spectrums. One views this problem as entirely internal. The other blames external forces. The former looks at socioeconomic factors, as well as deep-seated political and religious differences in the Nigerian society (Nkechi O. Anyadike). This has resulted in the killings of so many persons and several persons have been displaced in the Northeast. It has brought untold hardship to non-Muslims and Muslims alike in the same community of selves. What is clear from whatever factors or forces may be responsible for the being of book haram is that difference in ideology and convictions played and continue to play a key role. Hence, the targeted groups such as Christian minority groups in Northern Nigeria suffer because they in some way oppose the beliefs of the Boko Haram group.

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A more worrisome development is the suffering that the female other goes through due to the Boko Haram insurgence. In its Research Summary for February 2016 titled “Bad Blood,” UNICEF aptly captures this when it says in the Executive Summary that “Sexual violence is a characteristic of the ongoing insurgency in northeast Nigeria, during which hundreds of women and girls have been raped by fighters belonging to Jama’atul ahl al-sunnah li da’awati wal jihad (JAS), known globally as Boko Haram. Many of the women and girls were abducted, forcibly married to their captors and became pregnant as a result of rape” (UNICEF 2016). More worrisome is the fact that the female folks who have been rescued successfully by the Nigerian army personnel from these terrorists and the children they have forcibly been made to have before such rescue are often not accepted back into the community of selves. They are marginalized and discriminated against. They are thus often called “Bad Blood,” which explains the title of the UNICEF research summary. As the Research Summary puts it: The ongoing offensive of the Nigerian Armed Forces and the recapturing of swathes of territory held by JAS has led to large numbers of men, women and children being encountered and released. Women and girls who have been subjected to sexual violence have been returning to their communities in the internally displaced camps and host communities or returning to their local government areas (LGAs). Some are returning with their children who were born as a result of sexual violence. As they return, many face marginalisation, discrimination and rejection by family and community members due to social and cultural norms related to sexual violence. There is also the growing fear that some of these girls and women were radicalised in captivity. The children who have been born of sexual violence are at an even greater risk of rejection, abandonment and violence (Ibid.).

One can thus imagine the pain and suffering that such women and young girls and boys have gone through in the hands of these terrorists simply because such a notorious group considers them as different. A third specific example of the suffering of the other in African places that has been quite prominent in recent times is the experience of xenophobia in South Africa. Southern African xenophobia portrays a situation where the other suffers by virtue of being a foreigner. Xenophobia means the fear and hatred for strangers or anything that is strange and foreign. The indigenous people of South Africa sees foreigners as an other and therefore out of fear and hatred terrorized the foreigners by killing them and destroying their properties. As Mojalefa L. J. Koenane explains: Undoubtedly, xenophobia and xenophobic attitudes are subjects of interest throughout the world today. The world is battling with addressing the problem of migration without being xenophobia. Europe and the United States are faced with the same challenge in terms of their relationship with Islamic countries in particular. Generally, xenophobic attitudes are a result of a struggle for scarce resources which citizens believe they have more rights to than foreigners. In South Africa, xenophobia manifests itself through negative attitudes and violence against non-nationals from other parts of Africa, a phenomenon now popularly referred to as ‘Afrophobia’. Afrophobia signifies the idea that targets for violent attacks are black people suspected or known to be outsiders, particularly Africans such as Zimbabweans, Mozambicans, Somalis, Sudanese and lately Nigerians. (Koenane 2018).

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The xenophobic feelings and acts exhibited by the South African indigenous people portray them as unfriendly and unreceptive people. This feeling is captured in the words of Cynthia Khanyile, a street vendor in Jabulani, South Africa: “I hate foreigners. I don’t like them. They take business away from us. We work hard and then the foreigners come and take our business and jobs” (Khadija Patel and Azad Essa, www.aljazeera.com/aje/2015/xenophobiasouthafrica). Although quite difficult to explain why this is so, these attitudes may not be unconnected to their past historical experience of apartheid which makes them repulsive to, and suspicious of, foreigners. The portrayal of the foreigner as an other has led to untold suffering and pain for such persons. These cases of the suffering of the other examined in this section clearly show that suffering is often implied in othering in African places which raises the why-question. In the section that follows, we pay attention to one main reason why the others suffers in African spaces: the self sees the other as the source of her suffering and would therefore make life unbearable for the other who causes her suffering.

The Other as a Source of Suffering How does the Boko Haram terrorist perceive the West and its tradition that has now become globalized even in forms of education? How does the Igbo person see the Osu? How does the South African see the foreign other? A common answer to these questions is the other is a source of suffering for the self – the terrorist who dominates the northeast of Nigeria, the freeborn Igbo person, and the South African. Recall that the street vendor in South African, Cynthia Khanyile, says that the reason why she hates the foreigner is because they cause her suffering by, for instance, taking jobs that rightfully belong to South African indigenes. For this reason, Cynthia and many other South Africans see it as their responsibility to make life unbearable for the foreigner and to chase them away from their land. Apart from the cases of the caste system noticed in many African communities as mentioned above, the Boko Haram terrorism as a result of differences in religion and ideology and the xenophobia experience as witnessed in South Africa, there are more of such cases where the other does not only suffer but is labelled as the source of suffering. For instance, in the West, being black is a source of suffering obvious from the notorious history of racism, slavery, and colonialism. Black persons are discriminated against in most white countries simply because of being visibly different, being black. In the laws and constitutions of most countries of the world especially in the advanced and developed countries, we have all the elements of equality of freedom and justice. But most times when the other presents itself, the other suffers more in spite the position of the law. The idea of the laws of freedom, equity, and justice as it concerns the treatment of people perceived as different in a community becomes more of theory than in practice. Therefore, it is not uncommon to see so many black people being discriminated against in Europe and America due to their difference. Hence, every now and then, we witness different forms of maltreatment of the black other from most government agencies especially from

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the police and other security agencies in the West. The black other is most culpable and victimized in most cases. The rate of police brutality on the black other in these societies is usually intense due to discrimination. One major reason often provided for the continuous marginalization and racist treatment of black people in Europe and the United States is that black migrants to these places increase the rate of crime, take their women and jobs, and disrupt the status quo and systemic structure. In most societies in Africa and the world generally, ethnic and tribal differences also present an other such that people of different ethnic group suffer discrimination either as individuals or a group. If a person belongs to a small ethnic group where a larger ethnic group exists within the same society, she is seen as an other that must be normalized or subsumed into the one due to fear of being threatened in the future by such smaller groups. In this case the person suffers more in terms of denial of rights and privileges accrued to every member of the society because she is a source of threat. Same happens when one is not a member of a most popular tribe in the same community. The person often times is discriminated against for no just reason but simply because of the tribal differences which presents her as an other that dents the image of the popular group. There are some situations where language is what separates the self from the other resulting in difficulty for the other because the self sees the other as one who is challenging the linguistic status quo. When one finds herself in a community where the language spoken is not understood by her, she becomes an other because of his inability to communicate. This inability creates a psychological difference in one such that he is isolated and suffers some form of social alienation. This becomes worse if such community is not receptive to strangers or foreigners. Also, in some class-driven societies that are highly polarized such that the rich and highly placed persons live in secluded highbrow areas and the poor and downtrodden live in poor settlements, each class would not only see each other as an other, but they would always see each other as the cause of their respective suffering. The rich would accuse the poor of jealousy and hatred, and the poor would accuse the rich of being the primary cause of their pitiable situation. The rich would become apprehensive and not comfortable with the sight of such poor person in their environment. This scenario may not be so common and pronounced in those places where they exist, but this feeling of apprehension exhibited by the rich creates a feeling of inferiority complex in the psyche of the poor in their midst. These cases presented above show that the other is always viewed as a source of suffering in every situation it presents itself.

Hospitality and Our Moral Duty Toward the Other Flowing from the understanding above that suffering is a highly unpleasant emotional state associated with considerable pain or distress for anyone undergoing it, do we not have a moral responsibility to ensure that others do not suffer no matter their difference? The fact of suffering provokes moral concerns, especially when suffering is caused unnecessarily, and this raises some ethical questions, mainly regarding the

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nature and extent of our obligations to those who suffer. What should be our moral duty toward the other? One of the most notable philosophers who attempted to address the problem of suffering of the other and our moral responsibility toward the other is Emmanuel Levinas. In his famous book Thinking of the Other, he described suffering as “useless and meaningless.” Levinas’ phenomenological conception of suffering consists of an attempt to understand suffering from a presuppositionless basis as an object of human experience that fosters the encounter of the self with the other. In Levinas view, we should care and be responsible for the other. As Levinas observes: I understood responsibility as responsibility for the other, thus as responsibility for what is not my deed or for what does not even matter to me; or which precisely does matter to me is met by me as a face (Paul Marcus).

Levinas believes that the issue of suffering lies beyond mere knowledge of what it is and that it cannot make sense beyond what the self can contain, but rather suffering can be appreciated through the call to responsibility. He argued that one needs to attend to the suffering of others as he believes that the urgency of suffering cannot be consoled in meaning. The only morality therefore is one of kindness (Levinas 1990). This attention to the suffering of the other is the basis for the connection of human subjectivity; when we pay attention to the suffering of others, we are elevated from our own suffering because we become morally responsible to the other. Suffering becomes the ground for moral responsibility. Levinas suggests a kind of selfhood, one not simply lodged within familiar notions of responsibility for oneself. In a sense, Levinas goes further than mainstream psychoanalysis in that he posits and describes a selfhood mainly based on its responsibility for, and obligations to, others (Emmanuel Levinas). This position is similar to that of brotherhood known in Africa which suggests one becoming his brother’s keeper. It aligns with the popular African saying that if one takes care of his brothers, he has indirectly taken care of himself. Some religions also talk about helping those who suffer in our midst especially the poor. But for Levinas, he suggests that responsibility should not be seen as responsibility for oneself but that responsibility should be seen from the care we offer to the other in our communities. Within the African framework of thought, one concept that would be useful to explore in promoting hospitality toward the other in African spaces is Ubuntu. Ubuntu is no doubt one of the most popular African philosophical concepts, and it places emphases on communalistic living. In the words of Barbara Nussbaum: Ubuntu is the capacity in African culture to express compassion, reciprocity, dignity, harmony, and humanity in the interests of building and maintaining community. Ubuntu calls on us to believe and feel that: Your pain is my pain, my wealth is your wealth, and your salvation is my salvation. In essence, Ubuntu. . . addresses our interconnectedness, our common humanity, and the responsibility to each other that flows from our connection. (Nussbaum 2003)

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Koenane adds that: A person with Ubuntu is welcoming, hospitable, warm and generous, and willing to share. Such people are open and available to others, are willing to be vulnerable, are affirming of others and do not feel threatened that others are able and good, for they have a proper selfassurance that comes from knowing that they belong in a greater whole. They know that they are diminished when others are humiliated, diminished when others are oppressed and diminished when others are treated as if they were less than who they are. (Mojalefa L. J. Koenane)

These are very striking and important points to learn from the African concept of Ubuntu. Ubuntu thus promotes genuine hospitality toward the other. It promotes true friendship toward the stranger. It brings to our attention the obvious fact that the self is also an other to others just as others are to her. It becomes essential that we treat each other with love and respect.

Conclusion From our discussions above, it is clear that the problem of suffering is a perennial problem which exists in one form or the other in every human community. Despite the cosmopolitan appearance of our cities and influence of religion in our lives, some cultures and subgroups have continued to be guided by the dictates of longestablished traditions. These deeply rooted traditions have continuously and perpetually put the other in a disadvantaged and precarious situation of suffering. Even the civilized societies are also not free from this guilt of discrimination against the other as we see in the discrimination by whites against blacks. This discrimination is a rock-bottom attack on the personality of the victim from the membership of human community. In the words of Levinas, “this extreme passivity, helplessness, abandonment and solitude in pure suffering which is intrinsically senseless and condemned to itself with no way out, a beyond appear in the form of inter human (Levinas 1998).” This means we need to relate with each other with respect and dignity. This interhuman relation of the self and the other can foster the relative peace needed for global peace and development.

References Anyadike, Nkechi O. 2013. Boko Haram and national security challenges in Nigeria: Causes and solutions. Journal of Economic and Sustainable Development 4 (5): 14. Dike, Victor E. 2002. The Osu Caste System in Igboland: Discrimination based on descent. A paper presented to the Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination (CERD), 61st session of the international Dalit solidarity network, 2–3. Igwe, O.W., and G.O. Akolowu. 2014. The scar that has resisted Erasal: The discrimination of Osu in Igboland, Nigeria – Assessing the human rights implication. American International Journal of Contemporary Research 4 (1): 277.

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Ireogbu, Panthaleon. 1995. Metaphysics, the kpim of philosophy, 260. Owerri: International University Press Ltd. Koenane, Mojalefa L.J. 2018. Ubuntu and Philoxenia: Ubuntu and Christian worldviews as responses to xenophobia. HTS Theological Studies 74 (1): 1. Koenane, Mojalefa L.J. Ubuntu and Philoxenia, 2. Levinas, Emmanuel. 1990. Difficult freedom: Essay on Judaism. Trans. S. Head. Baltimore: The John Hopkins University Press. Levinas, Emmanuel. 1998. Thinking-of-the-other. Entre nous. New York: Columbia Press. Levinas, Emmanuel. 1985. Ethics and Infinity. Pittsburgh: Duquesne University Press. Marcus, Paul. Being for others; Emmanuel Levinas, ethical living and psychoanalysis, 95. Winscosin: Marquette University Press. Nussbaum, Barbara. 2003. Ubuntu: Reflections of a south African on our common humanity. Reflections 4 (4): 21. Oke-Samuel, Olugbenga, and St. Emmanuel, S. Ayoloowa. Boko Haram insurgence and its implications on the rights of the female gender in Nigeria. AGORA: International Journal of Juridicial Sciences, 1 (2017), 35. Onwubuariri, Francis. 2016. Appraising the Osu Caste System in Igboland within the context of complementary reflection. Igwebuike: An African Journal of Arts and Humanities 2 (4): 64. UNICEF. 2016. Bad Blood: Perception of children born of conflict-related sexual violence and women and girls associated with Boko Haram in Northeast Nigeria. International Alert, UNICEF, 6. Nigeria: UNICEF.

Pragmatics and Difference in the Social Othering of African Colonial Experience

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Jack A. Aigbodioh and Kenneth U. Abudu

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Pragmatics: Doing Things with Words . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Syntax of the One, the Other, and Difference . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The African Experience . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Difference and the African Otherness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Difference and the Pragmatic Othering of African Colonial Experience . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Pragmatics, beyond language, is construed here as the deliberate and surreptitious use of language, not just to communicate but “to do things” or recreate some desired order. Difference is, as it were, its philosophical correlation whose syntax, with the idea of the One and the Other, has been used to “make up” or to other the peoples and cultures of colonial Africa south of the Sahara. The purpose of this chapter is to examine how the philosophical affirmations or, simply, the language of difference and the inflectional use of pragmatics on certain terms such as “native,” “primitive,” and “savage” have served as a major plank for the establishment of the social Otherness of the African colonial experience. Put differently, what role, if any, does language play in the social othering of African colonial experience? To this end, we shall seek, first, to determine briefly the sense of critical narrative of how the social othering of African colonial experience was attained via the combined themes of pragmatics and Difference.

J. A. Aigbodioh (*) · K. U. Abudu Department of Philosophy, Faculty of Arts, Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected]; [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_28

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The chapter concludes that although difference and othering are necessary conditions of human existence, the denigrating othering via language of the African colonial experience by the European colonialists was a case of calling the dog a bad name in order to hang it; and its consequences remain embedded in the physical, metaphysical, and transcendental architectonics of Africa till date. Keywords

Pragmatics as pragmatricks · Difference · The One and the Other · Colonial African experience · And verbicide

Introduction The thrust of this chapter is to examine how the combined themes of pragmatics and the philosophical affirmations of Difference embedded in the African colonial experience were attained via syntax of Difference. Consequently, we shall proceed, first, to analyze the central points of the philosophical syntax of the One, the Other, and Difference (as we understand it) and then undertake some narrative of the role of pragmatics in the European colonialist invention of the African otherness. In particular, we argue that apart from making unjustified philosophical affirmations, like decisions, about Africa, the European colonialists had relied on the inflectional (re)definition of such terms as “primitive,” “savage,” “native,” and insisted on reinventing such conceptual dichotomies/dualities as developed and the underdeveloped (Third) Worlds, the white and the black (Nigger/Negro) racial distinctions, race and tribe, logical and pre-logical, scientific, and superstitious. We argue that the othering of African colonial experience via language was a case of calling the dog a bad name in order to establish the cause to hang it.

Pragmatics: Doing Things with Words Pragmatics, not to be confused with pragmatic, is a branch of linguistics, which studies how context creates its semantic condition and contributes to the meaning of words, be they phrases, statements, propositions, or other forms of expressions. By extension, meaning of words could be understood to include a body of knowledge claims, ideologies, or beliefs systems, as we do in this chapter. The concern of pragmatics embodies, among others, the speech-act theory which seeks to explain how a speaker could use language to accomplish some goals in the form of actions or reactions, as well as how hearers determine or are expected to determine the meaning of the words. Apart from reinforcing the communicative functions of language, it is a theory of how language or words can be used to perform certain actions or, as its protagonist, J.L. Austin, puts it in the title of his celebrated work, How To Do Things with Words (Austin 1962).

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In the context of pragmatics therefore, it is easy to appreciate why the following paraphrase from Jean-Paul Sartre’s “Preface” to Frantz Fanon’s The Wretched of the Earth could be useful for introducing the problem and purpose for this chapter. Sartre wrote: In the [African] colonies. . .the European elite undertook to manufacture a native elite. They picked out promising adolescents. . . branded them, as with red-hot iron,, with the principles of Western culture;. . . stuffed their mouths [and brains] full with high-sounding phrases, grand-glutinous words that stuck to the teeth [and the intellect]. After a short stay in the mother country they [the native elite] were sent home, white-washed. These walking lies had nothing left to say to their brothers and sisters; they only echoed. . . from Paris. . . London. . .. Amsterdam (1980:7).

Thus, for example, it is assumed here that most, if not all, of the racial affirmations and anthropological labelling or characterizations of Africa/Africans by the European colonialists amount to words or speeches which were meant to create some context of understanding. The African elites are thus symbolically portrayed as European molds or industrial products which are stuffed with Western linguistic/ conceptual schemes and epistemological principles and categories. But as mere finished products, they could only be replicas, as prototypes or archetypes of the European cultural values, as expressed in her social and political culture, science, philosophy, or metaphysics. Thereafter, they were repatriated from the Western educational factories to their respective African homelands, ideologically “whitewashed.” They were, as it were, walking encyclopedias, European ideologues, and alter ego, “packaged” for the gullible consumption of their “untutored,” “primitive,” “savage,” “native,” “idolatrous,” and “Third World or undeveloped” Africans back home. The purpose was to actively impress on Africans their own inferior otherness and awaken them to appreciate and adopt, at all cost, the European modernist spirit and new humanity. The grand consequence of the emergent stereotype, as it turned out, was the creation and establishment of a new African universe of discourse which was attained, to a large extent, by the instrumentality of pragmatics. Hence, we can infer that the entire colonialist program of education for Africans was an exercise of pragmatics. Besides the African elites serving as walking encyclopedias of “words” which were intended by the European colonialists to recreate and reorder the African peoples and cultures, there were deliberate and surreptitious efforts on the part of the colonialists to establish permanent foundations of difference and/or otherness of Africa and everything she represents. For example, some prominent philosophers, earlier mentioned, such as David Hume, Immanuel Kant, and Hegel, evolved philosophies which were intended to denigrate Africans and their cultures, just as some anthropologists, such as Levy-Bruhl and Evans-Pritchard, and some Christian missionaries were commissioned to determine whatever characteristics, be they natural or cultural, would serve to differentiate permanently Europeans from Africans. Pragmatics is a word we intend to use here in two different but related senses, though the relation is by inference only. In its ordinary and customary sense,

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pragmatics is, as a subfield (alongside syntax and semantics) of linguistics, concerned with how words, expressions, and sentences are used or could be used by the speaker, in some specifiable contexts (conditions), to sway, implicate, and commit the listener to adopt an attitude and to act in some prescribed manner which satisfies the original intent of the speaker. This rendering assumes that language can be used to function beyond being a means of communicating information, to being used to get the hearer to recognize and accomplish some intended actions (tasks) of the speaker. This is the theme of J.L. Austin’s celebrated work, How to Do Things with Words. Implied in this sense, however, is the view that the exercise of pragmatics is contextual and takes into consideration the premeditated intent of the speaker. The speaker is thus presumed to have a ready, deliberate strategy to cajole or manipulate the hearer, by some means possible, to accept the speaker’s proposals and to act in conformity with his/her grand design. Under this condition, the speaker is most likely to ascribe to him/herself the moral authority of being at liberty to impute and deploy more meanings than what available lingustic syntax and semantics legitimately permit. This is the basis of our postulation here of a second sense of pragmatics, namely, the sense in which it means that the speaker is at liberty to redefine his/her terms by inflecting or modulating their traditional meanings, reinventing certain conceptual schemes, or resorting to some practical linguistic tricks (or pranks) in order to meet the projected target. This second sense of the word is what we would refer to as “pragmatricks” or a “prankmatricks” in the syntactical context of othering in African colonial experience. We intend to argue in this chapter that language and philosophy provided the European colonialists a firm basis to surreptitiously recreate and re-other the social-cultural realities and identities of Africa South of the Sahara.

The Syntax of the One, the Other, and Difference Syntax is the study of the relations among linguistic symbols. The One, the Other, and Difference are such linguistic symbols which form a constellation that does not repel but bonds its constituent symbols. At the same time, the configuration of the symbols affirms a philosophical thesis about reality and about certain experiences of the real. In this context the real is not merely formal, transcendental, nor logical. The affirmation or decision they make about the real engenders its own logic in which Difference emerges as the organizing factor, after contradiction (“dialectic”), existence, and structure. This means that Difference is the real organizing principle or the philosophical decision which plays out in the definition of othering. For this purpose, it must not be allowed (a) to depend or be subsumed or consumed by such other factors as contradiction, existence, and structure, and by so doing, deprive it of autonomy and make it a partial or secondary operator; (b) to be a category among the “transcendentals” which are associated with “Being” and “Unity”; and (c) it must decide and affirm its own syntactic structure in a given situation (Laruelle 2010:3–4). Consequently, Difference is a phenomenon which inheres and is immanent in the

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natural order of a given state of affairs. It is a thesis about reality as well as a syantactic mode of articulating philosophical language (Ibid). It is a necessity for the existence of the identity of the individual or group of individuals in the same way it reinforces the otherness of the Other. How do the One, the Other, and Difference stand or connect to each other to produce a coherent semantic theory about cultural identities? In other words, how does the concept of othering contribute to the determination of the identities of the One and the Other, as well as contribute to the task of isolating the relations of Difference? The purpose of analyzing the syntax of these apparently abstract terms is to enable us to justify, in our later narrative, how the African colonial experience was a product of pragmatics and difference. At first, it would seem as if the problem which is introduced by the alleged syntactical relations among the three terms is a strange one and that it only surfaced in recent philosophical discourse. But it is not. Rather, it has a robust historical background in ancient Greco-Roman philosophy which has resonated in philosophical thoughts through the medieval and modern periods to contemporary times. How is this so? The seminal idea of the syntax about the One and the Other first occurred in the perennial aporias of the ancient Greco-Occidental problem of the One and the Many, Unity and Multiplicity/Diversity, the Universal and the Particular, Permanence and Change, etc. These dualities were generated by the various Milesian schools of thought who had shared the reductive cosmological views about everything or All being ultimately reducible to water, earth, air, fire, or the indeterminate. Attempts to resolve these aporias did not come easy. Plato’s theory of Forms or Ideas, and Aristotle’s doctrine of Act and Potency were posited to resolve and reconcile those apparent inconsistent dualities about the one and the same reality. During the Medieval period of philosophy, Thomas Aquinas resurrected the Aristotelian model. Rather than resolve the polarizations created by the dualities/dichotomies, the proposed solutions have been viewed to merely reinforce the reality of Difference and, hence, the mutual involvement of the One and the Other. Like the ancient categories enunciated in the preceding paragraph, the Kantian dichotomy between noumena and phenomena and the phenomenological thesis of Edmund Husserl merely made apparent, in the words of Francois Laruelle, “the oldest concrete philosophical matrix, a matrix of the empirico-transcendental parallelism and/or circle (with all its variants: logico-physico-transcendental)” (2010:16). What this implies is that the apparent contrariety of opposition of the One and the Other creates a unifying relation that binds them both and everything else possible in all directions. What results is an all-embracing system in which the real is all, which entails the universal. At the same time, there is inversely the “all of the real” which appears not only as an element of the real but also as Other. It is this Other which gives rise to what Laruelle refers to as “ontico-ontological difference in its broader sense” (Ibid p.16). In this context, as in the contexts of Nietzsche, Heidegger, and Derrida, “differences” are “concrete positive types,” while the Unity they create is transcendent insofar as it is affected by what unifies” (Ibid). As Laruelle concludes,

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It is the matrix of duel Unity, of circle or of parallelism, more or less deformed and distended, but in which each term is indeed the essence of the other, but on the condition of being affected by it, that unilateral duality, founded upon a ‘unary’ and no longer duel conception of the transcendental, must, if not break, at least reject as a domain of experience immediately reputed not to be the One; as reality affected by the (non) One (Ibid).

Here, then, is the idea of the One which is entangled on all sides by transcendental forces that bind it and reinforce the other, forming diverse systems of Difference which tend to reconcile themselves in “the reciprocity or unity of their heterogeneity” in an “empirico-transcendental matrix” (Ibid). In the preceding analysis, “the One becomes Difference in its most important ‘metaphysical’ form when it unifies itself with what...must thus appear as its contrary: division and all the modes of transcendence, cut, analysis, decision, nothingness, withdrawal, etc.” (Ibid, p. 22). This implies that Difference is the unity of contraries which is at once the unity of the disjunction or division of contrariesjunction of contraries is a form of indivision. This is the manner in which Nothingness becomes Being. Consequently, Difference is the meeting point of an “inclusive disjunction in which each ‘neither..nor’ or ‘not’ is so little simply negative that it immediately returns or produces indivision. Another way of viewing Difference is as a binding force which “does not without, always immediately as well, retying the thread which ensures that the contraries would never cease to be ‘all of piece’ Even though it contains the one, difference it is not a category under which one may order a variety of contraries, nor is it an Idea which sublates the variety. Rather, it tends toward being a “consumption, a mutual ‘intertwining’ of contraries, which defeats both subsumptions and supersumption, overcoming both” (Ibid. pp. 23–24). The holistic overview of difference above reveals three related levels in association with the One and the Other. The levels are about how Difference operates or is operated to create and reorder different categories of beings. First, Difference presents us, according to Laruelle with an object-being, an ontic difference, to which corresponds the empirical level of Difference. At this level, Difference presents us only with a situation of “reciprocal exclusions of contraries,” as with two or more neighbors, communities, or groups which share contiguous space over a period of time. Under such circumstances, for example, in pre-colonial African societies, individuals or communities perceived their ontic differences at the empirical level wherein time and space served to create mutual exclusion of the One from the Other (Ibid p.33). The second level occurs when Difference is manifested as “ontological difference,” which creates a condition of “metaphysics of metaphysics, the transcendence of presence relative to present being” (Ibid). This is referred to by Laruelle as the a priori level of Difference. Here, there is a radical break from the ordinary mundane mode of difference between Being and beings. But it is not empirical and not yet transcendental, although it articulates the One and the Other in divisive terms. The third level of Difference is alleged by Laruelle to be transcendental in the more rigorous sense of a thought about the One, which is to say, immanence inasmuch as it at least, surpasses every empirical, generic, and even ontological

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division. This is the level at which the slogans of overcoming and even critique of representation take on real content. In the operations of difference and othering, “Language speaks: this is not a thesis about language, it is a way of making language speak that itself takes the form of a transcendental tautology, the unity of a same on the higher side of the disjunction of noun and verb. The logico-grammatical correlation of subject and verb is the reified form of unity-of-the-same or a Difference that joins in all one piece” (Ibid).

The African Experience The characterization of “African experience” has taken different forms depending on what aspect of Africa one is concerned with, for example, political, sociological, religious, ethical, scientific, or artistic aspect of Africa. In this chapter, we shall employ the word “Africa” to refer to the geographical territory, culture, and peoples of Africa South of the Sahara during the colonial period beginning from the fifteenth century A.D. till late twentieth century. Hence, an experience will be characterized as “African” if it pertains to Africa South of the Sahara. But any experience that is tagged “African” can hardly be regarded as monolithic. Rather, any African experience would be as diverse as over a thousand different communities which occupy Africa, even if the people were of one color with one language. Whatever differences may be alleged about the general experience of Africa would invariably depend on the specific subject of interest and would be a matter of varying degrees. The monolithic conception of Africa as a composite of peoples of one stock who share a common culture is one that is believed to dissolve the whole problem of the “Other.” The argument for this is that there are no experiences that are same or common for one and another. Granted that there are no common events, trials, and struggles which define a homogenous African experience, many African scholars agree that the encounter of African peoples and cultures with the European colonialists brought with it certain culture traits, events and activities about which some broad generalizations can be made. For example, the African peoples and traditional cultures, in the wake of colonialism, were conquered, subjugated, and forcibly administered; their citizens were enslaved and/or sold into slavery and the natural resources of those people exploited to the advantage of the colonialists. Hence, these events can be said to be a common experience of African peoples and culture, and knowing that such events are traumatic and humiliating to any human condition, we can as well infer that the traditional African societies were beaten hollow, denigrated, deprived, impoverished, and distorted. At the same time, it is generally agreed that colonialism brought out “already contaminated” cultural values (Appiah 1992:72). For the purpose of this chapter, therefore, African experience may be construed as referring to the plurality of historical events, activities, trials, struggles and challenges, as well as the totality of the changed human conditions, owing to the encounter in and after the advent of European colonialists till date. The period

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before colonialism, no doubt, stretches far beyond recorded history to prehistorical age. During this period, it cannot be said that African empires, communities, and groups were completely at peace with each other. Human existence is one that is naturally plagued with one form of conflict or the other. For example, internecine wars, internal squabbles, and/or natural catastrophes, including earthquakes, floods, and famine are notable natural disasters. It stands to reason to believe that those earlier African empires, communities, or groups were relatively stable in their respective cultural activities and values, including their social-political organizations, architecture, farming methods/productive systems, and mode of transportation. Cultural activities and values as well as and their linguistic and conceptual schemes could have differed only from one another, depending on their proximity or remoteness to one another. In other words, there were no radical differences between the cultures because they shared a common environment and were familiar with each other’s language and epistemic schemes even though they varied slightly. Even so, the phenomenon of othering was not entirely absent in the African precolonial cultures because, as we have pointed out in our discussion of the syntax of othering, the process of othering is an indispensable factor in the affairs of humans and is definitive of the order of nature. Othering creates and shapens identities of individuals, groups, and communities.

Difference and the African Otherness The first step which difference took in order to create the Other of the African experience is to cast the “difference” between the Europeans and Africans in philosophical decisions or affirmations. The articulations of the difference were made and popularized, for example, by David Hume, Immanuel Kant, G.W.F. Hegel, and Lucien Levy-Bruhl. The philosophy that emanated in the sociohistorical context of European colonialism was portrait of Europe as prepossesive of the ideal culture and model of humanity. For example, Hume wrote in a famous footnote to his essay On National Character: I am apt to suspect the Negroes to be naturally inferior to the whites. There scarcely ever was a civilized nation of that complexion, nor even an individual eminent in action or speculation. No ingenious manufacturers amongst them, no arts, no sciences. On the other hand, the most rude and barbarous of the whites such as ancient Germans, the present Tartars, have still something eminent about them...such a uniform and a constant difference could not but happen...If nature had not made original distinction between those breeds of men. (Hume as cited by Eze 1997:7)

In the preceding context, a conscious effort is made by Hume to depict the difference between European and Africans as something which is natural, permanent, and incontrovertible. The alleged categories are clear – the Negroes (blacks) and the whites, who are characterized as follow:

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Negroes (blacks) Naturally inferior Black in complexion Uncivilized Non-eminent in action and speculation Lacking manufacturers, arts, and science Most rude and barbarous

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Whites Naturally superior White in complexion Civilized Eminent in action and speculations Possess manufacturers, arts, and science Polite and decently humane

To reinforce the natural difference between the Europeans and Africans, Hume stressed that the difference is “constant,” that is, permanent, and “original,” that is, immanent in or derived from nature itself. These verbal distinctions “mark out,” “frame up” or “make up” African peoples and cultures as being “outside” of European class of humanity. Hence, Africans are portrayed as different by being a subhuman species. Hume’s position was corroborated by Kant, who wrote: Mr Hume challenges anyone to cite a simple example in which a Negro has shown talents, and asserts that among the hundreds of thousands of blacks... not a single one was ever found who presented anything great in arts or science... So fundamental the difference between the two races of man and it appears to be great in regard to mental capacities as in colour. (Kant as cited by Goldwaithe 1960:110–111)

Immanuel Kant went further to do a similar othering or social reordering of the African peoples and cultures in racial terms. He alleged that there are varieties of different races of humans which he claimed, justified his hierarchical ordering of races thus: STEM Genus: whitw brunette First race, very blond (Northern Europe) Second race: Copper-red (America) Third race: Black (Senegambia) Fourth race: Olive-yellow (Indians) (Eze: 7) Thus Kant based his hierarchical classification of the different races of humans on the color of the skin, namely, white, red, black, and yellow, relative to the ideal skin model of “white brunette.” Given Kant’s explication of Hume’s “natural” thesis about the Negro/white distinction, it is reasonable to think that Kant justified his classification from the first to the fourth race as representing their descending order of mental capacity and cultural refinement. Hence, the higher the race on the ladder of the said hierarchy, the more enterprising and mental capability is associated with it, and the lower the race in the ladder, the less capacity, or simply, the more stupid. Perhaps, there is where the philosophy of Difference has played out more than in the famous Hegel’s twin treatise, entitled Lectures on Philosophy of History and Lectures on the Philosophy of Right. In the first of these, Hegel is alleged to have situated Africa outside of history by representing her as absolute, nonhistorical

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beginning of the dialectical movement of the spirit. In this context, Africans are viewed as incapable of rational or philosophical thought as well as incapable of moral reasoning and conduct. This supposed humanistic defect was, therefore, held to be reason for the Africans’ lack of laws, religion, social and political values, or orderliness and science. Verbally and philosophically captured as the underdeveloped spirit, Hegel posited that Africa was a wasteland which was characterized by “lawlessness,” “fetishism,” and “cannibalism.” As such, Africa was depicted by Hegel as awaiting the conquering European soldiers and missionaries for the imposition of “order” and “morality” (Eze: 8). For this reason, Hegel had argued that Africans deserved to be enslaved by the Europeans, and this was more so because slavery through colonialism benefitted them in not only being a source of education to them but also serving as an opportunity for Europe to inseminate them with its “reason, ethic, culture and mores, and thereby historicized it (Africa) (Ibid). Sean Gray is alleged to have reported that within a few pages of Hegel’s Philosophy of History, African peoples are qualified with such terms as “barbarism” and “savagery,” “barbarous ferocity,” “terrible hordes,” “barbarity,” “animal man,” “savagery and lawlessness,” “wild confusion,” and “unhistorical, undeveloped spirit” (Eze:18). Such language of recreating or reordering of the Otherness of African peoples and culture can only be only understood in the linguistic context of pragmatics. Aside from such othering of Africans by pragmatics and the philosophy of Difference, there were the European sociological and anthropological scholars, such as Levy-Bruhl and Evans-Pritchard, who appeared to have been commissioned to embark on the social science venture of re-inventing categorical terms or language for demonizing the African peoples and cultures. The motive was to sustain an enduring image of whatever is “African” as “black,” “savage,” “primitive,” “barbaric,” and so on. To this end, Levy-Bruhl and Evans-Pritchard had reported that the “African mind” is “pre-logical,” “mystical,” and “irrational”; or that if at all it is “logical,” it is so only to an inferior extent, compared to the “Western scientific mind.” As we have indicated earlier, it was all an experience in rebranding the African peoples and cultures in order to demonize them. The means of the rebranding exercise was language and philosophy. In the following section, we shall critically expose the strange and inventive content of some systematically misleading terms with which Africans and their cultures have been characterized and which have suffused the semantic environment of African discourse till date.

Difference and the Pragmatic Othering of African Colonial Experience The othering of the African experience did not end with the “naturalization” of the supposed intrinsic qualities which mark out the Europeans from Africans. Social science research programs, mostly history, sociology, and anthropology, were deliberately mounted to further embark on generating linguistic terms which finally put paid to the inexorable difference between the white and the black. The

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anthropological studies of Africa by Levy-Bruhl and Evans-Pritchard gave reports that the “African mind” is “pre-logical,” “mystical,” and “irrational,” or that if it were to be considered logical at all, it was only to some degree which, when compared to the European mind, is “inferior.” Consequently, Africans were presupposed to possess “primitive mentality” as against the European “scientific minds” of the ideal rational human. Flowing from these characterizations also was that the African continent represented a negation of Europe. For example, while the European modernity was indicative of “order,” “progress,” “culture,” and “civilization,” Africa was in a state of “disorder” and “underdevelopment,” where “irrationality,” “savagery,” and “darkness” defined existence. As Eze puts it, Africa was “projected” as the big, bad, primitive evil, and the “Dark continent” (Ibid), while “reason,” “humanity,” and “light” dictated the social-political existence of Europe. In Hopes and Impediments, Chinua Achebe opines that those anthropological reports are alleged to have been commissioned after the colonial military invasion of an African territory, or, as the case may be, after the African indigenous authorities and peoples had revolted against the European invasion (Achebe 1990). The language and verbiage which were thus generated by the anthropological studies were intended to provide European administrations and missionaries with useful categorical information for the psychological conditioning and repression of the African peoples (Eze, p. 10). The anthropological generation of the terms of categorization of the Europeans and Africans usually involved two steps. First, there is what may be referred to as “verbicidal” step, which entails, as it were, the killing, murder, or obliteration of the original meaning of a term. This is the case, for example, with such words as “native,” “primitive,” “savage,” “tribe,” “pagan,” “heathen,” “idolatry,” and “fetish” (Idowu 1975:108). The other is what may be termed “verbigerative” or “verbegenerative” step. This is the process of deliberately and surreptitiously seeking to generate a new strange meaning for an already existing term and ensure its internalization by persistent repetition in order to stigmatize the African people as the other or another. The new meaning sets aside the other and impresses on both the colonialist and African people that there is a (social) scientifically justified basis for the difference between the one and the other. The difference was usually supposed to be irreconcilable. We shall examine, in some cursory manner, how some of the terms earlier mentioned took a new lexicographical meaning. Bolaji Idowu refers to the anthropological exercise as one of the coinage or adoption of “names” to describe “what appeared to be indescribable” in African theocratic universe and treats those terms simply as “errors of terminology” (Ibid). In the remaining part of this section, we shall review how some of those terms took on derogatory meanings through the twin steps of verbicide and verbigeneration. Consider, for example, the ordinary harmless term ‘native’ which is devoid of any derogatory connotation. Derived from the Latin nativus, meaning to “born,” “come into existence by birth,” “natural,” or “inherit,” the English noun native is defined by The Concise Oxford Dictionary as “one born, whose parents are domiciled in a place” and its corresponding adjective as “belonging to a person or thing by

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nature....” In this context, everyone who is born into a place, community, or nation by his/her parents would be a native of that place. Hence, a Nigerian would be a native of Yoruba, Ibo, Hausa, or some other ethnic group in Nigeria, just as all nonNigerians would be natives of one or another social group outside Nigeria, say, Ghana, Kenya, England, Russia, and India. Unfortunately, however, the European colonialists deliberately set aside the original innocuous meaning of the term “native” and gave it a derogatory connotation so as to reorder the new society of Africans and non-Africans. The term was then made to acquire the contentious meaning of one who is “backward” or belong to a “non-Western people of the world” (Idowu: 114). Accordingly, Idowu opines that “this is so, thanks to the anthropologists and the missionaries and the stay-at-home investigators who must always find terms for unmistakable distinction between themselves and those ‘others’” (Ibid). Hence, the word became a useful tool for discriminating between persons of Western origins, Christians, and non-Christians born and living in Europe and America. In particular, Charles Williams in his Shadows of Ecstasy succinctly puts it, thus: My dear fellow, when you have been out there (in Africa) as long as I have, you will realize there is no such thing as a civilized native. The dark centuries of savagery are too deeply rooted in the native character, and although a native may live peaceably and behave to all intents and purpose like a white man, you can never be sure that his heritage will not come out in him one day. And that goes for Africa North, South, East and West. (cited by Idowu, 113)

Another example to be examined here is the term primitive. According to The Concise Oxford Dictionary, “primitive” is defined as “Early, ancient, old fashioned, simple, rude, original, primary.” Accordingly, Bolaji Idowu opines that the term “primitive” cannot be appropriate in certain contexts in which it is being currently applied. With reference to any people in the world today, it is clear that “ancient,” “original,” or “primary” does not apply. However, the othering of African colonial experience is evident in the description of Africans as “primitive” as we earlier noted the positions of Levy-Bruhl and Evans-Pritchard. Another terms which has been used to socially order Africans is “fetishism.” In particular, The Encyclopaedia of Religion and Ethics says: Central Africa is the promised land of fetishism; yet the Negro, according to a statement by Albert Reville, which means to be well founded, distinguishes clearly between fetishes, which he believes to be inhabited by a spirit, an amulet, which he wears about his person but does not worship, even when they produce the form of a living being. As a matter of fact, fetishism is a direct antecedent of idolatry, and is everywhere co-existent with it. The fetish and the idol are both conceived as the body of a spirit; they are used for the same purpose and employed under the same conditions (Idowu, 125).

The above illustration suggests the extent to which some words have been “pragmatically” configured to ensure that Africans are seen and treated differently from the Europeans. Hence, the use of fetishism about the African colonized experience as a derogatory concept is epiphenomenal of the importance the use of pragmatics has on the social othering of Africans.

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Regarding the term “tribe,” the original meaning has been bastardized to suit the pragmatics othering the African colonial experience. In particular, The Pocket Oxford Dictionary is explicit in the derogatory and discriminatory meaning of the word. It is defined as a “Group or people in a primitive or barbarous stage of development acknowledging the authority of a chief and usually regarding themselves as having a common ancestor. . .set of people that can be lumped together (usually) contemptuously. . .).” The Advanced Learner’s Dictionary further improves on this: it means “Racial group, especially one united by language and customs, living as a community under one or more chiefs. . .(usually contemptuously) group of persons” (Idowu, 116). Accordingly, whatever may have been the etymological meaning of tribe, it is worthy to note that it has departed from anything decent and honorable and has come to bear exclusively the connotation of a dirty, ragged, and disreputable fragment of humanity. And this is why, in spite of every attempt to defend the indefensible, Africans should feel offended when the word is applied to them cheerfully and as a matter of course by people who will not apply it to themselves and will resent it forcibly if applied to them. Consequent upon this, the word should be abolished from any vocabulary of any references to Africa (Ibid). Paganism is probably one of the oldest names that has been adopted to describe the religion and lifestyles of the so-called primitive or “uncivilized” peoples of the world. From its etymological origin, it is derived from the Latin word paganus which means a village-dweller or a country man, a person who lives away from the civilized community. Thus, originally, the word was a sociological term, used as a mark of distinction between the enlightened, the civilized, and the sophisticated, on the one hand, and the rustic, the unpolished, and the unsophisticated, on the other. According to Idowu, the word must have travelled some curious distance in order to become a term with an exclusively religious connotation. In the world to which it belonged, what came under the term now was all the religion that there was. And yet, the Pocket Oxford Dictionary appears to be unaware of this when it defined “pagan” as “acknowledging neither Jehovah, Christ nor Allah; non Christian.” The Encyclopaedia of Religion and Ethics in a passing reference links the term with “primitive peoples” (as cited by Idowu). According to M.I. Boas: The word pagan has little real meaning for most of us (in Europe) today. When we hear it pronounced it affects most of us in a way that has been determined by our schoolbooks, that is, we have a vision of the gods on Olympus, a group of bearded Druids gathered around some woodland altar, or worse – the holocausts to Moloch and the abomination of Ashtoreth. . .paganism proves to be something else, with the difference lying not so much in the other aspects and manifestations as in the essence of the thing. The pagan principle. . . proves to be much more deeply seated, more intrinsic in man, a thing timeless, universal. Pagan, it should be added, is hardly to be limited to what is rude, backward and unlettered, for the ancient Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans, pagans all, illuminated humanity with the clarity of their thought, the wonders of their art, and the nobility of their ethics and sentiments. . .when we call these people pagans we simply means that their brief polytheistic in contrast to our own religions which identified with monotheism, a distinction which is debatable, if not absolutely incorrect. . .As a preliminary definition it is better to seek to

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realize the fundamental needs by an appeal to supernaturally ordained codes of law of rituals. . . Paganism, we may say, is a primitive way of attaining goals through pre-ordained mechanisms, the hope to realize fundamental needs through the accomplishments of certain well defined and immutable acts. (Boas as cited by Idowu, 118)

The above position by Boas points to the fact that the term paganism is not rooted with a religious connotation as we have today. On a second thought, the word found passage into the religious context, probably by way of derogatory comparison through those who believed their own religion is superior to or more meaningful than the religions which they described as paganism. Also, with particular reference to the religion that is traditionally African, the fact that the use of the word “paganism” connotes a mark of social and racial discrimination cannot be overemphasized. Hence, “paganism,” having pragmatically configured, refers to an African traditional worshipper.

Conclusion Thus far, this chapter has been able to conceptualize the idea of Pragmatics and Difference in the social othering of African colonial experience. It is evident from the discourse that the self in the process of affirming its difference from the other resorts to the use of pragmatics in the process of seeking to reorder the other (alterity). Language, aside being a tool of effective communication, is also made to be spoken for the purpose of determining the configuration of being in its physical-metaphysical and transcendental dimensions. What this implies is that the internal and external relations which the One bears with the Other are everything which is empirical, physical, logical, psychological, and metaphysical. Consequently, the Western epistemological categories, principles, and conditioning via pragmatics are intended to obliterate, or at least, blur the meanings of some words in order to ensure that Africans and their values are relegated to the background. These epistemological and linguistic frameworks that were propagated by European scholars such as Hume, Kant, and Hegel are being passed from generation to generation, to the extent that a typical European treats an African with disgust and contempt. Not only this, terms like “native” and “primitive” are used derogatively in order to “make up” the personality of an African. This explains the imperatives of pragmatics in the social othering of African colonial experience by the Europeans as a deliberate enterprise which was intended to batter and assault the African personality and cultures in order to establish cause for permanently downgrading them. Once again, it has been a case of calling a dog a bad name in order to hang it, when indeed the dog is innocent and harmless.

References Achebe, C. 1990. Hopes and impediments. In Anthropology and colonial encounter, ed. Talal Asad. Ithaca: London. Appiah, K. 1992. In my father’s house: Africa in the philosophy of culture. London: Oxford University Press.

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Austin, J.L. 1962. How to do things with words. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Eze, E.C. 1997. African philosophy: An anthology. London: Blackwell Publishers. Fanon, F. 1980. The wretched of the earth. Middlesex: Penguin Books. Goldwaithe, T.J. 1960. Observation on the feeling of the beautiful and sublime. California: University of California Press. Idowu, B. 1975. African traditional religion: A definition. New York: SCM Press. Laruelle, F. 2010. Philosophy of difference: A critical introduction to non-philosophy. New York: Continuum International Publishing.

Language and Othering in African Contexts

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Kenneth U. Abudu

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Language and the Stranger in an African Place . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Language and the Friend in an African Place . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Language and the Forming of Relations Among Africans in a Foreign Land . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Language and the Conceptualization of the Other in African Traditions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Concluding Remarks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Postmodern and post-analytic understanding of African thought was primarily a shift from attempts to understand African thought using Western conceptual lenses to attempt to understand African framework of thought from the conceptual scheme of the people whose thought was being studied. This paradigm shift in the study of a people’s culture championed by such scholars as Ludwig Wittgenstein – notable in his shift from the pictorial theory of language to the game theory – had and continues to have very successful results in the attempts by sociologists, anthropologists, and philosophers to understand African (philosophical) thought. We recall, for instance, the insightful studies of Edward E. EvansPritchard, Peter Winch, and Robin Horton and the continuous records by ethnophilosophy. What stands out from this shift to conceptual scheme of a people as a means for unraveling their thought and ideas is the importance of language as a factor that cannot be ignored in understanding various aspects of the being, knowing, and acting of a people. This chapter follows this line of reasoning. It focuses on an underexplored area of the role of language in African thought: how language promotes or impedes positive and negative experiences K. U. Abudu (*) Department of Philosophy, Faculty of Arts, Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_15

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of othering or alterity in African spaces. It argues that language is imperative to understanding the different levels of othering in African societies. It explores four areas where this is obvious: (1) the lack of competence to speak and communicate in the particular language spoken in the African community in which one dwells naturally in others such as person from the community in a manner that may be inimical to her well-being; (2) the ability to speak in a language of an African people to which one was not naturally born to promote positive relation with the self (the speaker) by the other (the community of selves) to the extent of blurring the gap between the self and the other; (3) the power of language to turn a complete stranger to a close friend when two African strangers meet in a foreign land such as in the Diaspora, a friendship formed solely on the basis of the sameness of language; and (4) the manner in which the other in an African place is conceptually represented to express the people’s understanding of and their responsibility toward the other in such a place. The chapter concludes that language remains the richest source to explore and the fastest route to follow in the search for a people’s ideas about othering and difference. Keywords

Language · Xenophobia · Other · African · Diaspora

Introduction Language is regarded as one of the strongest symbols of shared culture in human, and, particularly for this reason, it has at times been given an almost mystical aura alongside the belief that exclusive language was needed to bond individuals to a singular community, state, or empire. Consequently, language diversity gradually began to be seen as a menace, or at least an inconvenience, that would be eradicated. Language has been defined by different philosophers and from different perspectives. However, it is seen as a means of communication created by humans in history. Many writers such as Ernest Hemingway, William Shakespeare, Leo Tolstoy, Ngugi wa Thiong’o, Kwasi Wiredu, etc. conceptualized language from various standpoints. Worthy of note is the contributions of philosophers of the analytic tradition to the discourse of language in philosophy. Prominent among them was Ludwig Wittgenstein who defined philosophy as “the battle against the bewitchment of our world by the means of language” (Wittgenstein 1986). Language represents the basis which philosophers have been using to explore philosophical expression. Emphasizing on the importance of language in philosophical discourses, A.J. Ayer affirms that “a philosopher who had no mastery of language would be as helpless as a mathematician who cannot handle numerals” (Ayer 1969: 322). This leaves us with the conviction that language is important in achieving the clarity of thought which is central to philosophy. Language was created by humans in order to ensure effective communication in the society. Before and during the period of postmodernism, philosophers focused on only the internal structures of language and considered it a life-dominating factor.

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It is the postmodernists who consider language to be the method of thinking and subject of life, and, of course, they do not exclude the nature of the mean and object. In his magnum opus, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, Ludwig Wittgenstein wrote: The world is my world. That kind of my world is tested through language. Without language, no one can claim what is mine and what is not mine. The philosopher advices us: what we cannot speak about, we must pass over in silence. (Wittgenstein 2001)

From Wittgenstein’s position, it can be deduced that language is not only central to communication but also central to our existence. To a considerable extent, there is a connection between one’s language and one’s world, that is, what cannot be captured by language does not exist. On this basis, language articulates worldview or thoughts of the culture of a people. This entails their beliefs and practices; their ideas about God, the universe, fellow men, and women; and their politics, economy, religion, organizations, and so on. Language in its strict sense is one of the essential features which distinguish human beings from other species of beings that exist in the universe. It is basically a product of a well-engineered biological instinct and, specifically, a tool in the formation of metaphysical and epistemological ideas, developing the social and moral consciousness of a people (Fasiku 2008: 101). This implies any attempt to understand a people more deeply, logically demands the need to unfolding the nuances of their language. Mondin succinctly captures this position when he wrote: Language is that activity with which man, through vocal or written signs puts himself in communication with his own peers (or with some other intelligent being, for instance, God to express his own sentiments, desires and knowledge). (Mondin 1985: 133)

In the light of the above, it can be argued that language has a lot to do with people’s identity, personality, feelings, ideas, and thought systems. While language is regarded as a carrier of culture, it is also a signifier in a cultural belonging. As such it has potent sociocultural implication. This then is to argue that language does not promote the culture of a group of people but also constitute a key means by which a group of people can gain dominance over others. Consequently, language can serve as an instrument of othering of an individual or group of individuals in the scheme of things in the society. From this perspective, language breeds social disorder. Since the inability of one not to communicate in the dominant language of a certain culture makes him isolated, it therefore means that such individual is bound to be treated differently compared to those who understand the language. The fundamental crux of this chapter is to examine the implication of language as the basis of friendship and difference within African contexts. This is because the philosophical foundation of language sees it as a sociocultural phenomenon. To this end, we set out in this chapter by elucidating the concept of language as the basis of treating an individual as a stranger in an African place. This is followed how language forms the basis of friendship in not only an African place but also in the Diaspora. Consequently, we examine language and the conceptualization of the other in an African context.

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Language and the Stranger in an African Place The thrust here is to provide a systematic account of the implication language can have on the dynamic interrelationship in Africa. The language that a person speaks within African thought system reflects the language community’s dominance. A useful way to think about a language community’s dominance is through the ethnolinguistic vitality model. On this basis within African context, an individual may be treated as a stranger due to his inability to speak or use a language as expected in an African community. This inability to use a language effectively as expected in an African community may include some features of the individual’s speech, such as accent, the size of vocabulary (whether the individual uses complex and varied words), modality, and syntax. Consider these scenarios: Chukwka, an Ibo man, had just relocated to a community where Yoruba language is the dominant language. However, settling down becomes a barrier due to his inability to communicate in Yoruba language. And the people, having known that Chukwuka does not understand their language (Yoruba language), treat him differently as compared to someone who is fluent in the language; in particular, he is treated as a stranger.

From another perspective in an interpersonal setting: Obajana and Ajibade hail from Osun state in the South-western part of Nigeria, and they have a friend by name Okonkwo who is an Ibo. Whenever Obajana and Ajibade are having conversation, it is always done in their native Yoruba language. Okonkwo who does not understand Yoruba have been watching for some time. At a time, he was frustrated with them discussing in their native language, and made them to understand that they are not only isolating him, making him a stranger if they cannot communicate in a language he understands.

Based on the inability of an individual to understand a language in a community or in interpersonal discussions in an African place, there is bound to be formed judgements about the individual’s wealth, education, social status, character, or other traits. These perceived judgements may then lead to the unjustifiable treatment of the individual as a complete stranger within a community in Africa. It is worthy to note here that having an understanding of a language within an African community does not imply only speaking the language but also grasping the accent of such language. A typical example can be seen in an instance where an individual who grew up in a place where Swahili language is dominant tends to understand the language more than the individual who migrated to such area. On this basis, an individual who does not understand the rudiments of a language of where he resides within Africa may not find life easy for himself/herself. This explains why Emerson writes that an individual who is migrating to another community must understand the language of such community. He writes: No man should travel until he has learned the language of the place he visits. Otherwise he voluntarily makes himself a great baby, so helpless and so ridiculous. That is so true. Languages give us access to understanding, and the more languages we acquire, the better. (Emerson 1836)

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Emerson’s position above succinctly captures the unfriendly situation an individual who does not understand the dominant language in an area, especially within an African context it may be subjected to. To capture it, such individual will be seen as nothing but a stranger. It is natural for humans to want to identify with others. One way we do this is by categorizing individuals into social groups. While some groups may readily be noticeable, such as those defined by ethnicity or gender, other groups may also be defined by their choice of language. It can be deduced from the above that the inability of an individual to communicate in a dominant language in an African context automatically makes him a stranger in the scheme of things. This leads to discrimination that is purely based on language. In Africa, linguistic discrimination is culturally and socially determined due to the preference for one use of language over another.

Language and the Friend in an African Place Humans are regarded as the bases of the realization of all social realities. Language to a considerable extent guarantees the realization of a social role. The social role of language is peculiar to all cultural realities – African culture included. In African culture, the roles language play in forming friendship cannot be overemphasized. Amidst various cultural diversities and differences within Africa, language has played and still playing great role in forming friendship among individuals. Obausi succinctly captures this position when he opined: “a common language in Africa is a means of identification and a necessary powerful tool for unity and consciousness” (Obausi 2006: 14). By this, language brings about friendship, unity, and oneness. It is worthy to note that there exist multiplicity of languages in Africa, but to some scholars, this diversity of language within African can promote cohesion. Tonkin rightly observes: The diversity of language is an asset; it helps build cohesion in small communities and sustains unique cultures, thereby bestowing distinctive identities on individuals and reducing alienation and marginalisation. The variety of linguistic idioms carries with it an equally rich variety of cultural forms and ways of thought, and maintains for humankind a diversity of devices for coping with uncertain challenges of human existence. And who knows what cultural and intellectual tools we will need in tomorrow’s world? In this sense, diversity in language resembles biodiversity. (Tonkin 2003: 6)

From Tonkin’s position, it is evident that while multiplicity of language may exist, especially within the African context, the role this multiplicity in bringing about unity in diversity is in no small way. Consider this scenario: Chukwuka, an individual of Ibo origin, travelled to the Eastern part of Africa where Swahili is the dominant language. However, before now, Chukwuka already understood the Swahili language. On this basis, communication and socialisation within such community will not be difficult as the people around him already know he understands their language.

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The above scenario suggests that Chukwuka does not belong naturally to the community where Swahili is the dominant language. However, the fact that he understands the language of such makes him a friend of such community. This implies that the ability of Chukwuka to understand the Swahili language already gives him a role in the community, and to play this role effectively, language is imperative. As Halliday argues that for a man to effectively play his/her role as a member of a society, they must first occupy the social role by way of language (Halliday 1978: 14). He further argues that a society does not consist of participants but rather relations. Thus, the continued existence of the societal relations is lubricated by language. Language therefore facilitates friendship between the individual who was not naturally born to such community and the individuals who were.

Language and the Forming of Relations Among Africans in a Foreign Land Africans living in a foreign land otherwise known as Diaspora are united by many factors. Language has been one aspect of their identities that has not only endured geographical space from Africa but has also aided the formation of friendship in a foreign land. Accordingly, Ndhlovu opines that despite all odds against Africans such as monolingual ideologies of language policies and the drive for a homogenous global culture, African languages have continued to promote a friendship atmosphere among Africans in a foreign land (Ndhlovu 2008: 137). Consequently, languages form an integral part of how Africans form relations and continue to register their presence beyond the traditional confines of geographical boundaries. According to Onadeko, the Yorubas live in three distinct regions: at home in Western Nigeria; in other West African countries such as Benin Republic, Togo, and outside Africa; and especially in South America, West Indies, and Cuba (Onadeko 2008). One factor is imperative in the formation of the relations among the Yorubas outside Nigeria; it is the Yoruba language. Aside from the language, no other factor can form relations among the Yorubas in Diaspora, thereby promoting their cultural identity. In the absence of the language, there will not be any basis of forming relations in a foreign land. On this basis, language does not only form the basis of relations among people of similar culture in Diaspora but also promote their cultural identity. Therefore, it can be said that language reflects and symbolizes some kind of identity: regional, social, ethnic, or religious. Analogously, a unitary language among Africans in Diaspora plays the role as that of standardization and would therefore end up enhancing the integration of such African community that is interested in coming together for common good. Whorf captures this position thus: Particular languages embody distinctive ways of experiencing the world, of defining what we are, that is, we not speak in particular language, but more fundamentally become the person we become because of the particular language community in which we grew up – language above all else, shapes our distinctive ways of being in the world. Language, then, is the carrier

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of a people’s identity, the vehicle of a certain way of seeing things, experiencing and feeling, determinant of particular outlooks on life. (Whorf as cited by Afolayan 2006: 44)

Corroborating Whorf’s position, Warschauer writes: Language has always played an important role in the formation and expression of identity. The role of language in identity construction is becoming even more central in the postmodern era, as other traditional makers of identity including race, are being destabilized. (Warschauer 2001: 1)

According to Ndhlovu, presently, nearly 20–30% of Africans in Newcastle in England are Swahili speakers. On this basis, Swahili brings Africans from Congo, Kenya, and East and Central Africa together. This submission points to the need to interact within narrow circle of friends and relatives and also to engage crossculturally beyond one’s continent, giving rise to language characterizing the coexistence of individuals and communities. Most participants made this point about the potentials of language in uniting people (Africans) across borders. For instance, the increased role of Swahili in foreign cross-cultural and cross-linguistic alliances among people who originally came from different African countries cannot be overemphasized. Swahili undoubtedly is one of the most developed and widely used indigenously African languages nationally and internationally. Indeed its contribution in the struggle for independence and in the second liberation movements in across Africa is immense. Africans founding fathers such as Kwame Nkrumah deemed it as the most appropriate language for the African Unity within and outside Africa. Swahili therefore has over the last 50 years participated in the national, regional, and international integration of Africans. Ndhlovu elucidated this submission when he gave an account how an individual’s proficiency in Swahili language facilitates networking among him and other Africans who speak Swahili, especially in Wagga Wagga, Australia: Swahili is big. You can speak Swahili with a Congolese; you can speak with somebody from Rwanda. Swahili is common, you know. Even some people from Sudan, they speak Swahili; even in Kenya; even Uganda. So I have different friends who speak Swahili most of the time. Even Tanzanians, I speak with them. I think I have more friends in Swahili than in Kurundi. (Ndhlovu 2014)

The individual quoted by Ndhlovu here was from Burundi and mentioned five more national groups that she easily identifies with in foreign land on the account of her ability to speak Swahili. This represents a clear example of how Africans in Diaspora are occupying spaces in the entire discourse of transnational identity formation and community, building friendship among people who would otherwise be seen as belonging to different national identity categories. In furtherance, Ndhlovu opines that cross-border languages were noted as being useful among speakers of minor African languages whose ethnic group is not well represented within the wider African community (Ibid). Cross-border languages enable these people to form relations with other Africa migrant groups thereby avoiding isolation

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and overreliance on service providers to do basic things for them. The issue of social isolation for minority groups will not be a problem since they already understand the language which they will use to communicate with other Africans. The narratives above show that Swahili is one of African languages of communication within Africa and in Diaspora. As a lingua franca, it has gained prominence among Africans living in foreign lands. For instance, the language has gained recognition beyond East Asia, and it is taught in various departments of African languages in Europe, America, and Asia. Consequently, Swahili is adopted by many Africans in Diaspora to form social cohesion as a symbol of national identity. It is worthy to note that Swahili is not the only African language that has been unifying Africans in foreign lands, as other African languages have been doing same among Africans who understand such language in Diaspora.

Language and the Conceptualization of the Other in African Traditions Language is important in communicating ideas, feelings, and thought. Thus far, the chapter has focused on how language can influence one to become a stranger within a communal framework in Africa. It has also discussed the role of language in uniting individuals within an African place and how language forms the basis of identity in a foreign land, thereby forming relations among Africans in Diaspora. The aim here is to elucidate from an African point of view how language forms the basis of othering an individual or group of individuals. It was Wittgenstein who famously opined that “the limit of our language is the limit of our world.” This submission by Wittgenstein succinctly captures how the existence of some individuals has been limited due to their inability to speak or understand a language within an African community. Evident, for instance, is the xenophobia attacks that have been ongoing for some time in South Africa. Conceptually speaking, the term xenophobia comes from the association of the Greek words: the word xenos which means foreigner or stranger and the word phobos which means fear. Accordingly, the Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary (2006) defines xenophobia “a strong feeling of dislike or fear of people from other countries.” This definition highlights that xenophobia is a kind of hate that is based on the notion of nationality: people may show hate toward each other because of their belonging to different nations and countries. Here, the feelings of hate and dislike reflect a sort of egoism and selfishness marked by the supremacy of the self and the denigration of the other. The Online Thesaurus Dictionary (2017) gives two brief definitions of the term xenophobia: firstly, “the fear or hatred of foreigners, people from different cultures, or strangers” and, secondly, “the hatred or dislike of the customs, dress, etc., of people who are culturally different from oneself.” These two definitions stress the notion of culture: people may express their feelings of hate and dislike toward others who are culturally different from them. These cultural differences are diverse and encompass various social features such as customs, language, traditions, modes of dressing, modes of thinking, etc. The definitions provided by the

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Oxford and the Thesaurus Dictionaries prove that the notion of belongingness is at the crossroads of the issue of xenophobia. This implies that xenophobia can take place between social groups of the same country, but they must be different on some bases: linguistic, ethnic, religious, cultural, etc. For the purpose of this chapter, xenophobia will encompass the attitudes of hates and dislikes and also the resultant effect of these inhuman treatments. Possibly the most remarkable feature of xenophobia experienced in South Africa is that it appears to have taken on a primarily racial form; it is directed at migrants, and especially black migrants, from elsewhere on the continent, as opposed to, for example, Europeans or Americans, who are, to a certain extent, practically welcomed with open arms. This racially selective xenophobia is exemplified by the fact that many of those in leadership positions are of “foreign” origin, suggesting that exclusion is not simply directed against “foreigners” but against those who seem to correspond to stereotypes of the stranger, especially that from Africa (Neocosmos 2006). There are eleven (11) major languages in South Africa. During the xenophobia attacks, individuals from other parts of Africa who cannot speak any of these major languages encountered loneliness, hostility, alienation, fear, and difficulties in almost all aspects of the South African society. To buttress this, there is a term being used by South Africans to describe an individual who does not have a mastery of any of the eleven South African major languages. Language usage reflects the personality of a culture. Language thus gives a particular individual that uses it, some form of identity. The languages that South Africans speak and the way we talk about people from outside South Africa often serve to reinforce the common myths and stereotypes about non-South Africans. Sometimes this is clear to see; in other cases we may be stereotyping without even realizing it. For example, referring to people using the insulting term Makwerekwere obviously sets them apart as people to be treated differently. As Njamjoh puts it: With inspiration from the apartheid years, South Africans subject Makwerewere (a derogatory term used for a black person who cannot demonstrate mastery of local South African language and who hails from a country assumed to be economically and culturally backward in relation to South Africa) to the excesses of abuse, exploitation and dehumanizing treatment on the basis that they may have “wrong colour” and speak the wrong language to invest in citizenship. The rights of undocumented Makwerewere are particularly severely circumscribed as they are reduced to living clandestinely and being explained with virtual impunity by locals enjoying the prerogatives of citizenship. (Nyamnjoh 2006: 20)

It is evident from the above that the manifestation of xenophobia is not only tied to the hatred or fear of anything foreign but also based on an individual’s inability to understand a language within that South African community. This is because language is capable of influencing the nature of contact that will exist between an indigene and a foreigner. On the basis of xenophobia, the foreigner is bound to be treated differently from those who understand any of the major South African languages. By implication, the xenophobia attacks are also based on communication

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barrier on the basis of language use. This can hamper foreigner’s ability to accumulate a great social success, and the foreigner is seen as the other on the basis of his inability to communicate in any of the dominant languages in South Africa. Thus, anxiety, misunderstanding, and friction can arise due to communication problems and a lack of knowledge of the social and behavioral skills of the new environment (Ward et al. 2001). All these are evident in the xenophobia attacks in South Africa. It is worthy to note that the conceptualization of the other within African traditions as reflected in xenophobia attacks in South Africa based on language is not only from the political, social, or economic angle alone but also from the medical angle. Reports of nurses’ abuse of patients in South Africa on the basis of the patients’ inability to communicate in the Xhosa language are also widespread. For example, among the Zimbabweans, participants’ interpreted language factor as an instrument of othering, that is, they are being treated as different on the basis that they don’t understand the dominance language within that community. Nurses here speak English, but tend to communicate in Xhosa, despite the fact that the Zimbabweans cannot understand the Xhosa language. As Jo and Rother write: When we go to clinics for check-ups, some of the nurses are of Xhosa origin and are coloured. They are different, especially if we meet the Xhosa nurses, sometimes they can speak to them (Zimbabweans) in their language, of which we do not understand their Xhosa language. If you speak to them in English, they ignore you, or they will shout at you. It is that bad for us. Of course we do not understand their language. (Jo and Rother 2017)

Another situation where individuals are treated differently on the basis of language is succinctly captured by a Somali mother who was sterilized without her consent: They came to me when I was sick, and I had no husband there, and I was told to sign. I had no idea what I was signing. And they did the process (tubal ligation). . . and I can’t deliver anymore, even permanently. So when I went to the hospital to complain, they said “you signed”, but I don’t understand because I was not only sick, I also did not understand the language. That is why I am very concerned (ibid.).

The above scenarios imply that without any means of communication, stereotypes and misunderstanding could not be challenged, resolved, or discussed. The language barrier, however, is symbolic of deeper perceptions and attitudes of lack of trust. The language barrier is an intentional imposition on English-speaking Zimbabweans. It represents an example of xenophobia and adds to the phenomenon of treating an individual as the other. These attacks expose the inhuman treatment citizens of other countries in South African are being subjected to. Their inability to understand any of the South African major languages, especially the Xhosa language, is solely responsible for this inhuman treatment. Also, Cynthia Chitongo, an economic migrant from Zimbabwe, has this to say: Never in Zimbabwe did we dream that our country would be in a situation like we have today. We had the best of everything until one day, without expecting it, we found ourselves in an economic situation that is difficult to endure. After much deliberation, we decided to come

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here to South Africa because we needed help with our situation. Every person who left Zimbabwe left for reasons best known to them, and why they choose wherever they went is a long story. Most of us left because we did not agree with the policies in our home country, and there was nothing we could do to change them. Some of us even got into trouble for voicing concerns or disagreeing with those polices. All I know is that it is never easy for anyone to leave home without any plan or a thing to your name to go and start your life all over again. It is even harder when you are rejected because you are a foreigner. What foreigner? I am an African. From a distance I look like one of the black South Africans. Its only when the locals speak to me in his native language and I answer back in English that they pick it up that I am a ‘foreigner’ and the reaction thereafter leaves one stunned to say the least. The reaction ranges from a rude insult or mockery, to silence. Imagine you are on the train or taxi and the journey becomes quite unbearable just because you don’t understand the language being spoken. You are afraid to ask for directions because they will go out of their way to make you lose your way. This is not all of them. There are a few saints who love and respect other people and who are helpful and friendly. But it is always a nine out of ten chances. They will make it worse for you if at work the employer prefers you because you are educated and you understand common sense. Because of where our nation has been, Zimbabweans will work anywhere, regardless of education, just to better our lives and for that fellow Africans here in South Africa get very jealous. We have stuck it out here in South Africa with all the hostilities that we have to tolerate. But never in my wildest imagination did I ever think that it would get to xenophobia/afro-phobia attacks: Blacks against blacks. As I am writing this, I am very emotional. I cannot stop crying. I cannot believe it is happening. I have been displaced, and I find it very hard to trust anyone. All I want is to go back home but after three years where do I start? My whole life and those of my children is now part of South Africa, and through every trial and struggle, we had hoped that it would get better. I have never experienced this cruelty at home, and I am in a dilemma as to what to do. I am lucky because I am staying in an old flat that is being renovated, and I have had a lot of support from friends here in Cape Town. What if it gets worse? The emotional trauma makes one sick. (Chitongo as cited by Centre for Justice and Crime Prevention, 2015)

Another context which language fueled the conceptualization of individuals as the other within African context was the Nigerian Civil War otherwise known as the Biafran War (6 July, 1967–15 January, 1970). This war was fought between the government of Nigeria and the secessionist state of Biafra. Biafra represented nationalist aspirations of Igbo people, whose leadership felt they could no longer coexist with the Northern-dominated federal government. The war resulted from political, economic, ethnic, cultural, and religious tensions which preceded Britain’s former decolonization of Nigeria from 1960 to 1963. Immediate causes of the war in 1966 included a military coup, a counter-coup, and a persecution of Igbo living in Northern Nigeria. Control over the lucrative oil production in the Niger Delta played a strategic role. Minorities in the Biafra suffered atrocities at the hands of the Nigerian federal government. Although it is common to posit that the root causes of the war are tied to political, ethno-religious, economic, and cultural factors, however, one cannot rule out the role language played in conceptualizing the Ibos as “others” and also on the basis of how they (the Ibos) were treated differently. This factor as known made it possible for the federal troops to easily identify those who are Ibos and those who are not. This was evident in the way the minorities in Biafra were killed and maimed, for instance, the Efiks and other ethnic groups especially from the Niger Delta region. Here, an individual who does not have a mastery of the

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Hausa language is treated differently as compared to one who understands the language.

Concluding Remarks From the discourse thus far, it is evident that the roles language in forming relations within Africa and in Diaspora cannot be overemphasized. Language remains a vital tool of communication. Discrimination is based on “othering” people. This involves dividing the world into “good” and “bad” elements, usually “us” (the good, normal ones) and “them” (the ones who are different, the stranger, the foreigners, the threat). These divisions are based on existing racist, ethnic, religious, cultural, or national prejudice. However beneath the facade of this discrimination lies the individual’s ability or inability to speak or understand a language within a particular framework. This is because as argued by this chapter an individual’s inability to speak or understand a language within African context might lead to him being treated as a stranger and differently compared to the individual who understands such language, as evident in the xenophobia attacks and the Biafran experience. The most important reasons behind the prevalence of xenophobia in South Africa are economic and the tendency to criminalize foreigners. Existing explanations in terms of economic crises, political transition, relative deprivation, or remnants of apartheid all contain an element of truth but are not in themselves sufficient, as inability of foreigners and migrants to speak the South African indigenous languages has made the xenophobia attacks prevalent. As it is known, no individual can attain the level of proficiency a native speaker would, in his use of language; and this has caused what some people never bargained for. Evident is the xenophobia attacks in South Africa. While language remains a tool to express ideas and communicate feelings and thoughts, it also serves as an instrument of discrimination and othering individuals differently from oneself. It is therefore imperative for philosophers never to rest on their hoax as language remains a rich source to be explored in the search for a people’s ideas about othering and difference.

References Afolayan, A. 2006. The language question in African philosophy. In Core issues in African philosophy, ed. O. Oladipo. Ibadan: Hope Publications. Ayer, A.J. 1969. Philosophy and language. In Clarity is not enough, ed. H.D. Lewis. London: George Allen and Unwin Ltd. Chitongo, C. 2015. As cited by Centre for Justice and Crime Prevention (CJCP). http://www. xenophobia.org.za/citizenship.htm? Definition of Xenophobia. In Dictionary Thesaurus Online. Retrieved September 23, 2017., from http://www.dictionary.com/browse/xenophobia. Emerson, R.W. 1836. Nature. Boston: James Munroe and Company. Fasiku, G. 2008. African philosophy and the method of ordinary language philosophy. The Journal of Pan-African Studies 2 (3): 85–90.

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Halliday, M.A.K. 1978. Language as a social semiotic: The social meaning of languages and meanings. Newcastle: Odder and Stoughton Ltd. Jo, H.A., and H.A. Rother. 2017. A qualitative study of language barrier between South African health care providers and cross-border migrants. Published online on 31 Jan 2017. https://doi. org/10.1186/s12913-017-2042-5 Mondin, B. 1985. Philosophical anthropology. Rome: Theological Publications. Ndhlovu, F. 2008. Language and African development: Theoretical reflections on the place of language in African studies. Nordic Journal of African Studies 17 (2): 137. Ndhlovu, F. 2014. Becoming an African diaspora in Australia: Language, culture and identity. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Neocosmos, M. 2006. From ‘foreign natives’ to ‘native foreigners’. Dakar: CODESRIA. Nyamnjoh, F.B. 2006. Insiders and outsiders, citizenship and xenophobia in contemporary Southern Africa. London: Zed Books. Obausi, I. 2006. The place of language in Nigeria’s reform agenda. Nsukka: UNN Press. Onadeko, T. 2008. Yoruba adjudicatory system. African Study Monographs 29 (1): 15–28. Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary. 2006. New York: Oxford University Press. Tonkin, H. 2003. Issues in global education: Language and society. Occasional papers from the American Forum for global education. Number 178. American Forum for Global Education. Ward, C., S. Bochner, and A. Funham. 2001. The psychology of culture shock. 2nd ed. East Sussex: Routledge. Warschauer, M. 2001. Retrieved 12 July, 2011, from http://www.arts.uwa.edu.au/motspluriel/ MP190/mw.html. Wittgenstein, L. 1986. Philosophical investigation. Trans. G.E.M. Ascombe. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Wittgenstein, L. 2001. Tractatus logico-philosophicus. Trans. D.F. Pears and B.F. Mc Guinness. New York: Routledge.

Part IV Disability, Gender, and Nonhuman Othering

The Animal Other in Thaddeus Metz’s Modal Ubuntu Ethics

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Recent Debate on Animals in African Ethics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Basis of Right Action: Promoting Shared Identity and Solidarity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A Conception of Moral Status: Unequal Degrees in Beings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Moral Modal-Relationism on the Moral Status of Animals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Trade-Off Situations and the Moral Consideration of Animals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Avoiding Extreme Moral Anthropocentrism? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Speciesist? An Animal’s Capacity to Commune As Morally Irrelevant . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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In this chapter, I have a look at the theoretical perceptions and prescriptions that Thaddeus Metz argues for the animal other in his African modal-relational moral theory. The theory is regarded by the author as an attempt at granting a generous amount of moral consideration to animals based on African ideas, without giving up intuitions about human beings counting more morally. I take up the debate on moral status and moral obligations, considering the question of the “difference” that separates human beings from other animal beings. Metz believes he can ground rights for animals (and duties toward them) on the African value of human communal relationships. A few authors have challenged his theory as anthropocentric and speciesist (Horsthemke, Molefe, Galgut), though he himself considers these accusations unfounded. The pivotal dispute focuses on deciding on the type of definition one should accept that best describes anthropocentrism and speciesism. I argue that Metz’s moral theory can be accused of being anthropocentric in the core principle he endorses, as certain animals are given some moral standing F. Maj (*) Department of Philosophy, University of Fort Hare, Eastern Cape, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_16

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and are part of the moral community in a passive sense but reliant on a feature (capacity for identity and solidarity with humans) that Metz describes as only fully accessible to humans. But once Metz brings in moral intuitions of difficult tradeoffs and cultural (medium) interests of humans, his solutions become more extreme in anthropocentrism and speciesism by applying double standards, considering caring more for a cognitively impaired human being than for an animal of similar cognitive impairment, and taking the possibility to justify unjust human actions to a certain group as a basis for them to be permitted (on some conditions and amendments) in harming animals. In the conclusion I also consider the practical outcomes of his theory if it was applied, which seems to be plausible to most animals that at the moment are sacrificed for trivial human interests. Keywords

Animal ethics · African ethics · Ubuntu · Metz · Moral modal-relationism · Moral status · Moral anthropocentrism

Introduction In this chapter, I have a look at the theoretical perceptions and prescriptions that Thaddeus Metz argues for the animal other in his African modal-relational moral theory. The theory is regarded by the author as an attempt at granting a generous amount of moral consideration to animals based on African ideas, without giving up intuitions about human beings counting more morally. I take up the debate on moral status and moral obligations, considering the question of the “difference” that separates human beings from other animal beings. Metz believes he can ground rights for animals (and duties toward them) on the African value of human communal relationships. A few authors have challenged his theory as anthropocentric and speciesist (Horsthemke, Molefe, Galgut), though he himself considers these accusations unfounded. The pivotal dispute focuses on deciding on the type of definition one should accept that best describes anthropocentrism and speciesism. I argue that Metz’s moral theory can be accused of being anthropocentric in the core principle he endorses, as certain animals are given some moral standing and are part of the moral community in a passive sense, but reliant on a feature (capacity for identity and solidarity with humans) that Metz describes as only fully accessible to humans. But once Metz brings in moral intuitions of difficult trade-offs and cultural (medium) interests of humans, his solutions become more extreme in anthropocentrism and speiciesism by applying double standards, considering caring more for a cognitively impaired human being than for an animal of similar cognitive impairment, and taking the possibility to justify unjust human actions to a certain group as a basis for them to be permitted (on some conditions and amendments) in harming animals. In the conclusion I also consider the practical outcomes of his theory if it was applied, which seems to be plausible to most animals that at the moment are sacrificed for trivial human interests.

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The Recent Debate on Animals in African Ethics Other secular African ethical theories (Gyekye, Wiredu) do not concern themselves directly with the moral status of animals per se, but some sort of value toward them can be differentiated and their approach to rights as well (Molefe 2015). Ramose has approached the question of animals but only as part of general nature, which again is given respect, care, and some value but not attributed moral status (Ramose 2009). Authors that suggest that supernatural components are crucial for establishing moral value or status of animals include Tempels, Bujo, Murove, Molefe, and Etieyibo. There is a contentious issue as to the possibility to successfully talk about moral value of animals in African ethics without an African metaphysical backbone and whether animal rights can be established. If Etieyibo (2017) and Molefe (2015) are right in conceding that the core element making African ethics non-anthropocentric is the supernatural element, then it would seem to counter aspirations to leave that part aside (Metz, Behrens, Horsthemke), much in favor of supernaturalism. But Metz attempts to make a case for himself to show that it is possible to remain nonanthropocentric and non-speciesist on secular grounds and thus provides reasons for a possibility for animal rights (Metz 2018). Horsthemke (2015) who has written the most comprehensive book on African animal ethics has reached some conclusions that moral rights for animals cannot be grounded on the hitherto formulated moral concepts of African ethics (ubuntu, ukama, etc.). The debate on animals is often one where the more radical animal ethicists are not satisfied with ethical formulations that do not grant enough (especially individual, intrinsic) moral concern for animals, while the moderate animal ethicists (rationalist, environmentalist ethicists, etc.) spend time either defending certain “human” or “environmental” or “evolutionary” or “cultural” interests that circumvent the overeagerness of the ethical radicals. In that light Horsthemke is not satisfied with the concern for animals that is proposed by ubuntu, ukama, and by Metz’s modal relationism, as they fall short for animal protection compared to a more individualistic ethics toward animals. As there may be ways to justify exploitation of animals, in the name of the community, culture, religion, and self-interest. Horsthemke puts much emphasis that it is a matter of anthropocentrism that makes it impossible for African communitarianism to sufficiently concern itself with the moral worth of animals. Metz is not convinced that utilitarian, neokantian, and holistic proposals for animal ethics do a better job than African communitarianism. But the way he lays out his concern for animals is as though he is debunking animal ethicist radicalism (like Warren, Cohen) rather than fighting for animals (like Singer, Regan, Cochrane) in African ethics. This is just an impression of his strategy of writing about animals, which makes both sides, some African ethicists and some animal ethicists, question his intentions and conclusions. Animals are important beings to people on the African continent, as they play a vital role in daily lives, most of whom in official statistics (60%) still live in rural areas even more than in Asia (52%), thus perhaps having a lot more interaction with the natural environment than people living on urbanized continents such as the

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Americas or Europe. Though compared with Northern America (18%), Latin America and the Caribbean (20%), and Europe (27%), the rate of Asia’s and Africa’s urbanization is faster than other regions (World Urbanization Prospects 2014, p. 1). Animals in Africa are used for work purposes (agriculture, security, tourism, etc.), for cultural practices (ritual sacrifice), as a food commodity, and as companions. This immediately indicates that they have value of some instrumental kind and people may have indirect moral obligations to them, as animals provide support for their welfare and well-being. Thus it would be wrong to harm someone’s animals as that would be indirectly wronging that person or their livelihood. Many authors in the neokantian tradition have seen this as extremely poor grounds of morally treating animals (Regan, Francione). This kind of thinking, such as animals as property, is a common way of perceiving animals, and Africa is not exempt from it. But in African sub-Saharan ethics broadly envisioned, animals hold a particular position and some value in the hierarchy of beings, one between humans (higher) and that of plants (lower). This will be the basis on which Metz will ethically ground his moral theory.

The Basis of Right Action: Promoting Shared Identity and Solidarity A major characteristic of sub-Saharan African ethics that Metz bases his moral theory on is that it is community based, in distinction to the primarily individualistic European-American tradition. The community plays a significant if not dominant role in guiding ethical consideration, of which two main lines may be distinguished – radical and moderate communitarianism. Another important factor in African moral thought is personhood. Being embedded in the community is far from a conception of personhood based on a static individual human trait (rationality, will) (Menkiti 1984). This is an important notion that is considered by African ethicists but not by Metz who prefers that of finding a principle of right action and determining moral status as it is possible to contrast animals and humans using a particular understanding of it. The fact that (moral) personhood is not easy to achieve and that one could fail at it (Gyekye 1997, p. 37) shows that the bar has been set at a high standard in traditional African ethics. As in comparison with Kantian personhood which all humans possess on the basis of rationality and autonomy, regardless of the degree the actual persons possess of them, this is also the direction Metz takes with his modal conception of moral status that he establishes on a capacity in principle to form communal relations with humans. Metz has attempted to formulate a guideline of action based on ubuntu (humanness) referring to some “salient” though not universal ideas found across many subSaharan ethical theories. An important note is that he presumes that the ethic he conceptualizes does not actually exist in Africa and is not practiced. He is abstracting certain ideas that he finds plausible to construct a worthy ethic that can work not only in Africa. Metz’s aspirations were to set up a relational moral theory that could accommodate animals, but not at the cost of prima facie intuitions concerning humans. In his pursuit to formulate his African moral theory, he singles out the

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capacity for friendship or harmonious relationship formation as the most important criterion for right action and moral status. One of his formulations of good action is the following: “an action is right insofar as it is a way of living harmoniously or prizing communal relationships, ones in which people identify with each other and exhibit solidarity with one another; otherwise an action is wrong” (Metz 2010b, p. 51). He takes into account the African idea of communality, in the form of ubuntu (humanness) ethics. A known version of the idea is the maxim “A person is a person through other persons” or “I am because we are” (Mbiti 1969, pp. 108–109). The specific meaning of this is that African personhood has a moral underpinning to it which signifies not only that moral persons are born through and among moral persons but also that moral personhood is acquired and not given. Mbiti has been concisely outlined to concede that “What is right is what connects people together; what separates people is wrong” (Verhoef and Michel 1997, p. 397). Apart from Mbiti, other quotes of African communalism that play an inspirational role for a framework of “good” forming for Metz are Biko’s words of a “quest for a composite answer to the varied problems of life” in the “form of community orientated action” (Biko 2004, p. 46) and Tutu’s words “Harmony, friendliness, community are great goods. Social harmony is for us the summum bonum – the greatest good. Anything that subverts or undermines this sought-after good is to be avoided like the plague” (Tutu 1999, p. 35). Although weaker than Mbiti’s “separation as a wrong,” Tutu proposes avoidance of what lessens harmonious community formation. Of course this basically alludes to the communality principle being the only basis of good and next in Metz’s words: “the communal relationship itself is the bearer of moral status” (Metz 2012, p. 392). This would imply that for a person to have moral status, he must be in a communal relation with others. And with this stance, there is a problem with those who are persons but are not part of a community or have any current human relations, as that would go against our intuition whereby they are devoid of moral status. Metz thus proposes to not think that someone can have more moral personhood if he contributes more communally like radical communitarianism or think that it is the “communal relationship” itself that solely matters. His theory is rather a form of moderate communitarianism, as even though he is focused on the relationality perspective, his theory also hinges on individualism, as it is every person’s “individual” capacity in principle to commune that makes the relational principle possible.

A Conception of Moral Status: Unequal Degrees in Beings Metz proposes his modal-relational perspective of moral status (2007, 2010b, 2012) as worthy of consideration if not better than individualistic or holistic approaches. He commits to the judgment that animals and humans have the same kind of moral status but what is distinctive between them is the degree of it they possess. A wellknown quote clarifies this “even a severely mentally incapacitated human being might have a greater moral status than an animal with identical internal abilities (. . .)” (Metz 2012, p. 388).

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Metz defines the concept of moral status as “the idea of something being the object of a ‘direct’ duty, i.e. owed a duty in its own right, or is the idea of something that can be wronged” (Metz 2012, p. 389). Something that does not have moral value can be an object of moral treatment due to an “indirect” duty of a moral agent, but it cannot be valued “ultimately” due to facts about that object itself. He uses the example of a football where I have an indirect duty to not destroy the football as the owner will be wronged by my act. Metz (2012, p. 389) goes against a nondegree-based understanding of the concept of moral status unlike Gruen and DeGrazia (2008) and follows those who admit degrees (“in principle”) like Miller, VenDeBeer, and Warren. In his conception, moral status is not an all or nothing matter, though not all possible entities have it. He does not acknowledge moral status to insects and arachnids but also groups (species, ecosystems, etc.). Metz formulating his relational perspective as a basis to grant moral status juxtaposes it with various individualist as well as some holistic theories. The individualist stance considers moral status as a function of something internal to an individual – depending on the theory – different properties can be considered: pure agency, soul, being a living organism, agency based on autonomy and rationality, capacity for recollections of the past and satisfaction of desires, and capacity for pleasure and pain. The holist view admits moral status to ecosystems and species, meaning groups whose individuals are closely or interdependently related (cf. Metz 2012, p. 389). Finally Metz’s own view – the relational perspective of moral status – considers it “constituted by some kind of interactive property between one entity and another” (Metz 2012, p. 388), occupying some sort of a middle ground “in between” individualism and holism. Metz also shows the mishaps of a particular Western relational theory – the ethics of care (by Nel Nodding’s classical version 1984), where moral status is given to a being in as much as she responds or would respond to a person who cares for her. Interestingly those beings that are not in relations with persons or do not respond to care from persons cannot be an object of direct duties. “Excluded are, for example, animals in the wild that have no interaction with us but foreseeably can be harmed by our actions” (Metz 2012, p. 391). The same would go for human strangers with whom one has no contact or cannot respond to the care, e.g., due to distance (starving people) are not owed direct duties such as aid (Nodding Noddings 1984, p. 86). Metz’s moral position seems to follow a deontological route where actions are well guided by his maxim of the “in principle” capacity to commune (by identity and solidarity) with humans. It still stands under the umbrella of anthropocentrism by virtue of its perpetual association and appeal to ubuntu (humanness). But Metz may argue for moral status not being based on an equal capacity for communing with all communing animals (human and nonhuman) by the fact that what matters for moral consideration is the obligations that humans have as moral agents as we cannot expect animals (and some humans) to act morally. This defense, however, is questionable as it conflates being a moral agent and having moral status which Metz himself divides.

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Moral Modal-Relationism on the Moral Status of Animals Metz refers to the African approach to relational theory found in sub-Saharan African ethics – where what is important in the relationship that constitutes moral status is that it is communal. Even though Metz is committed to only base his theory on secular aspects of African communalism, he does show a correspondence of his degree based conception of moral status and the degrees of “life-force” that exists in the hierarchy of beings in some traditional African metaphysical theories. Depending on the degree of the “life-force” which is an energy that originates from God and pervades everything, it is passed down in lesser portions to ancestors, next humans, and then animals, plants, and minerals (Metz 2017, p. 283). Metz, as mentioned previously, does offer animals a moral status, but it is “one that is less than that of a person” (Metz 2010b, p. 57). He assigns full moral status and dignity to humans whereas partial moral status and no dignity to animals (Metz 2010b, 2017). The reasons for this is that “moral status goes to beings that can be subjects and objects of harmonious relationships, partial moral status goes to those that can be only objects of them” (Metz 2010b, p. 57). The criterion for being a subject of a harmonious relationship is twofold – a “capacity to identify with others” and to show solidarity with others. The criterion for being an object of a harmonious relationship is “being able to be identified with” and being gratified with somebody’s solidarity. The first criterion can be met by normal adult human beings as they can (1) think collectively as a “we,” (2) collaborate and cooperate with others, (3) sympathize with others, and (4) help others (as Metz adds “for their own sake”). This cannot be met by most animals. Here are the reasons: (1) “For all we know, few kinds of animals can exhibit solidarity toward us, but we characteristically can with them,” (2) “so long as they are capable of being better or worse off, we are of a kind that can have emotional reactions toward their flourishing such as sympathy and can help them for their sake on that basis,” and (3) “few, if any, animals can identify with us in the sense of think themselves as a ‘we’” (Metz 2010b, p. 57; cf. also 2017, p. 285). He writes: roughly, “the more a being is capable of a communal relationship with us, the greater its moral status.” And only some animals can be the object of communal relations with us, such as great apes, dolphins and other cetaceans, and elephants (as having the highest partial moral status); next on the scale are cows, goats, pigs, sheep, cats, dogs, mice, and birds; and at the bottom of the moral status ladder are fish and “perhaps” worms. Lower animals such as insects, arachnids, and protozoa cannot be the object of our communal actions and thus do not have any moral status (Metz 2012, p. 400; Horsthemke 2015, p. 87). In a more recent paper, Metz has described them as having “no aims with which to coordinate” (no teleological orientation) nor “welfare to protect” (no good) (Metz 2018, p. 280). But they are given some indirect moral worth (but not moral status) by Metz – as these creatures matter due to “indirect ethical factors” such as their value to an ecosystem. It is not so clear where Metz places other wild animals such as predators and reptiles. Some of these animals are considered totems for different African tribes. Thus if the Jola people (clan of the Xhosa people) will never kill a particular snake, and even protect it, as it is its totem,

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then there is a question to ask Metz – why would that animal not have moral status, even though it plays a certain communal role, but would only have indirect value as it is important to a particular people? Metz also mentions that animals that are objects of our care “matter in their own right and respect for them makes veganism, for instance, obligatory when meat is not necessary for survival” (2018, pp. 285–286). But he underlines the fact that his account of moral status concerns the human capacity in principal for harmonious relations, rather than one’s actual ability to take part or actually taking part that gives worthiness of moral consideration; thus his theory firmly promotes modality. This rescues humans who do not have many relations or are incapable of some, like hermits, psychopaths, or autistic people. But on the reverse side, it does not explain moral intuitions whereby if I was driving in a brakeless car and I had to run over a psychopathic murderer or my good companion Max, my dog, I would kill the murderer. This brings in the problem of partiality once again.

Trade-Off Situations and the Moral Consideration of Animals Metz uses the following examples of intuitions about forced trade-offs to clarify his understanding of moral status – when considering human beings and animals. Firstly, if a situation of such arose, it would be right to drive over a mouse rather than a normal adult human being, as it has less moral status. Secondly, it would seem permissible to eat an animal that has already been killed for it not to be wasted. He writes: “even many vegetarians would find something respectful in the stereotypical Native American practice of using every part of a buffalo.” The same could not be applied in the case of a human, and it “would be horrific.” He uses an example of a Nazi saying: “Well, we have already killed this Jew, and so may as well make the best of it by using his hair to stuff pillows, fat to make soap and bones to make fashion buttons” (Metz 2012, p. 389). Also in the case of experiments, it is convenient for humans to have some sort of object to be able to test what is not permissible on humans, which is nevertheless considered as important for the survival of humans. Metz states that: “Differential degrees of moral status would straightforwardly account for intuitions that the urgent interests of an animal may be sacrificed for the urgent interests of a normal, adult human being.” (Metz 2010b, p. 57) An example of that would be dodging a human and killing a deer, but not killing a cat for fun as that would be a trivial interest. When considering a biomedical setting, the outcome of Metz’s proposition is even more lenient than Singer’s, who in a rare scenario would support an experiment which would present undoubtful evidence of being highly beneficial for a medical discovery at the expense of a few sentient animals (with an attempt to reduce pain): “unequal moral standing would accommodate the common judgements that conducting painful or fatal experiments on animals is in order to cure severe diseases such as Alzheimer’s and cancer would be permissible, but that doing so in order to cure baldness would not” (Metz 2010b, p. 57).

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When considering rights to culture and duties to animals, Metz indicates that it may be the case that the “moderate” human interests, where he allocates cultural rights (between a trivial interest and matters of life and death), will supersede “weighty” animal interests. He criticizes the idea that “Only communal practices that are not discordant toward others merit protection, and, otherwise, they are liable for interference” (Metz 2017, p. 290), by calling it a hasty generalization from “not be permitted to harm others” to “never be able to harm others.” He concludes that this principle fails to draw the line in the right place. What should be taken into account is the question if the people of a certain culture were disadvantaged or subject to historical injustice. Interfering with such cultures and impairing them seems like a moral wrong. Metz is careful here though: “Despite the extra moral reason to permit such a practice in such a situation, I still find it hard to draw a firm conclusion about whether it should be permitted. Note that my aim is not so much to resolve the conflict between our duties to animals and our rights to culture, but rather to understand it, precisely as one that is extremely hard to resolve for involving comparably strong considerations that, despite their common moral foundation, pull in different directions” (Metz 2017, pp. 291–292). However, he does consider the plausibility of change to a cultural practice that causes serious harm to animals but that it would need to be done by negotiation – as the principle of identity and solidarity indicates – to emphasize the cooperative significance in making decisions (Metz 2017, p. 292) as well as being sensitive to the protection of the collective self-conception of the family that needs to be chosen jointly and freely in virtue of the capacity to form relationships, friendships, and a community. Metz also indicates that if a cultural practice that involves harming animals (e.g., halal) has existed over time and is an integral part of that culture as compared to a recently formed practice in the twentieth century “Society of Mouse Crushers” where people meet up to watch women on high heels trample on live mice, it is more justified to not interfere with the first mentioned cultural practice, while there is good reason to ban the latter. This highlights once again the importance of his principle of communing, which broadly accepts animals. Thus Metz has a suggestion to educate members of a culture more about the harm that animals experience, as well as showing concern and suggesting change, and this would not be disrespectful to that culture according to him. He suggests a modification that Behrens also proposed about negotiating the integration of stunning into the practice of ritual animal slaughter to lessen the suffering (or rather one would say pain) involved – even though the killing would be permissible. Behrens concluded that cultural practices that impose severe pain on animals are immoral but that their change should be negotiated within the community and not prohibited by external views (that in this case may be treated as an extension of colonial rule) and made illegal by the state (Behrens 2009). Metz does involve the state and animal activists into the negotiations concerning stunning and the change of practice. This suggestion avoids fully addressing a core feature of religious animal slaughter which relies on the pain of the animal to communicate to ancestors.

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But all things considered, Metz does admit to not have a definite answer in this case, as he says that two normative prescriptions cannot be satisfied. Thus, he writes something that might send shivers down the back of animal abolitionists: “Or the state might allow a particularly gruesome practice to continue for a time, subject to a commitment on the part of those adhering to it to find ways to reduce the degree of subordination and harm done to animals in their own way” (Metz 2017, p. 293).

Avoiding Extreme Moral Anthropocentrism? Let us consider how Metz’s moral theory can withstand the accusation of moral anthropocentrism (treating anthropocentrism in itself as a certain type (humancentered) and speciesism. One of the questions to address here is what type of definition of anthropocentrism does one suppose as best suited. Metz himself declares that his theory is neither anthropocentric, at least not in its “most clearly questionable forms” (e.g., animals as of only instrumental value to people while he acknowledges moral status to some animals), nor speciesist as what is human or human life itself is not considered as a basic value but the capacity to commune with humans (Metz 2012, p. 400). But say we consider the following definition of anthropocentrism: “Either nonhuman animals are not to be morally considered or their consideration is lower than the moral consideration of human animals” (Faria and Paez 2014, p. 85). As we can see Metz’s theory does fall under anthropocentrism in the second part of the definition. This is not surprising as it focuses in its core on the principle of the capacity to form particular “human” communal relations that “normal” humans “in principle” excel at. A partial way that Metz’s theory seems less human-centered focused is that he gives only some moral status to “not normal” human beings (the cognitively impaired and psychopaths) like he does to some animals, but not dignity, as that is guaranteed by the modal capacity of identifying with and showing solidarity toward others. Not all humans themselves are capable of forming relations with others per se, perhaps even less so with humans. (consider the rise of human interaction in virtual reality as well as robots as nurses, companions, etc.) Thus some animals may be better at it, e.g., great apes and cetaceans, but let us also consider domestic animals such as cats, dogs, geese, etc. They have a capacity to form bonds with humans, even though of an unequal quality as Metz will emphasize. But there are many sentient animals which could potentially form a relationship with humans if given the proper opportunity as well as proper conditions to analyze their interactions (De Waal 2017). This could be similar as the application of the capacity for friendship to a psychopath or autistic person, though it is evident that both (in a different manner) are emotionally limited to form more complex friendly relations. Horsthemke and Molefe have both been critically engaged with this example (Horsthemke 2015, 2017; Molefe 2017) when Metz writes that a severely cognitively impaired human being or psychopath is more able to be an object of a

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harmonious relationship than an animal. By intuition this does seem anthropocentric and speciesist as what is the criterion for emotionally impaired humans or cognitively impaired humans to be more included as objects of harmonious relationships, if not the mere criterion that it is part of the human species. Although I can agree at first glance that a person who grew up in a human-centred environment could have such a moral intuition, this intuition should subside if Metz is to be consistent with his core principle of his theory of moral status. Horsthemke has commented on this that it is precisely where Metz’s relational perspective is weak, as it does not take the agent’s personal motivations and emotional preferences into account and is focused on the “object” of moral status (Horsthemke 2015, p. 89). He gives the example of partiality, where one would understandably give more preference to saving his own child to somebody else’s, but as Galgut indicates that that would not mean that his child has more moral status than that of the stranger’s (2015, p. 88; Galgut 2017, p. 177). Molefe has stated that in these examples Metz is begging the question that as “we are more able” to treat the “deformed” humans as a part of a “we,” to direct to them our sympathetic emotions and care for them as well as we do more for them, this “is evidence of a greater ability to make them an object of a friendly relationship” (Metz 2012, pp. 397–398). In my opinion, by doing this Metz seems to also bring an ad hoc extreme anthropocentric and speciesist criterion to his own conception of moral status, in some contradiction to his earlier formulation. In another paper, Metz states “We are more disposed to feel a sense of togetherness with, and exhibit emotional reactions toward, severely retarded humans, than, say dogs and monkeys” (Metz 2010b, p. 58). It is unclear though when considering rescuing either a psychopath or mentally impaired human being or a chimpanzee mother with her baby, what would Metz suggest as the right thing to do? In this context it does seem as though Metz is cutting out all intrinsic interests animals have for themselves from moral consideration for the elevated interests of people due to such moral intuitions. More recently (2018) Metz has replied to Horsthemke’s analysis of African modal relationism in his book Animals and African Ethics (2015), where he makes an attempt to clarify many of his intentions and aims in forming a moral theory that takes moral standing for animals seriously, even though it may have its problems in forced trade-offs. But as Metz states, it still does better in areas where other moral theories fail. In this chapter it becomes more clear that by assigning a particular moral status to animals, even based on a capacity exterior and independent of them (but still not on their intrinsic value based on their interests), Metz makes his moral theory more animal considerate compared to extreme anthropocentric theories (like contractualism or Kant’s deontology). But it would be difficult for one to call it a weak anthropocentric moral theory, due to its strong emphasis on the human aspect in assigning moral status to animals. I would also like to point out again the inconsistency of Metz in his trade-offs, as from his core theory, where it would seem justifiable to defend whales (based on their high social and intellectual capacities) from being killed for consumption, cosmetics, and scientific research.

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Speciesist? An Animal’s Capacity to Commune As Morally Irrelevant Metz concedes that “few, if any,” animals can consider themselves as part of a human group, “participating with us cooperatively,” and moreover that “few, if any,” animals can manifest solidarity toward people, where they can sympathize with us and make our lives better off for our benefit only (Metz 2017). This certainly sounds anthropocentric and speciesist, and the problem with this view is that looking at neuro-ethics and moral psychology (Levy 2014; Dąbrowski 1996) much of human capacity for morality and communality is overstated. Most people remain in a state of ambivalences and ambitendences as to doing what is right. This would be a critique of Metz’s empirical claim that what makes human beings special is their communal feature (Metz, 1017, p. 289). But this is not only a human feature. Humans as a species have a more destructive capacity than nonhuman animals who are evolutionarily limited in their capacities for destruction and killing, so humans have the capacity to do good in many ways, not unequal to the capacity to do evil (Lorenz 2002). There are a few possible inconsistencies in Metz’s argumentation on the “difference” between human and nonhuman animals. He mentions that animals that are objects of our care “matter in their own right” (Metz 2017, p. 285). This seems like an inconsistency as how are animals considered to “matter in their own right” if their moral status comes down to us choosing them as being so. Their capacity to be the objects of our relations does not depend on their own capacity (though they do display certain endowments that are incredible in themselves). Again Metz repeats it a second time “insofar as animals are capable of being identified with and cared for, they morally matter for their own sake such that it would be degrading to be discordant toward them, say, by microwaving a cat merely for a thrill” (Metz 2017, p. 286). How would it be degrading “them” if their morality is not dependent on any of their own interests, apart from that one capacity Metz singles out (forming friendships, love, relations) that we as humans project on them? It is confusing when Metz says “we have direct duties toward many animals with which we can by nature commune” (Metz 2017, p. 289). Does this mean that we do not have a direct duty to all the animals that we choose to identify with and care for, just those that we can in principle? Can the “many” be changed to “all”? Molefe has brought up the fact that in a world without humans, animals would no longer have moral status of any kind (Molefe 2015, 2017). To answer this, it seems that Metz would have to commit to the fact that there is no value in the world without a human valuer, like Callicott, rather that those who identify value as objective (Rolston) and independent of the valuer (Hettinger). Would it not be possible to grant animals a moral status on their own capacity to commune, rather than grant it on the basis of our capacity to commune with objects capable of communing with us such as animals? Should the capacity to commune not at least be directed at sentient animals as sentience is a sufficiently understood phenomenon for being able to commune. And we are also finding out more and more that sentient animals have an incredible capacity to form relationships of their own kind (De Waal 2017).

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Conclusion Without giving up the principle of communing with human animals rather than expanding the scope to nonhuman animals capable of communing, Metz’s moral status theory will not be immune from being called anthropocentric. And I argue that without giving up his moral intuitions in trade-off situations that clash with the implications of his core moral status theory, his theory can be accused of speciesism. Even though there are problems with theoretically justifying certain details of Metz’s theory concerning the “difference” between human and animal moral treatment, one of the apparent practical outcomes if Metz’s moral theory was applied globally is that a lot of animals would benefit (especially those in mass factory settings). There would have to be at least medium interests of humans to supersede the interests of animals not being slaughtered. Trivial interests would fall short to the serious interests of quite a number of sentient animals. Metz’s theory could also cause a problem for the diversity of animals existing in the world, e.g., wild animals, as there is no apparent direct obligation to secure species, if they do not have a considerable input as being objects of human interest, that is, communion. Thus, I would place it close to a sentience-based ethic – as for a practical success if implemented. As it does not give a definite answer to harmful cultural practices towards animals, how is it better than Singer’s proposition of people having global desires that trump their life being more valuable than that of animals in situations of conflict that concern life and death? Metz’s theory even though not being interest based would perhaps still have a similar response to Singer’s in the following example that if I by chance drove over my dog, I would perhaps decide to put it out of its misery instead of saving it through multiple operations which could possibly never help him run again and enjoy his life fully. If I drove over a friend, no matter how severe the situation would be, there would be a duty to attempt to rescue him with all the operations it would require, even though it would imply being severely handicapped.

References Barnes, B., and J. Dupre. 2008. Genomes and what to make of them. Chicago/London: The University of Chicago Press. Behrens, K. 2009. Tony Yengeni’s ritual slaughter: Animal anti-cruelty vs. culture. South African Journal of Philosophy 28 (3): 271. Biko, S. 2004. I write what I like. Johannesburg: Picador Africa. Cochrane. 2010. An introduction to animals and political theory. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Dąbrowski, K. 1996. Multilevelness of emotional and instinctive functions. Part 1: Theory and description of levels of behavior. Lublin: Towarzystwo Naukowe Katolickiego Uniwersytetu Lubelskiego. De Waal, F. 2017. Are we smart enough to know how smart animals are. London: Granta Publications. DeGrazia, D. 2008. Moral status as a matter of degree? Southern Journal of Philosophy 46: 181–198.

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Etieyibo, E. 2017. Anthropocentrism, African metaphysical worldview, and animal practices: A reply to kai horsthemke. Journal of Animal Ethics 7(2): 145–162. Faria, C., and E. Paez. 2014. Anthropocentrism and speciesism: Conceptual and normative issues. Revista de Bioética y Derecho 32: 82–90. Galgut, E. 2017. Animal rights and African ethics: Congruence or conflict? Journal of Animal Ethics 7 (2): 175. Gyekye, K. 1997. Tradition and modernity. New York: Oxford University Press. Horsthemke, K. 2015. Animals and African ethics. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Horsthemke, K. 2017. Biocentrism, ecocentrism, and African modal relationalism: Etieyibo, Metz, and Galgut on animals and African ethics. Journal of Animal Ethics 7 (2): 183. Kagan, S. 2016. What’s wrong with speciesism. Journal of Applied Philosophy 33 (1): 1–21. Kobierzycki, T. 2001. Filozofia osobowos´ci. Od antycznej idei duszy do współczesnej teorii osoby. Warszawa: Eneteia. Levy, N. 2014. Consciousness, implicit attitudes and moral responsibility. Noûs 48 (1): 21–40. Lorenz, K. 2002. On agression. London: Routledge. Mbiti, J. 1969. African religions and philosophy. Oxford: Heinemann Educational Books. Menkiti, I.A. 1984. Person and community in African traditional thought. In African philosophy, ed. R. Wright, 171–181. New York: University of America Press. Metz, T. 2007. Toward an African Moral Theory. The Journal of Political Philosophy 15 (3): 321–341. Metz, T. 2010a. Animal rights and the interpretation of the South African constitution. Southern African Public Law 25: 301–311. Metz, T. 2010b. African and Western moral theories in a bioethical context. Developing World Ethics 10 (1): 49–58. Metz, T. 2012. An African theory of moral status: A relational alternative to individualism and holism. Ethical Theory and Moral Practice 15 (3): 387–402. Metz, T. 2017. Duties toward animals versus rights to culture: An African approach to the conflict in terms of communion. In Animals, race, and multiculturalism, ed. L. Cordeiro-Rodrigues and L. Mitchell. London: Palgrave Macmillan. Metz, T. 2018. How to ground animal rights on African values: A constructive approach. In Method, substance, and the future of African philosophy, ed. E. Etieyibo. Palgrave Macmillan. Molefe, M. 2015. A rejection of humanism in the African moral tradition. Theoria: A Journal of Social and Political Theory 62 (143): 59–77. Molefe, M. 2017. A critique of Thad Metz’s African theory of moral status. South African Journal of Philosophy 36 (2): 195–205. Murove, M.F. 2009. An African environmental ethic based on the concepts of Ukama and Ubuntu, Chapter 18. In African ethics: An anthology of comparative and applied ethics, ed. M.F. Murove, 315–331. Scottsville: University of Kwazulu-Natal Press. Noddings, N. 1984. Caring. Berkeley: University of California Press. Ramose, M.B. 2009. Ecology through Ubuntu, Chapter 18. In African ethics: An anthology of comparative and applied ethics, ed. M.F. Murove, 315–331. Scottsville: University of KwazuluNatal Press. Regan, T. 1983. The case for animal rights. Berkeley: University of California Press. Singer, P. 1976. Practical ethics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Tutu, D. 1999. No future without forgiveness. New York: Random House. United Nations. 2014. World urbanization prospects. New York: United Nations. https://esa.un.org/ unpd/wup/publications/files/wup2014-highlights.pdf. Verhoef, H., and C. Michel. 1997. Studying morality within the African context. Journal of Moral Education 26: 389–407. Warren, M.A. 1997. Moral status. Obligations to persons and other living things. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

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Implications for Moral Status and Uniqueness of Women Mpho Tshivhase

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Women as Morally Deficient Beings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Personhood . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Moral Accountability and Uniqueness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Uniqueness of Women . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Certain descriptions of personhood imbue an individual with a particular kind of moral status. There are different person-making capacities that are generally laid out as central to the idea of personhood. Some of the person-making capacities are what people generally refer to as the grounding of certain normative requirements that enable us to respond to individuals as entities with a moral status. Herein personhood is a matter of certain capacities that create one’s moral status. These descriptions of personhood bring about a specific structure of identification that has implications for moral accountability. In this chapter I aim to interpret the person-making capacities and argue that they can, in some sense, be limiting, and this may be the case in relation to women as a gender group whose personhood has not always been fairly recognized. I will argue that a view of personhood whose person-making capacities exclude a gender group can have negative implications, and I will explore two implications that I think have this negative attitude. On the one hand, a conception of personhood, especially in the descriptive sense that prioritizes rationality and free will above all else, could imply that women, by virtue of lacking such capacities, are not to be considered as M. Tshivhase (*) Department of Philosophy, University of Pretoria, Pretoria, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_17

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individuals with a moral status, wherein society cannot hold them accountable for their actions, nor would they be able to hold others morally accountable. On the other hand, and this second implication relates to difference in the sense of uniqueness, which is grounded on personhood – if women are denied the status of a person, then they would also be excluded from exploring their uniqueness qua radical difference. Keywords

Pershonhood · Uniqueness · Moral responsibility · Dignity · Rationality · Women · Autonomy

Introduction The dignity of individuals can be considered as the foundation for values such as rights and moral worth. There are generally two possible senses in which individuals tend to attach to the idea of “personhood.” On the one hand, personhood encompasses the biological mode of being that is dictated to us by nature. Thinkers such as Kwame Gyekye (1992) seem to defend this idea in terms of the ontological reality of individuals, which ought to be distinguished from the moral reality that is socially determined by one’s surrounding. Another possible way to think of this sense of personhood is in terms of types. Here, a person is a type of species whose biological makeup distinguishes her from, for instance, cats and mice. The dignity that is connected to the idea of personhood is often used to indicate and defend intuitions about the elevated value of persons. Here, persons are to be regarded as more valuable than animals and other nonpersons. Thinkers such as Kant, Locke, and Aristotle champion this idea of human persons as possessing a value higher than those of nonpersons in virtue of their nature as rational beings. The second sense of personhood that one comes across in the literature prioritizes the idea of the moral value of persons. This sense of personhood lends itself to the values that become relevant when people consider issues regarding human rights, respect, autonomy, justice, and so forth. Any morally laden view of personhood supports ideas about many of the social principles that people generally think form part of our acceptable standards of human interaction, wherein such interaction does not involve the violation of other people’s well-being. In general, people tend to show more regard for those who carry the status of personhood as opposed to those who do not. Although they have endorsed the idea of personhood by advancing different arguments, thinkers such as Ifeanyi Menkiti (2004), Dismas Masolo (2010), and Kwasi Wiredu (1992), have tended to attach morality to personhood, so that being a person signifies having a certain moral status, which affords one a different level of consideration than nonpersons. Herein, the abovementioned thinkers tend to prioritize relationality as the key aspect of personhood and criticize the monadic approach to personhood, which isolates some criterion about humans as a mark for personhood. What they find significant about personhood is the moral value it imbues in persons, where such value is a matter of relationality.

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While the abovementioned senses of personhood differ, the ideas expressed by each school of thought on personhood are in some sense related. The second view of moral personhood necessarily depends on biological personhood (see Ikuenobe 2006; Gyekye 1992). One cannot have moral personhood without biological personhood such that the moral sense of a person is dependent on the biological nature of persons. This consideration necessitates the view that persons are necessarily human beings, and as such, this need not take anything away from the value-laden distinction drawn between humans and persons. Moreover, it is this fact of the human body as a necessary requirement for personhood that adds a further point of discrimination between persons and animals. Animals, irrespective of their assumed cognitive abilities or lack thereof, can never be considered persons since they lack the human body (Sapontzis 1981, 608). There are views that describe the relation between the notions of metaphysical and moral personhood. The relation that I am interested in, for the purpose of this chapter, has to do with illustrating the necessary condition relationship between these two senses of personhood. Herein rationality is the necessary condition for morality (Sapontzis 1981, 613). This necessary condition relationship between the descriptive and the moral senses of personhood interests me because they are relevant in the feminist charge against Immanuel Kant, whose view of the moral worth of women is said to dehumanize women (Moller-Okin 1982). I want to argue that this dehumanization of women is a result of women not being regarded as persons. When considering the personhood of women in particular, one could easily dismiss the my concern on the ground that biologically they count as persons. While I do not contest this view, I do find that it is the moral sense of personhood that primarily concerns me. The reason I would like to bring focus to the personhood of women in particular has to do with the suspicion that women, in some theories of personhood, are not considered to possess person-making capacities, which ultimately precludes their freedom to participate in the society as beings with the necessary moral status that eventually makes them morally accountable. Such a moral status, which is attached to personhood, would also enable women to hold other people morally accountable for their actions. I want to illustrate how certain conceptions of personhood fail to consider women as persons, a mistake that I think has imperceptibly influenced the marginalization of women in society in general. There seems to be many different ways in which women are disregarded on a regular basis. I want to use this chapter to illustrate two forms of the perception of women that stem from the manner in which personhood is formulated. I want to argue that personhood, in the descriptive sense that we have inherited from Immanuel Kant, does not leave much room for women to be considered as moral persons. The Kantian view of persons proposes criteria for personhood that disregard women. Herein, I want to argue that the person-making capacities are designed in a way that eventually pushes women to the category of nonpersons. My concern is that such relegation precludes women from participating in society as beings with the capacity for moral agency. Even more alarming is the fact that, as such, women would be held morally accountable for their actions and they would become constrained so that

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they would be unable to impose moral accountability on another individual since their status is that of nonpersons, which is akin to the status of things and/or animals whose existence is often perceived to be valuable insofar as they meet the conditions of utility. The second aspect involves the homogenization of “women” - an aspect that logically follows from the status of nonperson that is appropriated to women. Herein, there seems to be a dangerous view that since women are not moral agents because they lack personhood, it follows that they lack the tools to distinguish themselves from others. Put differently, due to women being nonpersons, they lack the necessary mental capacities to construct their uniqueness so that we come to understand women as similar with no possibility of any woman existing as the only individual that is she. This view holds if we accept my procedural theory of uniqueness, which I construct as a matter of distinction that is grounded on personhood. Procedural uniqueness is a view about a person’s one-within-a-kind distinction that sets her apart from any other persons. Such uniqueness is not an aspect about individuals that can be constructed without the existence of personhood since it is, in large part, one’s personhood that one distinguishes when one engages in a process of constructing uniqueness. In the first section of this chapter, I will discuss Kant’s view that women’s actions are morally deficient with the aim to show how this moral deficiency, in view of Kant’s moral view of personhood, denies women personhood. I will then use the second section to explore the implications of such relegation and argue that the denial of women’s moral agency is the reason to reject the moral sense of personhood. Autonomy, if we follow the logic of Kantian and the Gyekyean senses personhood, are crucial to one’s sense of self, so much so that one’s dignity is violated if such autonomy is limited. My view is that the denial of autonomy takes away from the dignity of women such that women need not be respected and need not be expected to respect others in turn. In the third section, I will explore the second aspect of discrimination or exclusion, which has to do with the homogeneity of category and/or condition of woman. I will sketch the view that the homogenization of woman precludes women from forming their uniqueness. I will argue that it is crucial for women to be seen to have the capacity for personhood, same as men, because without personhood, they cannot begin to construct their uniqueness, since uniqueness is really the distinguishing aspect about a person. I will conclude with the recommendation that there is a need to revise the way we think of personhood in order to release the concept from the exclusionary grip of male dominance. I think that it is this concept of personhood that has, in part, contributed to maintaining the view of women as individuals who lack self-governance and/or agency. I will start by explaining Kant’s supposition that women are morally deficient and illustrate how this supposition ultimately denies women the personhood status. I will then briefly discuss personhood in order to neatly show what it means to be a person. Thereafter, I will discuss the two implications of personhood for women, namely, lack of moral accountability and inability to molds one’s uniqueness.

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Women as Morally Deficient Beings Kant’s regard for women is questionable since the implications of the ideas he promotes about women’s actions and their moral worth in his Observation of the Feeling of the Beautiful and the Sublime (O). Kant’s view of women seems to be partly captured in the following passage: The virtue of woman is a beautiful virtue. That of the male sex ought to be a noble virtue. Women will avoid evil not because it is unjust, but because it is ugly, and for them virtuous actions mean those that are ethically beautiful. Nothing of ought, nothing of must, nothing of obligation. To a woman anything by way of orders and sullen compulsion is insufferable. They do something only because they love to, and the art lies in making sure that they love only what is good. (O 2:232)

Women, according to Kant, are virtuous beings whose virtuosity is a matter of loving what is beautiful and good. Their ethical considerations are a matter of beauty, not principles. Women, while they are good individuals who do good things, their ethical considerations are not motivated by duty, rather, by inclinations. He, in a sense, asserts that women are not and cannot be moral agents since their behavior is motivated by inclinations and not rationality or duty (O 2:232). Kant shows clearly in his Groundwork for the Metaphysics of Morals that duty is grounded on autonomy, where only acts that are performed from the motive of duty possess moral value (G 4:397–4:398). “I pass over all actions that are already recognized as contrary to duty, even though they might be useful for this or that aim; for with them the question cannot arise at all whether they might be done from duty, since they even conflict with it” (G 4:397). It matters to Kant to distinguish between acts that are done from duty and those done from other motives. The case of the shopkeeper is useful in this regard. In the case of the shopkeeper, he chooses to be honest with his clients; however, his honesty lacks esteem or moral value because, while being honest conforms to morality, the motive behind his honesty is not duty. It is for the latter reason that his action is not considered morally valuable (G 4:397–398; Korsgaard, 177–178; Mikkola 2011). The shopkeeper’s act of serving his customers honestly is not a matter of duty; it is a self-serving matter. In this sense it differs from the kind of moral deficiency that Kant claims plagues women’s actions. In brief, Kant finds women’s actions morally deficient because he thinks they are done from inclination. Upon consideration in line with other views that Kant expresses in his Groundwork for the Metaphysics of Morals, there are connotations in the idea that women are morally deficient that one cannot ignore. Based on the structure of his moral theory, to say that women act out of inclinations is to assert that they do not act out of reason. Rationality is the seat of autonomy, so that without rationality one cannot be considered to be autonomous. The crux of his moral reasoning is that it is only persons who have the capacity for rationality, thus it is only persons who possess the moral status since they understand the demand of duty, which makes their actions noble. This is, in part, how Kant comes to identify rationality as the person-making

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feature. In doing so, he works women out of the category of persons as their lack of rationality indicates a lack of autonomy, where such a lack holds by virtue of their nature as women, which is, simply put, something other than male. Susan Moller Okin notes that by making rationality the fundamental precondition for morality, Kant dehumanizes women as he asserts that women know nothing of morality, i.e., duty and obligation (1982, 82). Consequently, the view that women are morally deficient necessitates the judgment that they lack autonomy. The lack of autonomy is another particularly worrying aspect since, on the Kantian view, autonomy is the foundation of dignity. To classify women as morally deficient is tantamount to viewing them as something other than human; thus relegating them from the category of persons which, and I agree with Pauline Kleingeld, is quite dreadful (Kleingeld 1993, 134). Mikkola (2011, 92–94) warns that one should not be too quick to judge Kant’s view of women as deplorable. She suggests that one should look at what Kant means when he states that women act out of inclination and not duty or obligation. In order to do so, one has to consider what it is that makes an action morally worthy. On Kant’s view actions are morally worthy when they are motivated by duty. When one acts out of duty for the sake of duty, then that action is considered to have moral worth. Mikkola asserts a distinction between acts that are in accordance with duty, that is, acts that have legality, and acts that are performed from duty, that is, acts that have morality (2011, 95). On this view, it would appear that women’s moral deficiency is a matter of the latter issue regarding acts motivated by duty. While women accord with duty in the legal sense, their actions lack moral worth because women act without consideration for moral requirement, and in this way they prioritize inclination. Ultimately, their actions are devoid of moral esteem. It is not to say that women are wicked people; it simply means that they perform good acts for the wrong reasons. The reason that matters for performing good actions involves viewing goodness as a moral requirement, something that Kant seems to argue that women are incapable of. Overall, Mikkola rejects that view that Kant views women as morally deficient and ultimately portrays them as nonpersons with a relative value. Her main reason for defending Kant is that he, at no point, explicitly states that women are nonmoral nonpersons. She does admit that there are inconsistencies in his work that open up the possibility of interpretations that regard his view of women to be that they do not count as persons, which would be deplorable. While there is merit in her generous interpretation of Kant’s view of women, her approach in defending him seems to rely mainly in showing that there is no specific area in the text where Kant writes explicitly that women are morally deficient nonpersons. Although this is true, it would strike one inconsistent since the very defense of Kant is itself based, in most part, on interpretive statements that Kant never explicitly wrote. If we cannot accept the objections to Kant’s work because there is no textual reference for them, it should hold that we should not defend his work based on arguments that lack textual reference. Say one gives Mikkola’s view the benefit of the doubt and accepts her defense of Kant’s consideration of women as persons. Based on his view of morality, it seems

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difficult to ignore that the logic of his moral view makes it challenging to think that women count as persons when they act mainly from inclinations and not rationality. Given the centrality of dignity for personhood, where dignity is derived from autonomy, which is grounded in rationality, it seems difficult to argue that Kant considers women to be persons when he excludes rationality as the basis for their actions. For Mikkola’s defense of Kant to hold, she would have to show that Kant regards women to have rational will as this would provide grounding for their objective value, i.e., dignity. Kant is pretty clear about women doing good deeds, not because it is noble and morally required to do so, but because they think it is beautiful to be virtuous (O 2:232). It is the structure of Kantian logic that Mikkola would have to explain away in order for her view to convince readers that Kant regards women to be rational in the nondiscriminatory way that her view aims to illustrate. The exclusion of women from the category of rational beings, i.e., persons, has certain consequences, but I will mention only two. The first consequence has to do with moral accountability. Given that women’s actions lack moral worth, how can we hold them responsible for their actions? The reverse consideration is also worrying, namely, how do women then hold others morally responsible for their actions, especially when they are in violation of a woman’s well-being? My second concern, which is closely tied to the idea of personhood, has to do with the possibility of women defining themselves as individuals who are radically distinct from any other individual. My concerns will make more sense after I illustrate, in the next section, that Kantian logic works women out of the category of personhood.

Personhood Different conceptions of personhood emphasize different aspects of what it means to be a person (see Tshivhase 2013). While the debates about personhood noticeably distinguish between two approaches, namely, the African and the Western approaches in order to illustrate what matters in personhood, I wish to set aside the differences and focus on one possible point of similarity. This is not to say that the differences in these theories do not matter, simply that for the purposes of the task I have set in this chapter, it will suffice to argue that at bottom proponents of either of the two abovementioned approaches seemingly use personhood as a reference for awarding certain social values that, in most instances, inform the worth of an individual. Immanuel Kant provides a theory of personhood that is both descriptive and morally loaded. It is descriptive in the sense that it isolates a certain capacity as necessary for an individual to be considered a person. For Kant, the necessary person-making capacity is rationality. In other words, what it means to be a person is a matter of existing as a being of a rational nature – a thinking being. Herein the psychological capacity of reason is regarded a necessary and sufficient condition for personhood (Snowdon 1995, 655; See Locke 1689). This view of persons as rational beings with the ability to think and reflect on lived experiences is central to

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arguments that aim to show a distinction between animals and persons. The distinction is often framed in a way that indicates characteristic differences between animals and persons with aim to show that there is something in the nature of persons that differs from that of animals. Moreover, it is the value that persons have by virtue of being persons that makes them more valuable than animals (Zagzebski 2001, 407; Sapontzis 1981, 610–614). Arguably, animals, trees, and material objects lack this capacity to reason. Thought of in this way, it is undeniable that man-made things and trees do not have the mental capacity to think, and, thus, the view that rationality distinguishes person from animals and other nonpersons is quite plausible. The notion that rationality is a necessary and sufficient condition for personhood is met with some objections. Firstly, the view excludes beings such as fetuses and infants from being regarded as persons (Laitinen 2007, 251). Secondly, it is, in Zagzebski’s view, possible for a person to exist without all aspects of rationality so that it becomes possible for a being without all aspects of rationality to be a person (2001 405). For instance, while solving mathematical equations requires rationality, many have existed and continue to exist without that capacity. Furthermore, the monadic definition of personhood such as Kant’s is slightly removed from lived experience. It seems empty to speak of capacities without taking into account the fact of socialization. According to Laitinen, socialization is central to the development of capacities such as rationality, ability to discriminate right from wrong, ability to plan, and so forth (2007, 261). Laitinen’s point is that person-making capacities are a matter of development wherein such development or actualization occurs through social interactions with other people. Laitinen’s argument in this case echoes the views of those who emphasize the importance of relationality, over and above individual capacities in a definition of personhood. Thinkers who champion the normative view of personhood generally reject the descriptive view of personhood in favor of a more communal definition, which emphasizes an individual’s connectedness with others (Behrens 2013; Menkiti 1984, 2004; Masolo 2010; Ikuenobe 2006). On the communal view of persons, what is means to be a person is a matter that can be conferred or denied by the community (Manzini 2018, 20–22). Personhood is also not a static aspect about an individual; rather it is something that one develops as one interacts with others. One is not born a person. One becomes a person through relations with others. In this sense, it is possible to lose one’s personhood (Tshivhase 2013, 121–123). What matters most on this relational view of persons is that persons see themselves not as independent substances, but as people whose sense of being and sense of morality is closely tied to the people around them, so that what it means to become a person necessarily involves recognition from others. It is crucial to understand that while Kant’s conception of personhood is mainly descriptive, it forms the foundation for the value of persons, which is central to his ideas of morality. On the Kantian conception of a person, it is necessary for an individual to possess rationality in order to have dignity, where dignity is a value that sets persons apart from nonpersons. Dignity is also the value that commands other

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persons to treat you with respect because it is your dignity that persons respond to when they treat you well (G 4:434–4:440). In other words, dignity is what gives individuals the appropriate moral worth, and it is rationality that grounds this value so that beings that lack dignity are considered to be nonpersons and consequently lack the capacity to act for ends. It is this aspect of personhood that makes it possible or persons to be moral beings who can be held morally responsible for their actions. In the same vein, it is rationality that makes it possible for persons to hold other persons responsible for their actions. Thus one can say that rationality, as conceived of in Kantian personhood, limits morality, i.e., moral accountability and moral value, to persons so that those who are not persons cannot participate within the moral sphere. Overall, persons are perceived as beings that possess the capacity to think/reason/deliberate. According to Kant, rationality is the seat of autonomy, and it is from autonomy we derive dignity (See Korsgaard 2008). The notion of dignity that Kant advances in his Groundwork for the Metaphysics of Morals is one upon which persons should ground their moral consideration for others. Herein persons are expected to respond to another’s dignity with respect. One is to understand the dignity of oneself and that of another as the value that restrains one from violating oneself or another’s well-being. David Velleman (1999), much like Linda Zagzebski, notes the value of dignity as a value that distinguishes persons from animals. Velleman asserts this view in order to support the idea the dignity affords persons a value that gives them irreplaceable and incomparable worth. Velleman uses Kant’s notion that dignity exalts a person’s worth above price (1999, 368–369). Kant makes a distinction between price and dignity; he illustrates that things that have a price can be compared in value and are thus replaceable (G 4:434). In relation to persons, talk of replaceability does not fit as dignity is kind of value that escapes comparability and replaceability. The idea of rationality as the mark of personhood or moral beings is also present in the works of thinkers such as Plato (1955) and Aristotle (1981). While they argue for the centrality of rationality for different reasons, they do maintain that it is rationality that grounds moral life so that those who lack such capacity for rationality cannot be considered to possess any moral value. Thinkers such as Mogobe Ramose (2002) have expressed concern regarding, what appears to be, an exclusionary view of persons. Ramose responds to Aristotle’s view that humans are marked by their rational nature. Though Ramose’s rejection of Aristotle has more to do with defending the need for inclusivity in scholarship of Philosophy, it is clear, that at bottom, Ramose takes issue with the isolation of one aspect about beings as the mark of humanity wherein such a mark distinguishes you from other species by essentially affording those who possess this characteristic i.e., rationality, with a value above those who lack it. The view that “[m]an is a rational animal” gives centrality to the capacity for reasoning in much the same way that Kant’s view of persons does. Ramose’s response to the idea of rationality as the center of human existence, whether used to illustrate intelligence (Aristotle) or as a mark of moral value (Kant), illustrates the danger of placing one aspect of humans as the defining element of being.

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What is important to take here is the point about rationality as the mark for personhood, wherein rationality is what matters when it comes to the moral consideration of individuals. Rationality is the foundation for autonomy (Kagan 2002, 114–117). Without autonomy, one cannot speak of dignity since dignity is grounded in autonomy. The aim of this section was mainly to point out the aspect that has become central to some Western conceptions of personhood, i.e., rationality. In the next section, I plan to argue that the logic of the Kantian conception of personhood does not leave much room to consider women as members of the community of persons. I wish to show that this logic runs the risk of excluding women from the category of moral agents as they could easily be classified as nonpersons. Ultimately, Kant sets up his moral view of persons with the aim to show the difference between morally worthy actions and morally worthless actions. His view is that acts derive their moral value from the moral agent performing them. In other words, acts are morally worthy insofar as they are performed from the motive of duty. An individual who performs a good act from the motive of inclinations fails to demonstrate moral concern and so can be found to be morally deficient. Interestingly, Kant’s view of women, as expressed in the Observations of the Feeling of the Beautiful and the Sublime, portrays woman as lacking moral conviction. If my interpretation of Kant’s view of persons in relation to women holds, then I want to assert a further argument that if we accept Kant’s view, then we run a further risk of preventing women from constructing their own uniqueness as individual persons, and so, support views that aim to portray those belonging to the category of women to possess some kind of homogenous identity that is ascribed by socially determined stereotypes.

Moral Accountability and Uniqueness The argument I plan to illustrate and defend here has to do with the moral worth of women. I have argued, following Okin’s view, that by virtue of arguing that women act from the motivation of inclinations and not duty, Kant removes them from the realm of rational an autonomous individuals so that they are considered morally deficient in the sense of nonpersons. In this section I want to show the ramifications of such a view. If one accepts that women are, in a sense, nonpersons whose acts are morally deficient, then one will struggle to give any moral weight to women themselves. What I mean is that women, as individuals whose actions lack moral worth mainly because women do not act with moral consideration, cannot themselves be considered to be moral agents since a failure to act out of duty indicates a lack of autonomy, where autonomy is grounded in rationality. It follows then that women cannot act out of duty because they lack rationality. If they lack rationality, they are not persons. And if they are not persons, then they lack moral worth, i.e., dignity. Such a view of women takes away from the possibility of viewing women as beings with the capacity to carry moral responsibility. Their actions, while good and virtuous, are not moral. Therefore, women’s virtuous actions are acts that cannot be

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appraised in terms of moral blameworthiness or praiseworthiness. In view of failing to perform actions from duty or obligation, (1) women’s actions are morally deficient, and (2) women cannot be praised or blamed for their actions. A further concern for me is that if we accept the abovementioned claims, then we run into the problem of relieving them from moral accountability. However this relief is followed by, at least, one obvious consequence. If we release women from moral accountability, then it seems inconsistent to think that they are owed moral consideration so that in the instance of some individual violating their well-being, they would have no recourse to hold that individual morally accountable for their actions. This seems to be a plausible interpretation (and application) of Kant’s view of persons. Since women do not seem to fall into the category of persons, it follows their value is not one of dignity but that of price (See G 4:397). This also follows from the argument regarding rational being as the only persons who can perform actions from duty. Given that women act from inclinations, which then renders their actions morally deficient, it seems logical to think that women are nonpersons who lack the necessary sense of autonomy that grounds dignity, which commands respect. Put crudely, women are beings whose existence does not command the respect that is afforded to rational beings. Given their lack of self-governing principles, it is not impossible then to think that women cannot deliberate and make choices for themselves. Incidentally, autonomy is one necessary, though not sufficient, condition for uniqueness; it seems that Kant’s claims about women not being rational could be interpreted to women’s sense of self. In the next session, I plan to illustrate how lack of autonomy due to lack of rationality can also shut women out of the possibility of self-interpretation and self-knowledge that are key to constructing one’s uniqueness.

The Uniqueness of Women One possible way of understanding women is to simply consider them as persons. What it means to be a person involves different considerations whose explanations regarding the nature of persons aim to clarify the characteristics that are fundamental to the description of what it means to be a person. One finds different approaches to the concept of personhood, namely, the descriptive and the normative accounts of personhood. In my investigation of what it is that grounds the uniqueness of women, I will use the descriptive and normative aspects that are imbedded in the Kantian conception of personhood. My main aim here is to illustrate that the idea of women as individuals lacking person-making characteristics such as the ones promoted by Kant, i.e., rationality, autonomy, and duty, could have implications for the possibility of women constructing self-directed and authentic identities that set them apart from others in the sense contained in ideas of uniqueness. Uniqueness, in the manner that I construe it, is grounded in personhood (see Tshivhase 2018). There are, at least, two different senses of uniqueness. The one sense of uniqueness is based on a general sense of difference wherein one type of this is different from the other type in virtue each possessing a feature that the other lacks

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(McMullin 1969, 33–37). Such uniqueness is a general kind of uniqueness that is based on the difference in nature. In accordance with uniqueness in general, a car would be unique to a stone because each of their natures is constituted by stuff that the other one lacks. In this sense both the stone and the car are unique. Nonetheless, this is not the sense of uniqueness I am interested in. I am interested in the sense of personal uniqueness that has to do with differences within kind. What interests me is a matter of distinction between things of the same kind. To be more concrete, I want to discuss the distinction of persons among other persons. It is my view that there is something among persons that distinguishes them from each other in a way that would make each person one within her kind. Uniqueness in this personal sense is a matter of irreplaceability, incomparability, and rarity. For a competing view on uniqueness of persons, see Zagzebski (2001) wherein she presents what I call the personhood view of uniqueness, which grants individuals uniqueness by virtue of being persons. One also finds a genetic view of uniqueness where one is unique in so far as one has DNA (Miller 1998). The third competing view of personal uniqueness is that God created persons unique. This view is championed by Colosi (2008) and Crosby 1998 who take their cue from Max Scheler. I reject all three since they are based on notions of uniqueness that portray uniqueness as an aspect of the self that is always already unique, no matter what one does.) Irreplaceability has to do with a particular configuration of one’s identity, which cannot be substituted by another, as it should not be repeated in another (Gowans 1996; Grau 2004; Kadlac 2012). Incomparability is a value that people often bestow on others, where such a value admits to no standard of measure. Rarity has to do with the infrequent instantiation of one’s irreplaceable and incomparable identity. All three criteria for my conception on uniqueness of persons necessarily involve personhood. Furthermore, they seem necessary when considering the value of a person. Moreover, the process involved in constructing one’s personal uniqueness necessitates autonomy and authenticity. Autonomy and authenticity are not sufficient conditions for uniqueness, but they are necessary. It is because of the necessity of autonomy and authenticity that I call this view the procedural view of uniqueness of persons. In order to become unique, one must develop authenticity and autonomy in order to create a distinct identity in a manner that is self-driven and not dictated to one by others who would impose their views upon the individual. Kant’s logic, which gives primacy to rationality in personhood, precludes women from fostering their own senses of procedural uniqueness. This occurs in two ways: (1) women lack rationality thus they are not persons – the problem here is that without personhood women have nothing to distinguish in the sense of personhood or procedural uniqueness as these two senses of personal uniqueness necessarily apply only to persons; (2) women are not autonomous – the problem here is that without autonomy women are forced to maintain a sense of difference that is limited to uniqueness in general where everything of a specific type is unique to any other thing of a specific type. This interpretation flows from the idea that Kant mistakenly disregards the value of women based on their nature.

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To sum up, the theory of persons we get in Kant’s moral philosophy and the view he asserts about women lacking the necessary principles that would render their actions unique hold implications for the possibility of women constructing their own identities, which they can mold into uniqueness that would set them apart from other persons. By preventing women from living as autonomous beings, Kant takes too much away from women.

Conclusion The value of persons has significance on a social and individual level. On a social level, the status of person affords one access to and protection of one’s rights and respect as a moral individual whose well-being should not be violated. On a personal level, the values such as autonomy become crucial when one has a desire for self-knowledge and the creation of an identity that is not dictated to one by others. Kant’s theory of persons bars women from the basic values that are important for an acceptable sort of existence that does not force one to live without said values by virtue of one’s nature. On the basis of the personal implication of Kant’s view of women, people ought not to endorse such a view so that women are not restricted to explore and experiment with their own sense of self. Apart from preventing women from being moral agents, it also denies them the freedom to hold others accountable. It is this implication that is particularly deplorable as it gives us no tools to defend women in the instance of violation. Given the treatment of the implications of Kant’s theory of personhood for the moral status and uniqueness of women, I think it may be worthwhile to investigate the possible link between Kant’s disregard of women as moral beings and the perpetual violence against women (and children).

References Aristotle. 1981. Aristotle’s metaphysics. Trans. W.D. Ross. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Behrens, K. 2013. Two “normative” conceptions of personhood. Quest: An African Journal of Philosophy 23–24: 103–118. Colosi, P.J. 2008. The uniqueness of persons in the life and thought of Karol Wojtyla/Pope John Paul II, with emphasis on his indebtedness to Max Scheler. In Karol Wojtyla’s philosophical legacy, ed. N. Mardas, A.B.. Curry, and G.F. McLean, vol. 35, 61–99. Dordrecht/Washington, DC: D Reidel/Council for Research in Values and Philosophy. Crosby, J.F. 1998. The individuality of human persons: A study in the ethical personalism of Max Scheler. The Review of Metaphysics 52: 21–50. Gowans, C. 1996. Intimacy, freedom, and unique value: A “Kantian” account of the irreplaceable and incomparable value of persons. American Philosophical Quarterly 33: 75–89. Grau, C. 2004. Irreplaceability and unique value. Philosophical Topics 32: 111–129. Gyekye, K. 1992. Person and Community in Akan Thought. In: K. Wiredu & K. Gyekye, eds. Person and Community: Ghanaian Philosophical Studies, I. Washington DC: The Council for Research in Values and Philosophy, pp. 101–122.

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Ikuenobe, P. 2006. Philosophical perspectives on communalism and morality in African traditions. Lanham: Lexington Books. Kadlac, A. 2012. Irreplaceability and identity. Social Theory and Practice 33: 33–54. Kagan, S. 2002. Kantianism for consequentialists. In Kant’s groundwork for the metaphysics of morals, ed. Alan Wood, 111–156. New Haven: Yale University Press. Kant, I. 2002. Groundwork for the metaphysics of morals. Trans. A. W. Wood. Binghamton: VailBallou Press. Kant, I. 2011. In Observations on the feeling of the beautiful and sublime and other writings, ed. P. Frierson and P. Guyer. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kleingeld, P. 1993. The problematic status of gender-neutral language in the history of philosophy: The case of Kant. Philosophical Forum 25: 134–150. Korsgaard, C. 2008. The constitution of agency: Essays on practical reason and moral psychology. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Laitinen, A. 2007. Sorting out aspects of personhood. In Dimensions of personhood, ed. A. Laitinen and H. Ikäheimo, 248–270. Charlottesville: Imprint Academic. Locke, J. 1689. An essay concerning human understanding. London: Rivington. Manzini, N. 2018. Menkiti’s normative communitarian conception of personhood as gendered, ableist and anti-queer. South African Journal of Philosophy 37: 18–33. Masolo, D.A. 2010. Self and community in a changing world. Indianapolis: Indiana University Press. McMullin, E. 1969. Philosophies of nature. New Scholasticism 43: 29–74. Menkiti, I. 1984. Person and community in African traditional thought. In African philosophy: An introduction, ed. R.A. Wright, 171–181. New York: University Press of America. Menkiti, I. 2004. On the normative conception of a person. In A companion to African philosophy, ed. K. Wiredu, 324–331. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing. Mikkola, M. 2011. Kant on moral agency and women’s nature. Kantian Review 16: 89–111. Miller, H. 1998. DNA blueprints, personhood and genetic privacy. Health Matrix 8: 179–221. Okin, S. 1982. Women and the making of the sentimental family. Philosophy and Public Affairs 11: 65–88. Plato. 1955. The republic. Trans. D. Lee. Middlesex: Penguin Books. Ramose, M.B. 2002. The struggle for reason in Africa. In The African philosophy reader, ed. P.H. Coetzee and A.P.J. Roux, 143–159. London: Routledge. Sapontzis, S.F. 1981. Critique of personhood. Ethics 91: 607–618. Snowdon, P. 1995. Persons. In The Oxford companion to philosophy, ed. T. Honderich, 655–656. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Tshivhase, M. 2013. Personhood: Social approval or a unique identity? Quest: An African Journal of Philosophy 23–24: 119–140. Tshivhase, M. 2018. Towards a normative theory of uniqueness of persons, Unpublished Dissertation. University of Johannesburg. https://ujcontent.uj.ac.za/vital/access/manager/Repository/ uj:28180 Velleman, J. 1999. Love as a moral emotion. Ethics 109: 338–374. Wiredu, K. 1992. Moral Foundations of an African Culture. In: K. Wiredu & K. Gyekye, eds. Person and Community: Ghanaian Philosophical Studies, I. Washington DC: The Council for Research in Values and Philosophy, pp. 193–206. Zagzebski, L. 2001. The uniqueness of persons. The Journal of Religious Ethics 29: 401–423.

Some Epistemological Issues in the Othering of Persons with Albinism in Africa

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Theory of Knowledge and Elitist Virtue Epistemology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Epistemology of Ignorance . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Albinism, Bad Epistemic Practice, and the Well-Being of PWAS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Persons with albinism (PWAs) are considered an other, a different or queer entity in many African societies. They are not only considered as physically different but also as ontologically different in black African communities. The frictions in the relations of the black folks with PWAs in African communities largely ensue from the ideas and knowledge claims about the nature of their being. I begin this chapter by exploring the African theory of knowledge and the resulting elitist virtue epistemology. Elitist virtue epistemology, as I will show, consists mainly of the claim that to know is to partake of the epistemic competence of an elite class in a particular social system, for the elite class is seen as the source of epistemic value and members of the class are thought to possess intellectual and moral competence to sustain accurate knowledge. I then examine the nature of the epistemology of ignorance and its role in African epistemology of albinism. By

An earlier and abridged draft of this chapter was presented at the 4th Annual International Conference of the Centre for Phenomenology in South Africa with the theme, Justice and the Other, organized by the Department of Philosophy, University of Fort Hare, South Africa, from the 24 to 26 March 2017, at the Crawfords Beach Lodge, Chintsa, South Africa. E. Imafidon (*) Department of Philosophy, Faculty of Arts, Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma, Nigeria e-mail: elvis.imafi[email protected]; elvismafi@yahoo.com © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_18

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epistemology of ignorance, I mean here knowledge, which, though not factual, is actively and deliberately produced and sustained for domination and exploitation, carefully crafted to serve an authoritarian structure, skillfully assimilated into culture, and passed down from generation to generation. I proceed further to examine the extent to which an African elitist virtue epistemology and the epistemology of ignorance could constitute bad epistemic practice for the knowledge of the albinotic other in African societies. I conclude by showing that a deliberate attempt to understand the nature of the (albinotic) other rather than the mere assimilation and reliance on social representations of the other would provide basis for a positive relationship with the other . Keywords

Epistemology of ignorance · Elitist virtue epistemology · Albinism · Difference · Bad epistemic practice

Introduction The indigenous thought of African societies is replete with knowledge claims about disability and queerness that should be mind-boggling for any rational and critical mind particularly when viewed against the background of verifiable knowledge claims about the same human conditions in scientific thought. For the sake of analysis, let us take some time to highlight a few of these bizarre epistemic claims. In a number of African communities, twins, triplets, or quadruplets are considered as unusual beings that bring bad luck to the community and hence should be killed at birth. Now this is not even a disability but a contextualized queerness because twins are not considered as unusual in many other places. Between October 2015 and April 2016, Nigerian media played a key role in exposing the ongoing killing of twins in about eight communities in the northern part of Nigeria including Abaji, Kwali, Gwagwalada, and Kuje. News agencies came to be aware of the continuous practice due to the effort of a couple, Mr. and Mrs. Olusola Stevens, who had started an NGO some years back to rescue these twin babies from the hospitals in these localities immediately they were delivered. As of April 2016, they had about a hundred babies rescued. This is because apart from twins, the community had other babies categorized as “evil babies” such as babies whose mothers died during their delivery; such ones were buried alive with their dead mother if not rescued. A Nigerian news agency interviewed one of the community’s elders Pa Muhammad to get his thought on the justification for such an awful practice. He refused to comment but only insisted that the culture has to be protected. Matters are worse for parents because these communities have no access to good hospital; they have to depend on traditional midwives who immediately alert the community elders if a woman gives birth to twins. Now, we would have still felt bad if such infanticide had taken place say five centuries back, but it is taking place in our time.

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Another example is that persons with angular kyphosis are targeted in many African traditions as having high potency for many forms of rituals. Hence, they are hunted for their angular kyphosis. In 2011 in Nigeria, a court remanded four persons in custody for killing a woman, Ifeoma Angela Igwe, with angular kyphosis. Early in 2017, police officers in Southern Nigeria apprehended three middle-aged men who had killed a man, Eleoma Edegbeyin, with angular kyphosis in the early hours of the morning, cut off the disabled part of his body, and were on their way to a witch doctor who would use it for money-making ritual when they were apprehended with the body part. These are instances of those caught in the act with many left unreported and not apprehended. A third example which is crucial for our discourse in this chapter concerns persons with albinism (PWAs). There are many worrisome knowledge claims about persons with albinism. They are considered queer and harmful beings having lesser status than human beings. The outcome of this ontological representation of such persons is felt easily in the various ideas about their being in different African communities. For instance, persons with albinism are considered to be ghosts; cursed persons, as expressed, for instance, in the Zulu word, isishawa; the result of divine punishment on a family; the punitive outcome of adultery on the part of the woman; evil, harmful, and horrible being, as expressed, for instance, in the Yoruba word, afin; and a being that does not die but merely disappears, to mention a few. Persons with albinism are by implication alleged to be a threat to community members as long as they are alive but having high potency for ritual purposes when dead. Hence, in black markets in East Africa, a limb of a person with albinism sells for a minimum of 600USD and the full body sells for as much as 75,000USD. These are, of course, worrisome and disturbing experiences in Africa emerging from knowledge claims held by people who are convinced that they are true, indubitable, and reliable. Two basic knowledge claims about disability and queerness stand out from our discourse so far: (a) disabled and queer beings such as PWAs are most likely harmful and evil; and (b) disabled and queer beings such as PWAs have high potency for ritual purposes. A number of epistemological questions arise from these claims. How do people come to know these things? How are such falsehood disguised as knowledge claims sustained in human society to the time we live in? How reliable and justified are these knowledge claims about disability and queerness? How can falsehood and ignorance be overcome in African thought systems? In this chapter, I begin by exploring the African theory of knowledge and the resulting elitist virtue epistemology. Elitist virtue epistemology, as I will show, consists mainly of the claim that to know is to partake of the epistemic competence of an elite class in a particular social system, for the elite class is seen as the source of epistemic value and members of the class are thought to possess intellectual and moral competence to sustain accurate knowledge. I then examine the nature of the epistemology of ignorance and its role in African epistemology of albinism. By epistemology of ignorance, I mean here knowledge, which, though not factual, is actively and deliberately produced and sustained for domination and exploitation, carefully crafted to serve an authoritarian structure, skillfully assimilated into culture

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and passed down from generation to generation. I proceed further to examine the extent to which an African elitist virtue epistemology and the epistemology of ignorance could constitute bad epistemic practice for the knowledge of the albinotic other in African societies and highlight aspects to focus on in overcoming such bad epistemic practice for the well-being and just treatment of persons with albinism.

African Theory of Knowledge and Elitist Virtue Epistemology African theory of knowledge or African epistemology can be conceptualized on different levels. In the first level of conceptualization, to know is to have firsthand information or a personal experience of an object or an event. (This section is an abridged version of my chapter titled “The Epistemology of Albinism in African Traditions” in the book, Elvis Imafidon, African Philosophy and the Otherness of Albinism: White Skin, Black Race (Oxon and New York: Routledge 2019), pp. 52–72.) In other words, an African knows what she has personally sensed or experienced, and there is no question of doubts about it. The person who claims to know in this level of epistemic competence has witnessed or experienced what she knows firsthand through the senses. This theory of knowledge in African traditions is aptly developed by Barry Hallen in his essay “Yoruba Moral Epistemology.” According to him, within the Yoruba thought system: Persons are said to mo (to “know”) or to have imo (“knowledge”) only of something they have witnessed in a first-hand or personal manner. The example most frequently cited by discussants, virtually as a paradigm, is visual perception of a scene or an event as it is taking place. Imo is said to apply to sensory perception generally, even if what may be experienced directly by touch is more limited than is the case with perception. Imo implies a good deal more than mere sensation, of course. Perception implies cognition as well, meaning that the persons concerned must comprehend that and what they are experiencing. The terms “ooto”/ “otito” are associated with “imo” in certain respects that parallel the manner in which “true” and “truth” are paired with “know”/“knowledge” in the English language. In the English language “truth” is principally a property of propositional knowledge, of statements human beings make about things, while in Yoruba ooto may be a property of both propositions and certain forms of experience. (Hallen 2004)

Hallen therefore draws a distinction between firsthand and secondhand information. Secondhand information, as distinct from the direct experience of firsthand information, is the propositional knowledge highly valued in Western epistemology. And these are information that “cannot be tested or proven in a decisive manner by most people and therefore has to be accepted as true because it ‘agrees’ with common sense or because it ‘corresponds’ to or ‘coheres’ with the very limited amount of information that people are able to test and confirm in a firsthand or direct manner (Barry Hallen, Yoruba Moral Epistemology. 298.).” The distinction that Hallen makes between firsthand and secondhand information is akin to the distinction John Hospers makes between facts as actual states of affairs and facts as true propositions (see Hospers 1973). Facts as actual states of affairs are not propositional

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per say but refer to the configuration of things around us, how the objects and events in the world happen to be, and our experience of them. Facts as true proposition on the other hand are statements that are true by virtue of the fact that they can be verified directly or indirectly and it is in this sense that we talk about scientific facts and knowledge. Knowledge in African traditions, according to Hallen in this first level of conceptualization, would consist of the first reports or information about actual state of affairs as experienced by the reporter or informant. A number of issues arise from discussing the theory of knowledge in African traditions to this level alone. For one thing, this manner of claiming to know is not peculiar to Africans alone. It is, in fact, a common sense way of claiming to know by humans in general. I can lay claim to knowing what I saw or directly witnessed without needing to subject it to any further rigorous form of verification. There is the issue of the moral standing of the informant. This is precisely the point Hallen brings out in his essay. If I experience an event firsthand, and I relate it to two or three other persons, for what I relate to them to be taken as knowledge for them the same way I do, they must have complete trust in my honesty and reliability as an informant at that moment. If there have been several cases in the past where I related a firsthand experience and it later turned out to be false or largely incorrect in description, then my honesty and reliability would be called into question whenever I give firsthand information about an event or an object. This will only result in episteme solipsism where I know but others do not know what I know. Similarly, if my several firsthand information have always proved to be apt and correct, then it is likely that even when I make a mistake or provide inappropriate description of my knowledge claim, others would still take my information as accurate knowledge. Now, the king and the elders and other members of the elite class in an African community are regarded as reliable, trustworthy informant of firsthand experience. When they, for instance, go to the shrine to consult the oracle, they return to provide the community members with firsthand information from the oracle, and this is taken as indubitable knowledge claims mainly because of the moral and epistemic status of the informant. In fact, the bulk of what has come to stay as objective knowledge claims in African traditions were arrived at through this process of the elite class reporting firsthand information from their experience of invisible agency. And we shall be returning to this point in due course in our discourse of an elitist virtue epistemology. In the second level of conceptualizing an African theory of knowledge developed by Kwame Anthony Appiah in his paper “African Studies and the Concept of Knowledge,” persons in an African community can claim to know if the knowledge claim is consistent or coherent with established body of beliefs. Such established beliefs in African traditions include the belief in the agency of invisible entities such as ancestors, divinities, and manipular forces, the belief in the interaction of beings that could result in either the strengthening or weakening of ones vita force, the belief in specific kinds of rituals and taboos, or in the high epistemic competence of a community elder as a custodian of the traditions of the people. Knowledge claims made by specific persons within specific spheres of existence must fit within such consistent sets of beliefs in order for others not to become skeptical of such claims. Therefore, to make specific knowledge claims about persons with albinism, for

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instance, is to make a claim that is consistent with the established beliefs about albinism within the African framework of thought. Knowledge as consistent with established beliefs does not require knowing why an object or event is taken the way it is. It simply requires knowing that it is the way it is because it fits within a larger framework of thought. To know is therefore to be knowledgeable in the ways of the people, not necessarily having some explanation for why the ways of the people are such and such and who, in an African community, can be more knowledgeable about the ways of the people than members of the elite class. Here again, knowledge as consistent with established beliefs depends largely on what has been presented and sustained in the thought system of the people through members of the elite class. A major problem with this theory of knowing is the gap it could maintain between rationality and consistency where the former must include elements of truth and the later may completely lack it. For instance, in light of emerging facts about albinism in modern times as a human condition caused by the lack of melanin, the established and consistent beliefs in African traditions about the nature of albinism are called into question and their rationality challenged even when they may be consistent. This is aptly captured by Kwame Anthony Appiah when he says: Rationality is best conceived of as an ideal, both in the sense that it is something worth aiming for and in the sense that it is something we are incapable of realizing. It is an ideal that bears an important internal relation to that other great cognitive ideal, Truth. And, I suggest, we might say that rationality in belief consists in being disposed so to react to evidence and reflection that you change your beliefs in ways that make it more likely that they are true. If this is right, then we can see at once why inconsistency in belief is a sign of irrationality: for having a pair of inconsistent beliefs guarantees that you have at least one false belief, as inconsistent beliefs are precisely beliefs that cannot all be true. (Kwame Anthony Appiah, African Studies and the Concept of Knowledge. 34)

Hence, ideally speaking, it would be expected that a rational person would let go of some set of beliefs about albinism no matter how established and consistent as they are in the light of new sets of beliefs that are completely inconsistent with the former but are not only internally consistent but are factually true and can be verified. It would be a sign of irrationality to want to hold two inconsistent sets of beliefs side by side each other; it is, in fact, impossible to do so because one is not consistent with the other. Thus, the rational move would be to let go of the less truthful set of consistent beliefs for the more truthful representation of reality. Therefore, having a consistent set of beliefs as the basis for knowing is not enough. The set of beliefs must also be largely true. In Appiah’s words: . . . consistency, as an ideal, is not enough. For someone could have a perfectly consistent set of beliefs about the world, almost every one of which was not only false but obviously false. It is consistent to hold, with Descartes in one of his sceptical moments, that all my experiences are caused by a wicked demon, and, to dress the fantasy in modern garb, there is no inconsistency in supporting the paranoid fantasy that the world is “really” a cube containing only my brain in a bath, a lot of wires, and a wicked scientist. But, though consistent, this belief is not rational: we are all, I hope, agreed that reacting to sensory

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evidence in this way does not increase the likelihood that your beliefs will be true. (Kwame Anthony Appiah, African Studies and the Concept of Knowledge. 34–35)

Thus, to claim to know specific things about persons with albinism or angular kyphosis, for instance, on the basis of a consistent set of ideas that are obviously false is not a rational move to make and calls such knowledge claims into question because “a person who starts with a consistent set of beliefs can arrive, by way of reasonable principles of evidence, at the most fantastic untruths (Kwame Anthony Appiah, African Studies and the Concept of Knowledge. 35).” The third level of the conceptualization of African theory of knowledge that I wish to focus on is the one that has become popular in existing literature on African epistemology and one that emerges from and is in line with the communalistic, codependency ethos of African societies. In this sense, claiming to know something is claiming to know what others know. Knowledge is shared knowledge. What I know is what we know. As Bert Hamminga puts it, “the African ‘knowing subject’ is not an individual person (Hamminga 2005).” It is the community. When I claim to know X, I am not making a claim to have come to the knowledge of something through some solitary mental exercise; rather I claim to know X because we all know X and share in my knowledge of X. In Hamminga’s words: Since togetherness is the highest value, we want to share our views. All of them. Hence we always agree with everybody. Standing up and saying: “I have a radically different opinion” would not, as it often does in the West, draw attention to what I have to say. Instead, I am likely to be led before my clan leaders before I even had the chance to continue my speech. Among us, you simply never have radically different opinions. That is because, and that is why we are together. Togetherness is our ultimate criterion of any action, the pursuit of knowledge being just one of them. (Bert Hamminga, Epistemology from the African Point of View. 58)

Hence, knowledge claims about ancestors, the maleficent nature of witchcraft, the way to harvest and store crops, the types and functions of different divinities, the right ways to live, and the nature of queer beings are all shared knowledge sustained by communal structures in which the elite class is key and individual members are expected to fit into these structures. Fitting into these structures of shared ontic and shared epistemic ideas, no matter how difficult it may be, is regarded as fundamental for the survival of the indigenous thought system. This is why a radically different view from shared knowledge, for instance, is often not welcomed even when the radically different view is evidently factual. As Hamminga says: The clan or tribe is the knowing subject. All knowledge is power. All power comes from the forces preceding us: our ancestors. These are three maxims that have a status comparable to the law of conservation of energy in western science: if some of your thoughts do not tally with it, that means you have made some error. So even if the tribe changes its mind, as for instance tribes, facing AIDS, nowadays do on sexual relations, this is an accommodation to new circumstances, according to the traditional view agreed upon, yes decreed by the ancestors. (Bert Hamminga, Epistemology from the African Point of View. 59)

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In this level of knowing African traditions, knowledge claims about disability are thus shared. To claim to know something about the being of a disabled person is to make a claim that is shared such that when X say “I know that a person with albinism is so and so,” she is saying in effect that “We know that a person with albinism is so and so.” To make a radically different knowledge claim about disability is thus to make a claim that is controversial and may be denied as knowledge even when such claims are evidently factual. One is not expected to think outside the knowledge box in African traditional communities, and this has in many ways eaten deep into modern African societies. As Hamminga puts it, “if in an African group there are inconsistent proposals, the group as a togetherness is in quite a[n]. . . uncomfortable state of mind. The state has to be resolved quickly. It decreases vitality, it inhibits action (Bert Hamminga, Epistemology from the African Point of View. 60).” But again, that an idea is shared by many does not guarantee that the idea is true or can pass as knowledge. Many times in human history, an idea can be held by many as true and objective knowledge claim without any evidence in support of the claim. It is so much upheld as knowledge that it influences how people act and react to related matters. The invisible agency of the Bermuda Triangle is widely held to the extent that it became known by many as the Devil’s Triangle which does not make the ideas about it as true and factual knowledge claims. The widely held view among European tribes that African tribes and, indeed, non-European tribes are less human and prelogical may have influenced European action and reaction and still continues to do so, but it was far from being what we can today call a true knowledge claim. In the same vein, although the ideas about disability in African communities were shared ideas, they were not necessarily true as it has become obvious today. Hence if a group of persons are content with attributing the status of knowledge to a claim simply because many or all in the group have come to accept it, then they are most likely going to have a bulk of claims that would turn out not to be knowledge claims in the face of counterfactual evidences. Unfortunately, that is what is often obtainable in African indigenous communities, contentment with the intersubjectivity of knowledge claims and this epistemic attitude or practice is essentially sustained by the elite class through an institutionalized elitist virtue epistemology. Elitist virtue epistemology consists mainly of the claim that to know is to partake of the epistemic competence of an elite class in a particular social system, for the elite class is seen as the source of epistemic value and members of the class are thought to possess intellectual and moral competency to sustain accurate knowledge. This sort of epistemology is common in human societies. Religion, for instance, is one of the most booming profitable businesses for the religious elite class today – pastors, reverends, and the like – because members and faithful of religious bodies see their leaders as a virtuous elite class whose knowledge claims are absolute. So when a pastor instruct his members to eat grasses and do strange things, they obey because he is seen as simply instructing them on the basis of revealed knowledge known only to him. The influence of the traditional elite class on knowledge production and sustenance in traditional African societies and even in modern African societies was this strong too. According to Albert Onobhayedo:

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Prior to the advent of Western education, elitism did not derive from literacy [as we now know it]. Yet, it is possible to point to the traditional rulers. . . and their chiefs, the elders. . ., priests, heroes as well as professional craftsmen as the elite of traditional [African] communities. They were the opinion leaders and custodian of the customs and values of the people. They ensured that the younger ones were groomed to be conformists within the traditional settings. They also provided leadership in politics, industry, religion as well as individual and community health management. The ordinary subjects generally obeyed and emulated these supposedly knowledgeable and well-adjusted members of their community. (Onobhayedo 2007)

The traditional elite class can thus simply be referred to as the custodians of the community to whom the young ones and “ordinary people” look up to. They are accorded tremendous authority, respect, and power in traditional African communities, and they occupy a status where their epistemic competence, will, and dictates are not questioned but, instead, are taken as representing the epistemic competence and will of the community of beings, both visible and invisible. An elite is seen as a fully developed moral and knowledgeable person who has important roles in forms of communal and social responsibilities, which include training the young ones both through words – such as through storytelling, adages, and folklores – and action, prodding others, or praising others as the case may be, in order to help them achieve moral and epistemic competence, which is crucial for attaining personhood and possibly elitism. This duty requires the elder to display his wealth of knowledge in his judgment by exhibiting rich and comprehensive sensitivity. An elder by his very action is teaching and morally educating the young ones by modelling his actions for them. This is why he is a mentor and a role model for the people to emulate. Thus, an important part of the process of training is the ability of the younger ones to imitate the actions of the elders (Ikuenobe 2006). This is why before an African traditional community confers a clearly stated elitist position on anyone, he must have fulfilled the roles expected of him by the community and be very conversant with the cultural practices, beliefs, and values of the community for the obvious reason that others will look up to him. For if he is not well informed about these things, he will become someone who misleads the younger ones. It is therefore not strange that the younger generation assimilate the ideas about disability held by the elite class and approach disability in the same way the elders or members of the elite class approach it. If they see disability in other ways different, it would imply that the elite class failed in their responsibility to train them to become epistemically competent in the ways of the people. Hence, the status quo is maintained in a process of learning where the views of those at the top of the hierarchy are infused into those in the lower ranks of the lower hierarchy. This has proven to be an effective means of cognitive development because members of the elite class would not claim that these knowledge claims are their own. But it is always made clear in the learning process that the knowledge being transferred is a community-based knowledge that goes beyond any particular member of the elite class and that all beings in the community, both visible and invisible, have been involved in the knowledge production.

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The Epistemology of Ignorance The history of ideas is replete with theoretical dualities and binary oppositions. Light and darkness, life and death, black (race) and white (race), the subject and the object, the self and the other, the sane and the insane, man and woman, inside and outside, normal and abnormal, and knowledge and ignorance are a few example of the many theoretical dualities that humans have successfully managed to set off against one another such that one is alleged to be a strict theoretical opposite of the other. For instance, in most religious systems, light is sharply separated from and contrasted with darkness. Light and darkness are such binary opposites that the former is said to have nothing to do with the latter. But could the luminary value of light be understood independent from a substantial understanding of darkness? Is the darkness that religious systems abhor not sometimes actively produced for the sake of perfecting the value of the light? To speak in broader terms, can a concept be completely separate from its theoretical opposite, or is it the case that alleged theoretical dualities are in fact always interwoven and do always interact? In this section, I will examine one of such theoretical dualities, knowledge, and ignorance and how they are interconnected. Thus, rather than being binary opposites, they are intertwined and interrelated to the extent that one is an extension of the other and each of them can only be thoroughly understood in the light of its interaction with the other. They are therefore in Derrida’s sense, binary pairs rather than binary opposition; for Derrida argues for good reasons that there are really no binary opposites, only binary pairs (see Derrida 2005). My reason for examining the connection between knowledge and ignorance specifically as developed by the now vibrant discourse of the epistemology of ignorance is because the knowledge claims about disability in general and albinism in particular in African societies seem to me to be largely hinged on an actively produced and sustained ignorance. Two anthologies stand out in the analysis of the epistemology of ignorance in the last decade: Race and Epistemologies of Ignorance (see Sullivan and Nancy 2007) and Agnotology: The Making and Unmaking of Ignorance (see Proctor and Londa 2008). But we must also not forget an important precedence about a decade earlier, Charles W. Mills’ The Racial Contract where, perhaps, the term was first used (Mills 1997, pp. 18, 93, 97, 183). In traditional epistemology, since epistemology has to do with how one knows and ignorance has to do with not knowing, epistemology and ignorance were always in binary opposition. However, in these works, there was a necessary shift from the view of knowledge and ignorance as binary opposites to knowledge and ignorance as binary pair. In the words of the editors of Race and Epistemologies of Ignorance, Shannon Sullivan and Nancy Tuana, the “epistemology of ignorance is an examination of the complex phenomena of ignorance, which has as its aim identifying different forms of ignorance, examining how they are produced and sustained, and what role they play in knowledge practices.” The editors of Agnotology, Robert N. Proctor and Londa Schiebinger, add that the goal of epistemology of ignorance (simply referred to as agnotology) is “to promote the study of ignorance, by developing tools for understanding how and why various forms of knowing have ‘not come to be,’ or disappeared, or have been delayed or

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long neglected, for better or for worse, at various points in history.” S. Dieleman explains that in these anthologies: . . . ignorance itself comes to be understood not just as the dark side of traditional epistemology, but as an integral aspect of knowledge and its study. The study of ignorance serves to reveal the multiple dimensions of power at work in practices of knowing, and can help to clarify the overlap between social and political institutions and structures with such practices. (Dieleman 2012)

The shift from traditional epistemology to the focus on an epistemology of ignorance is important because the traditional approach that sees ignorance as bad epistemic practice is deficient in understanding social and cultural epistemologies because ignorance itself is substantially infused into the structure and belief systems of social and cultural epistemologies. Traditional epistemologies are thus not suited in unveiling and understanding the intricacies of ignorance in traditional systems because it is insufficiently reflexive by failing to pay attention to the structural organization of society and the role of ignorance in such structuring (S. Dieleman, Review Essay. 3). In particular, it fails to pay attention to how ignorance and, in fact, structural, wilful ignorance are key in the representation of difference and the other in human societies. But epistemology of ignorance pays more than the usual attention to these factors in social epistemologies. As Linda Martin Alcoff explains: The idea of an epistemology of ignorance attempts to explain and account for the fact that such substantive practices of ignorance – wilful ignorance, for example, and socially acceptable but faulty justificatory practices – are structural. This is to say that there are identities and social locations and modes of belief formation, all produced by structural social conditions of a variety of sorts, that are in some cases epistemically disadvantaged or defective. (Alcoff 2007)

Alcoff identifies three interrelated types of epistemology of ignorance. In Dieleman’s words: The first is derived from the situatedness of knowers, the second type builds upon the insights of standpoint epistemology, and the third type of epistemology of ignorance is a systemic type, according to which knowing(s) and unknowing(s) serve to differentiate the powerful from the powerless in relation to a specific area of knowledge. Although this third type overlaps with the previous two types of epistemologies of ignorance, in this case it is maintained (either actively or passively, or both in concert) by the structures and institutions of society for a specific reason, which will in turn vary according to the purposes determined by a society and the dominant and subordinate groups that inhabit it. (S. Dieleman, Review Essay. 3)

The third, the analysis of the systemic type of ignorance, is of paramount interest to us in this chapter because it furnishes us with an understanding of the structural ignorance actively infused into the social representation of groups in social systems. It is precisely in this third sense that Charles Mills presents a stunning and compelling argument in his book, The Racial Contract, of how racism is a willfully

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structured and actively perpetuated ignorance by member of European tribes in the social contract or, better put, the racial contract to assert, maintain, and promote white supremacy as against all other races of the world. This deliberate ignorance of the equality of the human race – a deliberate ignorance seen even in the works of very notable philosophers such as Hobbes, Kant, and Hegel (Details of these can be found, for instance, in Hegel 1956; Kant 1960) – is so well structured that till date it is assimilated even unconsciously into the bloodstream of the ordinary “white man” that/he sees people of other races mostly with disdain. In Mills words: . . . in effect. on matters related to race, the Racial Contract prescribes for its signatories an inverted epistemology, an epistemology of ignorance, a particular pattern of localized and global cognitive dysfunction. . ., producing the ironic outcome that whites will generally be unable to understand the world they themselves have made. . . [Whites] thereby emerge as "the lords of human kind," the "lords of all the world" with the increasing power to determine the standing of the non-Europeans who are their subjects. Although no single act literally corresponds to the drawing up and signing of a contract, there is a series of acts – papal bulls and other theological pronouncements, European discussions about colonialism, “discovery” and international law; pacts, treaties, and legal decisions; academic and popular debates about the humanity of non-whites, [etc.]. . . (C. W. Mills, The Racial Contract. 18–20)

Similarly, we cannot therefore ignore the role of wilful, deliberate systemic ignorance in the social representation of difference and by implication people’s attitude toward the other. If there is always an uneasiness about something different and a fear of the other, society is compelled to structure out ways of explaining the difference and dealing with the uneasiness. In most cases, societies and cultures deliberately produce presentations of the other that are defective, oppressive, and far from factual but that are yet represented through time to help the normal deal with the abnormal, the self with the other with much ease, and with reduced moral obligations and responsibilities. Such wilful ignorance are deliberately crafted and preserved to also sustain the gap between the self and the other, to retain the self as lord and the other as subject, and to justify any ill treatment of the other. Interestingly, this systemic representation and wilful ignorance are not presented as some humble perspective from some quarters but as a God’s-eye view, an objectively given idea that is beyond revision. Hence “ignorance is a problem relating not just to justificatory practices but also to ontologies of truth (L. M. Alcoff, Epistemologies of Ignorance. 40).”

Albinism, Bad Epistemic Practice, and the Well-Being of PWAS In many African communities, albinism is socially and culturally represented as an unwelcomed abnormality or difference, much the same way many other forms of disability are negatively designated in African traditions. Within and between cultures in African societies, there are varying descriptions of albinism in persons. However, such varying ideas about albinism all point to the same social and cultural representation of albinism as not only abnormal but repugnant; PWAs are

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represented as abhorring and disgusting within such cultural framework. Their experiences are shaped by averted glances and other types of avoidance that cut off practices of sociability. Pregnant women, for example, are often told to avoid looking at PWAs, lest they pass this quality unto their child (Livingston 2008). Specific negative descriptions and representations of PWAs are thus formulated to institutionalize the abnormal and repugnant nature of albinism. Albinism is not simply a physical other but also an ontological other. As I have explained elsewhere (Imafidon 2017), African scholars pride themselves on the allinclusive nature of African ontology. But as interconnected and interlocked as the African community of beings may be, it still excludes a number of beings or entities. The basic reason for this is to protect the socially approved web of relationships from anything that is different from or may threaten its harmony and equilibrium. For instance, some have wondered what justification may be given for the stigmatization against victims of deadly, contagious, and (previously) incurable diseases in African traditions. This certainly is for obvious reasons. Any human community, African or non-African, no matter how intact and closely knit it may be, would want to protect itself from extinction, which will imply discriminating against and isolating anyone or anything that may threaten its existence (see Aigbodioh 2011). Interestingly, in African traditions, not only persons with deadly, contagious, and (previously) incurable diseases are isolated from the community of beings; even morally bankrupt persons who do not live up to the expectations of the community are isolated to protect the community. This explains the reasons for banishment and ostracism. Beyond physically ill and morally bankrupt persons, African ontology isolates some other beings due to their unusual nature and perceived threat to the community of beings; they are treated as the other, different, unusual, and, hence, excluded from the community of accepted beings. The list varies from one African community to the other. Persons with albinism, twins, triplets, and the like and persons with deformities will make this list although with some variations from community to community (see Munyi 2012; Anoaka 1975). A person with albinism is generally considered as an other, a different, and an unusual entity, not as a human being. The manner in which this is socially represented and perpetuated varies from one region to the other. Tanzania and a large part of East and Central Africa including West Africa, for instance, have become notoriously known for their harmful ideologies about persons with albinism, which justifies the perpetuation of violence and discrimination against such persons. This is hardly the space to give details of such social representation which include the conception of PWAs as ghosts, punishments from supernatural entities on parents, a curse, agents of divinities, nonhuman entities whose body parts are useful in money-making rituals and making of charms, and so on. A simple web search reveals shocking details of such representations. Why do these social and ontological representations of albinism persist in even modern Africa? Primarily, it is because they are deeply entrenched, socially institutionalized ignorance that has become part of the (sub)consciousness of market woman, the barber, the primary school student, and even the educated teacher. How has such ignorance and untruth about albinism become part of the

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consciousness of the majority of black Africans? In the early stages of the development of African communities, building community was paramount and seen as the primary means of communal and individual survival. African elders as the custodian of the customs and traditions of the people were saddled with the crucial responsibility of establishing and sustaining the much needed harmony among beings in African community. Hence, when they noticed anything abnormal or extraordinary, something different from the status quo, out of fear of the abnormal being a threat to the accepted nature of things, theories were formulated about the abnormal, ideas that dichotomized the normal from the abnormal, ensuring the superiority of the former over the latter. Such theories were institutionalized, presented, and represented in various forms from generation to generations until they attained the status of “objective ontologies of truth” spiced with religiously garnished ideologies. These constructed ideas and representations were mostly far from factual. They were falsehood deduced from ignorance but nonetheless institutionalized and entrenched into the sociocultural system because they were goal-directed: to protect the status quo and overcome the fear of the other. Hence such social representations are not different from the racial contract drawn by European tribes against nonEuropean races. It is a contract drawn by the normal against the abnormal, the self against the other. It stems from a wilful ignorance produced and sustained to attain certain goals. This actively and deliberately produced ignorance may not be factual, true, or justifiable, but they are systemic and structural, deeply entrenched, and having real consequences for real people. As we have seen, the consequences of deeply entrenched social representations of PWAs as an other are not funny. It is no news that PWAs in Africa generally face unfair and unjust treatment. Due to the harmful ideas about them in the consciousness of Africans, they face stigmatization, social exclusion, maltreatment, dismembering, and even murder. They are hunted for their body parts; they lack access to basic things in life such as education, marriage, employment, good health care, and cordial familial relationships. Until such social representations are overturned, PWAs are likely to continue to experience such injustice, partiality, and unfairness. Deliberately produced ignorance will remain deeply entrenched in the representations of groups in societies so long as persons within such community of selves continue to display the bad epistemic practice of unconsciously participating in an uncritical, uninformed, nescient assimilation of the received body of beliefs from the elite class passed down from generation to generation within such particular worlds and body of beliefs that are deliberately coated with untruth. Persons within such societies are content with the elite class thinking for them and presenting them with the needed explanations of things and events. This in itself is not bad; societies have the obligation to do this. However, in many cases, persons within such societies become rationally docile and lazy. They do not make any deliberate efforts to rationally evaluate and validate the received view. Such societies in turn by means of an elite class take an authoritarian stance on matters even when such stance is questionable. An aspect of Immanuel Kant epistemology may be useful in finding solutions to such bad epistemic practice. Kant describes this docile-authoritarian relationship between the many and the elite who taking the lead in a community succinctly:

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Laziness and cowardice are the reasons why so great a proportion of men, long after nature has released them from alien guidance (natura-liter maiorennes), nonetheless gladly remain in lifelong immaturity, and why it is so easy for others to establish themselves as their guardians. It is so easy to be immature. If I have a book to serve as my understanding, a pastor to serve as my conscience, a physician to determine my diet for me, and so on, I need not exert myself at all. I need not think, if only I can pay: others will readily undertake the irksome work for me. (Kant 1874)

African traditions generally exhibit this sort of docile-authoritarian relationship between the person and the community. Hence it has been described, and I believe quite rightly, as an authoritarian tradition. Kwasi Wiredu aptly explains why such a description is fitting for African traditions: Any human arrangement is authoritarian if it entails any person being made to do or suffer something against his will, or if it leads to any person being hindered in the development of his own will. This definition is likely to be felt to be too broad. It might be objected that no orderly society is possible without some sort of constituted authority which can override a refractory individual will. Anybody wishing to elaborate on this kind of objection has a rich tradition of both Western and non-Western philosophical thought to draw upon. Let me here cut the matter short by making a concession. We might now say that what is authoritarian, is the unjustified overriding of an individual’s will. . . a society would be seen to be revoltingly authoritarian in as much as a person’s will would usually be the result of the manipulations by others. (Wiredu 1984)

In such societies with the docile-authoritarian relationship, it is difficult to subject social representations to critical evaluation and rational validation, and hence, the deeply entrenched ignorance goes unchecked and unquestioned. Hence even when such deeply entrenched ignorance promotes harmful ideologies about a certain social group that inhibits justice and fairness to such group as we see, for instance, in the case of albinism in African traditions, such excesses go unchecked. It becomes essential for persons within such societies to overcome their docility, laziness, and immaturity and develop the courage to effectively use their reason to subject all received views to rational validation. This is the motto of the enlightenment spirit. In Kant’s words: Enlightenment is man’s emergence from his self-imposed immaturity. Immaturity is the inability to use one’s understanding without guidance from another. This immaturity is selfimposed when its cause lies not in lack of understanding, but in lack of resolve and courage to use it without guidance from another. Sapere Aude! [dare to know] “Have courage to use your own understanding!” — that is the motto of enlightenment. (Immanuel Kant Thesis chapter 3 ref. 3)

Enlightenment has thus been the quest for emancipation and liberation of mankind from the authoritarian, rigid, fixed, and static social, economic, and religious structures through the rational critique of power. It seeks for individual’s freedom from rationally indefensible ideologies and mythologies created from ignorance but yet institutionalized. Its legacy has been the “notion of critical reason (Nicholsen 1992),” and it is intrinsically intertwined with the “critique of foundationalism”

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(S.W. Nicholsen, Enlightenment on Enlightenment. 155) with the aim of producing a normative though fallibilistic perspective of reality. Reason rather than social representations is thus elevated as the medium of truth and freedom: (Guss 1991) “reason, not prescription; persuasion, not threat (D. L. Guss, Enlightenment as Process. 1155).” Or, as John Milton says, “willingness and reason, not force (Milton 1953).” Horkheimer and Adorno therefore say aptly that “Enlightenment, understood in the widest sense as the advance of thought, has always aimed at liberating human beings from fear and installing them as masters. . . Enlightenment’s program was the disenchantment of the world. It wanted to dispel myths, to overthrow fantasy [and ignorance] with knowledge (Horkheimer and Adorno 2002).” An overcoming of superstitious traditions and ideology and the emancipation of the individual – the aim of enlightenment – lead to a less authoritarian society and reduce the docility in men, for the pre-Enlightenment age is heavily characterized by docility and authoritarianism. As Kant says, “The guardians who have so benevolently taken over the supervision of men have carefully seen to it that the far greatest part of them. . . regard taking the step to maturity as very dangerous, not to mention difficult (I. Kant. An Answer to the Question: What is Enlightenment? 1–2).” It is only under this circumstance where authoritative social representations of PWAs are subjected to deliberate and conscious rational validation by persons that justice for, fair treatment of, and the well-being of PWAs can be pursued and attained. This is because the deeply entrenched harmful ideas about PWAs as an other naturally fail to survive a rational validation process, and by implication, the systemic ignorance is gradually replaced with factual knowledge about the other such as the biological basis of the difference of PWAs. Hence, the enthronement of reason as the arbiter of knowledge is the only way the inhibitions to justice for PWAs can be lifted.

Conclusion The epistemological issues that arise from the African conception of the difference of disabled persons in general and albinism in particular – the place of an elitist virtue epistemology and ignorance in the epistemic system of African thought and why the sole reliance on these constitute a bad epistemic practice that stifles the epistemic duties of the knowing subject – are only a few of the issues that evolve from the epistemic practice toward the albinotic other in African spaces. Other issues such as an examination of the process of knowing, the question of justification, and the reliability of knowledge claims are yet to be properly dealt with and do not form part of the focal points of this chapter. What we can deduce from the discourse thus far is that the deliberately structured systemic ignorance and elitist virtue epistemology inherent in the social representations of PWAs in African communities remain the primary causes of the harm and injustice done to such persons on the African continent. Only through a deliberate effort by persons within such communities not merely to assimilate and live by the received view of things from the elite class

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but to subject such views and ideas to rational deliberation and validation can such harmful ideas about PWAs be jettisoned and justice and well-being achieved. The general conclusion to draw from these analyses is that most of the frictions between the self and the other in different societies of the world stem more from unquestioned social representations of the other garnished with well-structured ignorance and authority than from deliberate, factual, and rationally developed ideas about the other. We all need to consistently take a leap from the former to the latter in dealing with the other.

References Aigbodioh, J.A. 2011. Stigmatisation in African communalistic societies and Habermas’ theory of rationality. Cultura: International Journal of the Philosophy of Culture and Axiology 8 (1): 27–48. Alcoff, L.M. 2007. Epistemologies of ignorance: Three types. In Race and epistemologies of ignorance, ed. S. Sullivan and T. Nancy, 40–41. Albany: State University of New York Press. Anoaka, J.B. 1975. Division of rehabilitation status report. Ghana: Ministry of Labour, Social Welfare and Community. Appiah, K. A. 2005. African Studies and the Concept of Knowledge. In Bert Hamminga Ed., Knowledge Cultures: Comparative Western and African Epistemology (Amsterdam: Rodopi). Derrida, J. 2005. Writing and difference. London: Routledge. Dieleman, S. 2012. Review essay of ‘Agnotology: The making and unmaking of ignorance.’ Robert Proctor and Londa Schiebinger (editors) and ‘Race and epistemologies of ignorance.’ Shannon Sullivan and Nancy Tuana (editors). The social epistemology review and reply collective. https://socialepistemologydotcom.files.wordpress.com/2012/01/susan-dieleman-review-essay-onignorance.pdf. 1. Guss, D.L. 1991. Enlightenment as process: Milton and Habermas. Proceedings of the Modern Language Association 106 (5): 1156. Hallen, Barry. 2004. Yoruba moral epistemology. In A companion to African philosophy, ed. Kwasi Wiredu, 298. Malden: Blackwell Publishing. Hamminga, Bert. 2005. Epistemology from the African point of view. In Knowledge cultures: Comparative Western and African epistemology, ed. Bert Hamminga. Amsterdam: Rodopi. 57. Hegel, G.W.F. 1956. The philosophy of history. Trans. J.H. Clarke. New York: Dover. Horkheimer, M., and T.W. Adorno. 2002. Dialectic of enlightenment. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1. Hospers, John. 1973. An introduction to philosophical analysis. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Ikuenobe, Polycarp. 2006. Philosophical perspective on communalism and morality in African traditions. Lanham: Lexington Books. 136. Elvis Imafidon. 2017. Dealing with the other between the ethical and the moral: Albinism on the African Continent. Theoretical Medicine and Bioethics: Philosophy of Medical Research and Practice 1–17. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11017-017-9403-2. Online first. Kant, I. 1874. An answer to the question: What is enlightenment? Konigsberg. http://www.english. upenn.edu/~mgamer/Etexts/kant.html. 1. Immanuel Kant. 1960. Observation of the beautiful and the sublime. Trans. J.T. Goldthwait. Berkeley: University of California Press. Livingston, J. 2008. Disgust, bodily aesthetics and the ethics of being human in Botswana. Africa: Journal of the International African Institute 78 (2): 299. Mills, C.W. 1997. The racial contract. Ithaca: Cornell University Press.

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Milton, J. 1953–1980. In Complete prose works, ed. D.M. Wolfe, et al. 8 Vols. New Haven: Yale University Press. Vol. 1: 746 & Vol. 7: 359. Munyi, C.W. 2012. Past and present perceptions toward disability: A historical perspective. Disability Studies Quarterly 32 (2). https://doi.org/10.18061/dsq.v32i2.3197. Nicholsen, S.W. 1992. Enlightenment on enlightenment: Review of Richard Wolin’s The terms of cultural criticism: The Frankfurt School, Existentialism, Poststructuralism (New York: Columbia University Press). New German Critique 63 (1994): 155. Onobhayedo, Albert. 2007. Western education and social change in Esan land. IRORO: A Journal of Arts 7 (1 & 2): 270–271. Proctor, R.N., and S. Londa, eds. 2008. Agnotology: The making and unmaking of ignorance. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Sullivan, S., and T. Nancy, eds. 2007. Race and epistemologies of ignorance. Albany: State University of New York Press. Wiredu, K. 1984. Philosophy and an African culture. Vol. 2. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

The Othering of Persons with Severe Cognitive Disabilities in Alexis Kagame’s Conceptualization of Personhood

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Contents Kagame’s Conceptualization of Personhood . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ableism as “UnAfrican”? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Some Views of Disability in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A Theory Is Just a Theory . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . But Theories Are Not Just Theories . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . What’s Intersectionality Got To Do with Conceptions of Personhood? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion: Toward an Inclusive Account of Personhood . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Alexis Kagame’s “shadow thesis” is one of the most prominent theories of personhood in African Philosophy. Kagame offers us insight into what makes a person a person. Pinnacle to Kagame’s thesis is the idea that to be considered a person, one must have “intelligence” and the ability to put reason to good use. In this chapter, I argue that Kagame’s minimalist requirement for personhood is ableist in so far as it presents itself as exclusionary to people living with severe cognitive disabilities from the status of personhood. I contend that the justification for the ill-treatment of people with disabilities is premised on the notion that they are excluded from the category of personhood as identified in any theory of personhood that wants to make rationality a minimal requirement for personhood. The conclusions reached in the chapter gesture toward the view that any theory of personhood that exemplifies itself as ableist should be rejected for further philosophical study and consideration.

N. Z. Manzini (*) Department of Philosophy, Pennsylvania State University, State College, PA, USA e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_19

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Keywords

Personhood · Shadow Thesis · Alexis Kagame · Severe cognitive disabilities when aunty so-and-so runs wild at the cemetery do not say your aunty is a madhouse (Putuma 2017: 69)

African philosophy as a branch of philosophy has yet to write about those who are not regarded as able-bodied or those who do not conform to able-bodiedness. Considered from other perspective, African philosophy has been much resource for understanding African ontology, but the categorizations that were used by scholars like Father Placide Tempels (1959), Alexis Kagame (1989), and Ifeanyi Menkiti (1984) have not been thoroughly engaged with. Loosely speaking there has been a clear articulation of what it means to be a person, yet the very distinctions that have been used present themselves as ableist. One wonders why scholars of African philosophy have not interrogated these distinctions. I begin this chapter by critically examining Kagame’s theorization of personhood and indicate the ways in which his conceptualization of personhood would deny those with severe cognitive disabilities of personhood. (This chapter originally appears in my master’s dissertation entitled “African conceptions of personhood as gendered, ableist and anti-queer” (Manzini 2017). My critique is opened up to Tempels (1959) force thesis and Menkiti’s (1984) normative communitarian conception of personhood.) The chapter then considers the argument that ableism is not African. Toward that end, I am especially interested in the claims that theories like Kagame’s do not inform the ableist behavior/killings that occur, respectively, in our communities, with the Life Esidimeni tragedy being an example. By the end of the chapter, I defend the view that exclusionary theories like the one examined here have little place in building an African philosophical discourse that ensures that people with disabilities (and other identities say queer) are heard and as a result should be discarded. (I use the neutral term “people,” who I am arguing should be considered “persons.” I think that Kagame would find the phrase “persons with a disability” incomprehensible – for him, it would be an entity with a disability. Using the phrase “persons” here and elsewhere would be begging the question.)

Kagame’s Conceptualization of Personhood Alexis Kagame’s theorization of personhood comes from a place where he wants to understand what muntu is. Kagame notes that “MU = Muntu = a man” indicating the singular is the root element of the “BA = Bantu = men” which is the plural of muntu (1989: 35). In attempting to articulate a conception of personhood, Kagame’s paper is split into four sections: The first section details the nature of muntu, i.e., what muntu is. Kagame contends that a man is muntu, by which I understand

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him to be referring to a human being. Kagame is not clear if muntu refers to a person or a human being; my reading of his theory is that muntu refers to a human being. Later he states the point in which man becomes a man “i.e., compete in his nature” (ibid.: 36). By this, he means to say the point in which muntu can be referred to as a person, i.e., the point where one would gain personhood. To ensure that these two distinctions are clear; lowercase m, muntu, refers to a human being which has the vital principle of animality and intelligence. Capital M, Muntu, refers to a person; this is a human being who “puts reason to good use” (ibid.: 37). (see Diagram A; making such a distinction makes his argument easier to follow.) The second section regards death. Here Kagame argues that death extinguishes the two vital principles of Muntu (intelligence and shadow). In the third section, he explores what Muntu’s ultimate end is and lastly the relationship that Muntu has with her community. It should be noted that Kagame does not dub his theory as the shadow thesis; rather this term comes out of Kaphagawani’s (2004: 339) interpretation of Kagame’s paper. The fourth section of Kaame’s paper can be read as an attempt to underscore the communal link that Muntu has with the Bantu (this communal link later becomes important when discussing disabilities). As stated by Kagame, Muntu is “an integral part of a family group which is composed of its living and deceased members” (1989: 39). That is, Muntu does not exist as a lone individual; rather in all her existence, she is tied to her family. Considering the aims of this project, I focus on the first and third section of Kagame’s paper. As stated earlier when Kagame explains what the elements of muntu are, I interpret this question as: “what is a human being.” According to Kagame muntu is “animated by a double vital principle: the shadow which he shares with the animal and the vital principle of intelligence” (later Kagame makes mention of the heart) (ibid.: 35). Shadow, which is the first principle, refers to the vital principle of animality; by this he means that muntu is partly animal and human. The second principle, according to Kagame anchors the difference between muntu and other animals; this is the existence of intelligence (which is immortal) and the heart. The existence of the shadow is what muntu has in common with an animal; Kagame states that “two senses of sight and hearing are founded in the shadow principle of animality” (ibid.: 36). What I interpret this to mean is that both muntu and animal have the sense of hearing and sight which allows them to engage with their environment as physical bodies. The difference here is that muntu possesses two internal faculties: intelligence and the heart. Kagame states that these internal faculties are not possessed by animals. He writes: “By his intelligence, man accomplishes the three operations impossible to the animal: (a) to reflect upon the data of his senses; (b) to compare the facts of knowledge he has acquired; (c) to invent something new by combining previously acquired knowledge. The heart integrates all that the interior man is, it harmonises the operations and acquisitions of intelligence, by adding to them the acts which other cultures attribute to the will” (ibid.).

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According to Kagame the heart refers to muntu’s unique personality, i.e., memory, thought, spirit, sensation, conscience, etc. (ibid.), which makes her different from the next muntu. Kagame further adds that the “heart integrates all that the interior man is and harmonises his total behaviour” (ibid.). Regarding the principle of intelligence, Kagame does not explain further what the three operations mean or why they are important. After outlining what the nature of man is, Kagame articulates the point in which muntu becomes Muntu, and he notes that there are three divergent views. The first is that Muntu is complete as soon there is an umbilical cord between mother and child. The second is that Muntu is complete only once they have been named. The last view, which he seems to be in agreement with, is that Muntu is complete as soon as they put reason to good use. That is when one says x is a Muntu, according to Kagame this refers to a muntu who has the two vital shadows and puts reason to good use. That is, it would not be enough for one to reflect, compare, and invent. Rather, Kagame requires that Muntu must use her intelligence to good use (Kagame does not provide an explanation of what this may look like). animal animality: shadow

muntu

animality: shadow Intelligence and heart animality: shadow

Muntu

Intelligence and heart Putting reason to good use

Diagram A

One can argue that Kagame’s category of reason and intelligence stems from Western Philosophy. The influence of Descartes’ dualism seems very visible. In the second meditation, the meditator reflects and meditates on the data of one’s senses. From there on the mediator concludes that she is a thinking thing; therefore she must exist. In the words of the meditator: “I think, therefore I am” (Descartes 1996: 18). Furthermore, one can regard Kagame’s view as being closer to Kant’s (see Kant (1785, 1781) and Korsgaard (1996)) ethics in which the source of moral value and agency lies in rationality. My interpretation of Kagame’s shadow thesis is that it is a conception of personhood that seeks to conceive of persons as having a mind (with the capacity of intelligence and putting reason to good use) and the body (that is the shadow). Remaining within the scope of this chapter, I limit my focus on intelligence and the capacity to put reason to good use. I take “intelligence” to refer to one’s mental capabilities. The Online Oxford Dictionary defines intelligence as the “ability to acquire and apply knowledge and skills.” (http://www.oxforddictionaries.com/defi nition/english/intelligence) Intelligence is a cognitive trait that would differentiate persons from nonpersons. My reading of Kagame’s theory is that the ability to “put

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reason to good use” would refer to an individual’s actions that do not bring harm to their immediate community; Kagame asserts that an individual is “an integral part of a family which is composed of its living and deceased members” (1989: 39). From this reading one could infer that any individual that does not put their reason to good use would either be denied personhood or simply be regarded as a bad person. I am inclined to support the latter view, that is, the inability to make good decisions would merely mean that one is a bad person – arguably this is different from an individual who say is born without intelligence – such an individual who is devoid of intelligence would be regarded as a mere entity. It is clear how the argument that the shadow thesis is ableist would be formulated. One can note that the shadow thesis would not only deny people with severe cognitive disabilities (henceforth SCD) personhood, but they would also be denied the status of human being. (I limit my analysis to SCD like Down syndrome, autism, and traumatic brain injury (TBI); an argument can be made that it would also exclude persons who have physical impairments whether they are born with them or because of an illness. Focusing on physical disabilities would be based on an assertion.) I reject the given capacity of intelligence and reason sketched by Kagame and contend that it is ableist. I have highlighted the important features that are both necessary and sufficient for one to be considered a person. According to which intelligence is a necessary condition for personhood, a condition which I believe would exclude people with SCD, whom are believed to be without intelligence. Put this way SCD people will be excluded from the category of muntu and Muntu. Using the social model of disability, a disability exists only when it is constructed socially and constructed in how it arises in a certain situation (Llewellyn and Hogan 2008: 320). That is, disabilities result in the way that a society is organized, rather than a person’s impairment. Harris C. James further states that while disabilities may be medical, they are also environmental. Importantly he adds that “the appreciation of the personhood of each individual recognises that” (2010: 57). For instance, suppose there is individual x in this community born with Down syndrome. Down syndrome defined as “a chromosomal disorder caused by an error in cell division that results in an extra 21st chromosome” which results [in] cognitive and physical disability (Crosta 2016). Typically, individuals with Down syndrome would not have the capacity to “reflect, compare, invent, or put reason to good use.” Since intelligence and reason are the two necessary conditions (intelligence and reason, heart + shadow would be necessary and sufficient) for one to be considered a Muntu – this would exclude SCD individuals from gaining personhood. The question that could be posed for Kagame is: “what happens to an individual with down syndrome or any other cognitive disability? Are they still considered a person?” I assume that Kagame would admit that individual x would not be regarded as a person if they lack intelligence and reason. That they would be referred to as ibintu (meaning things in Kinyarwanda), these are beings who are without intelligence (Hountondji 1983: 40). It is for these reasons that one cannot accept the shadow thesis’s definition of personhood, for it would exclude people with SCD.

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Ableism as “UnAfrican”? One could argue, as inspired by Chris Bell’s (2006) critique, that disability studies have focused on only white people with disabilities. Bell argues that researchers of disability studies have failed to include scholars like W. E. B Du Bois (1996), Alice Walker (1983), and Ginu Kamani (1995) who have all written about disability, respectively. Bell’s views allude to a philosophical puzzle, that is, if (as constructionists think) our views about the world are mediated by the conceptual frameworks, we adopt (possibly those imposed on us by our social context), and then there might be something to the view that the concept of disability is “Western.” Such thoughts would have rightly led some scholars to think that disability studies are a study about white disabilities. I believe that such views nullify disabilities, like the argument that gender is a Western concept. Views like these fail to consider the lived experience of people with disabilities. Such thoughts and views are reductionist and should not be maintained. It goes without saying that claims regarding the ableist nature of theories of personhood are not particular to African philosophy only. This sort of criticism has also been raised against Harry Frankfurt (1971), John Locke (1975), and Gerald Dworkin (1988) (philosophers that define personhood according to the “rational capacity of an individual”). Any theory of personhood that wants to make “rationality” a necessary condition for personhood faces the same problems. Be that as it may, the matters faced by Western philosophers/philosophies are outside the scope of this chapter. Primarily because I think that their conception of personhood is individualistic and not communitarian like the shadow thesis presents itself to be to a certain extent. (This may be construed as an overly homogenizing claim. Overly homogenizing because not all western conceptions of the person are obviously individualistic (I am thinking primarily of feminist accounts of the relational self here). However, at a token level, the different schools of thought have come to be seen this way.) The underlying critique here is toward philosophical realism; realists place rationality at the core of their theory which excludes people with disabilities, more specifically people with SCD. When sketching the shadow thesis, I argued that SCD people would be denied both the status of muntu and Muntu (see Diagram A). Here I equated intelligence with rationality stating that this principle would exclude SCD people. The critique that the conceptions of persons are ableist stems from the idea that these theories have normalized able-bodies at the core of what counts as persons. Tobin Siebers defines this frame of thinking as “the ideology of ability” (2008: 8), which refers to the preference for “able-bodiedness.” He further states that the ideology of ability defines the “baseline by which humanness is determined, setting the measure of body and mind that gives or denies human status to individual persons” (ibid.). In light of these considerations, the purpose of this section is to ascertain the merits of rejecting the studied conception of personhood. This section does not seek to provide an anthropological descriptive view of disability, but a plausible philosophical argument on how the studied conception of personhood others those who are without “intelligence or the ability to put reason to good use” and the

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implications thereof. My aims going forth are to expose the various ways in which the shadow thesis exemplifies itself as ableist and thereafter respond to the claim that ableism is “unAfrican.” Additionally, I indicate the various ways in which ableism has played itself out in African communities, seen in proverbs and folk laws. I contend that the justification for the ill-treatment of people with disabilities is premised on the notion that they are excluded from the category of personhood as identified earlier. I have a lot to say about the empirical implications of this exclusiveness. I reject any claims that may be made by reductionist scholars who argue that ableism is a Western concept. Just as personhood is a relational concept, constructs of gender, sexuality, and disability are premised on power. As Crenshaw (cited in Erevelles and Minear 2014: 356) explains: To say that a category such as race and gender is socially constructed is not to say that the category has no significance in our world. On the contrary, a large and continuing project for subordinated people. . .is thinking about the way in which power is clustered around certain categories and is exercised against others.

Some Views of Disability in Africa Chomba Wa Munyi states that communities have had various reasons for ill-treating people with disabilities; one of those reasons was that such individuals were an economic liability. He further contends that in other cultures “they were given respected status” (2012). For instance, in the Chagga community in East Africa, people with physical disabilities were regarded as the “pacifiers of evil spirits.” In Dahomey, in West Africa, now known as Benin, “constables were selected from those with obvious physical handicaps.” Furthermore, children with anomalies were regarded as being protected by a supernatural force (ibid.). In Ghana, SCD people were believed to be a reincarnation of a deity. In contrast, Munyi states that among the Ashanti of central Ghana, men who had any physical disability were not allowed to become chiefs. Moreover, those children born with more than five fingers, on one hand, were killed from birth. Research indicates that children with albinism have been killed in large parts of Southern Africa for their body parts, as there is the belief that they “have magical powers and bring good luck” (Surendran 2016). Of interest to my investigation are the views that those born with any disability whether they are outcast or not are believed to either possess some form of evil or good fortune. It seems clear that such views are ableist as they are premised on the idea that any individual who is not born “normal” must have something special about them, and therefore they must be treated differently from an “abled” person. (But I wonder whether ableist would be the right label for someone who affirmed the disability. I am thinking if feminist movements that have reclaimed certain labels and stereotypes and have affirmed the value judgements attached to them, would we similarly call these movements sexist?) The problem is that such thoughts use disability as a metaphor for something else (this is often heard in African proverbs, like this one – which is negative: “Wahleka sichwala nawe uyawuchwala ngemuso, or, should you laugh at a disabled [individual], you will also be disabled

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in future” (Ndlovu 2016: 36)) . This assumes that there is something wrong with having a disability in any form. The Songye proverb, “Ha mulemane utwela, kibi e kubuwa kingo (When the disabled [individual] enters, the door is completely shut”), meaning that an individual with a disability is believed to have some wisdom, and for this wisdom to be shared, the door should be shut (Devlieger 2010: 443). This kind of proverb, although it affirms disability in a positive manner, is problematic. The problem is that it does not recognize the individual as a person, rather treats them in a certain way because of their disability. Hebron L. Ndlovu argues that such proverbs indicate that people with disabilities in African communities are not defined by their “physical, mental, or psychological qualities,” instead by the interpersonal relationships that they have with other members of their communities (2016: 36). I disagree with Ndlovu’s interpretation of the proverb; what this proverb indicates is the manner in which people with disabilities are reduced to their disability, one of which according to the proverb “one must not ridicule in case it may revert to you.” Fundamentally these views essentalize/pathologize people with disabilities. It removes the focus from the individual to their disability, to what their disability could potentially do/mean for the community – “disability becomes the essential aspect of their identities, at least in the eyes of observers, so that their personalities, abilities, interests and other personal qualities are subordinated by a condition that is perceived to be a dominant trait” (Dunn and Andrews 2015: 259). Fundamentally these proverbs deny people with disabilities personhood and view them as a monolithic group. Further to that, they do not recognize that disability is both visible (e.g., cognitive disabilities) and invisible (e.g., infertility). (The scope of this chapter was limited to cognitive disabilities; however, this does not mean that Kagame’s shadow thesis would not regard infertility as a disability. In fact, he states that the ultimate “purpose of man is procreation” (1989: 39). Elsewhere, I argue that theories that make “procreation” a condition of person are equally as ableist (Manzini 2017).) So even if some communities may affirm the positive view of disability, such a view remains ableist. In citing Lippman (1972: 89 cited in Munyi (2012), Munyi states that in most societies, people with disabilities are categorized as “deviants rather than inmates by the society” (2012). Munyi makes the disclaimer that such views in Africa were largely held because of ignorance, superstition, or fear. Yet, if we are serious in our philosophical work, we must ask what grounds such ignorance, superstition, or fear? It may be sufficient to accept that misconceptions regarding disabilities are universal and that they have been institutionalized over the years, and therefore there aren’t sufficient grounds to place the burden on African conceptions of persons to be progressive. Notably, even in Western thought, disability studies are a recent area of focus. As compelling as it is to accept such a claim, I don’t believe that just because the misconception regarding disability is universal, then certain disciplines are “saved” from engaging with disability. I suspect that the objection that the shadow thesis is ableist could be put as follows: that communitarian theories of persons do not justify the ill-treatment of individuals living with disabilities. Said differently, the theory merely articulates that

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such individuals do not meet the necessary and sufficient conditions for personhood. Perhaps the communitarian may add that he is not concerned about how communities treat such individuals, as such a concern falls in the realm of communitarianism as a theory. The communitarian may further respond by saying that traces of such views can be traced back to the Greeks and the early Christian Doctrine, in which through imperialism and colonization, these views have found themselves in Africa. Therefore, ableist views are not African.

A Theory Is Just a Theory A critic may argue that the abovementioned argument is merely my own insertion of Kagame’s thesis. That is, they would argue that a theory is just a theory. Insofar as the given conceptions of personhood do not prescribe how individuals who fail at personhood or attain personhood should be treated. These theories merely articulate a conception of personhood. These scholars could bite the bullet and accept that their theories are exclusive to people with disabilities, yet their exclusion of such people makes no grounds for such a heavy projection. I assume that the critic may further say that I am conflating communitarianism as an ethic and communitarian conceptions of persons. Where the former prescribes how persons and nonpersons should be treated in a particular communal context and the latter just merely gives an account of personhood. And so, his final remarks would be that my critiques are directed in the wrong place, that this is a fight that I should be having with the communitarian theorist.

But Theories Are Not Just Theories I think that there are problems with the argument presented by the communitarian that articulates the idea that his theory does not give grounds for societies to discriminate against people with disabilities. One will recall that this chapter approached disability through the lens of the social model of disability, which views disability as “the consequence of social prejudice and a failure of social responsiveness to requirements of variant abilities and bodily demands” (Kittay 2005: 98). Such social prejudice is arguably informed by the notion of who counts as a person and who does not. If a concept/theory of persons in its theorization privileges the existence of certain capabilities over others, it assumes that those with the privileged capacities are more important. In a recent chapter (Manzini 2018), I articulate the difference between communitarianism as a theory and communitarian conceptions of persons, one closer reflection I think that there is no difference between the two. Instead, the latter can be regarded as a framework that enables the “realisation of the potentials, goals and hopes of the individual members” (Gyekye 1992: 101) of such communities. This view point is echoed by Gyekye who articulates that “[t]he type of social structure or arrangement evolved by a

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particular society seems to reflect—and be influenced by—the public conception of personhood held in a society” (ibid.). And so, the communitarian ought to be concerned about those whom it excludes from its theory of personhood. Failing to do so would be an ethically irresponsible act that does not see the danger it places on the individual’s lives that are removed from the category of persons. The critic may argue that this argument is unconvincing, insofar as children are not considered as persons, yet societies do not treat them as inferior or ill-treat them. Ikuenobe states that this is because “children have unique moral status and are owed moral obligation and consideration because they display [the] potential of acquiring personhood” (2006: 61). While this criticism may seem true, such a view assumes that all children are treated equally, and I do not think that this is the case. I believe that the potential for personhood is only open for children who would be able to participate in the given rites of passage (i.e., cisgender and able-bodied children). Children who are intersex or have a disability would arguably not be treated in the same manner as cisgender and able-bodied children. Because of their ambiguous gender or disability, the potential for acquiring personhood is already closed off from this individual from an early age. Mojdeh Bayat’s recent findings on understanding disabilities in Cote d’Ivoire echo my sentiments and state that “children with disabilities are not treated with any noticeable degree of human dignity or respect” (2015: 8). The point is that if a theory is discriminatory, then the practice will equally do the same. Kittay informs us that such views are philosophically problematic and posit a potential danger to vulnerable people (2009: 607). This is made evident in how people with disabilities have been ill-treated and are still ill-treated. To drive the point further, one can remind the reader of the “Life Esidimeni” incident (While media (https:// www.enca.com/coverage/esidimeni-a-tragedy-unfolds) and the government has referred to this as a “tragedy,” I beg to differ. This incident is no tragedy instead it reveals to us how othering our societies are – it was only once lives were lost as a result of the relocations that the matter became public concern. One indeed wonders if lives were not lost if there would have been public outcry.), where 94% of people living with mental disabilities passed on after the Gauteng Health Department moved them from facilities that were trained to deal with the disabilities to non-governmental organizations that are not adequately trained to deal with the patients. It is for the abovementioned reasons that I maintain that theories cannot be read as just theories. If “persons are the sort of entities that are owed the duties of justice” as inferred by Menkiti (1984: 177), then one ought to be concerned about the practical implications of such a statement. Such a statement implies that it is only persons who can be treated justly; any individual that falls outside of the definition of persons is not owed the duties of justice. In his theorization of personhood, Menkiti makes it clear that the extension of moral language or duties of justice is only bound to persons. He argues that the extension of these duties to entities that are not persons would “undermine, sooner, or later, the clearness of our conception of what it means to be a person. The practical consequences are also something for us to worry about” (ibid.). And so, any theory that makes the distinction between persons and nonpersons, such a theory can be held responsible for any practical implications that results from it.

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What’s Intersectionality Got To Do with Conceptions of Personhood? In responding to the claim that ableism is unAfrican, I contend that the issue of disability within Africa should be understood through an intersectional lens. That is, disability in Africa and the theorization and problematizing of able-bodies cannot be done outside of understanding the effects of colonialism. The task of the colonial project was to deny Black people the status of personhood. Claims were made that Black people were primitive beings who had no capacity to think for themselves, i.e., without rationality. Josh Lukin states that the implication was that “blackness was a similar mental deficiency” (2014: 312); Mogobe B. Ramose further reminds us that categorizing Black people as without reason or rationality was also the project of Christianization, which was founded in scientific racism (2003: 3). Hence it was justifiable to use Africans as slaves. That is, the categorization of who counts as abled and disabled has been used to assert power on certain individuals. Black people, Jews, and women have been historically denied the status of personhood, not because they do not have rationality. Instead, it was driven by power. The point being made here is that anyone can be regarded as disabled at any time, as Sieber puts it, disability “potentially includes anyone at any time” (2008: 71). Black people were regarded as disabled; the same could be said for Jews and Women. Intersectional theory reminds us that “structures of oppression are related” (Carbado et al. 2013: 306), that is, we need to move away from a singular racialized interpretation of disability. Rosemarie Garland-Thomson reminds us that exclusionary theories and practices “are legitimated by systems of representation, by collective cultural stories that shape the material world, underwrite exclusionary attitudes, inform human relations, and mould our senses of who we are. Understanding how disability functions along with other systems of representation clarifies how all the systems intersect and mutually constitute one another.” (2002: 10). It is important for any African conception of persons to be inclusive. I further take it that the conversations around ableism should not be read in isolation from gender and queer theory, primarily because these issues concern minority identities. They are all interlocking themes that affect one’s personhood and more generally fall into the debates had in moral philosophy. Most importantly, what can be taken away from this section is that if one has some form of disability, or is queer, intersexual, or a female, we note that the primary themes of inclusivity highlighted in this project become vivid. Put more simply, one who is living with a disability is an intersex and queer may be disqualified from considerations of personhood on any of the three accounts discussed. My intensions for this section were to respond to the plausible objection that ableism is an unAfrican concept. I discounted these claims and indicated the various ways in which ableism has made itself evident in African communities. The rational here was not to view African communities as monolithic, rather to expose how ableist views permeate through proverbial talk and thinking that I think is influenced by the categories that are used to distinguish an animal from a muntu and Muntu. Are these views a true reflection of Africa? Answering this question is unnecessary; any

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view that shows itself to be discriminatory ought to be rejected. I then responded to the communitarians claim that a theory is just a theory. I think that this question deserves further philosophical consideration. It demands philosophers to interrogate what the role of theorizing is.

Conclusion: Toward an Inclusive Account of Personhood The demand that I place on the communitarian to have an inclusive account of persons, the kind that would not discriminate against persons with disabilities and in particular SCD persons, highlights a philosophical tension that needs to be explored. (Throughout this chapter, I referred to such persons as individuals or people to avoid begging the question. Now that I have successfully indicated the exclusionary nature of the studied theory, such a shift is justified.) That is, it seems that any account of personhood should be able to distinguish between those who are morally responsible for their behavior from those who are not. Such an account of personhood should not marginalize people with disabilities arbitrarily. Yet, it seems that no account would be able to satisfactorily include SCD humans. If rationality which is used as the distinguishing marker for personhood (these moves are often drawn on in abortion debates as well, see Kuhse and Singer (1985), Nussbaum (2005), and McMahan (2003)), which refers to the good, proper or logical use of one’s mental capabilities. The challenge is why would one include SCD individuals to the category of persons if they cannot use their mental capacities? If such individuals say do not understand the ontological importance of the community, how does one hold these people morally accountable for their actions? This philosophical tension only arises because certain theories and philosophers have placed the importance of personhood on descriptive capacities which would grant one personhood. However, I do not think that this needs to be the case. If communitarian theories of personhood were to give an account of personhood that has minimal requirements such as participation (This idea of participation should not be conflated with what the communitarian would call “duty” (see Gyekye 1992: 117–118); as such a conception of “duty” presupposes that one is a person first and only persons have duties (the same goes with talk regarding individual rights).), then this tension would be resolved. Such an account of personhood would be one that does not privilege able-bodies, and in the process, ensures inclusivity. Importantly, this would be the kind of theory that recognizes individual uniqueness. Participation is a requirement that does not demand certain capacities; equally one would be able to hold such individuals morally accountable for their actions. Roughly, a minimal requirement such as participation would entail that individuals are granted personhood insofar as they are seen participating in the community in whatever way they can. At the moment what this inclusive account of personhood will look like is not fully sketched and requires more thought than what this chapter can do, this is something that I intend to explore in the future. Having said that, I do have a rough consideration of what it may look like, which seems fit as an ending to this chapter.

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My proposal is that this theory should be anchored in feminist care theory that recognizes that people are objects of care and as relational beings are also able to care for others in different ways. This is a view that leans toward the kind that is also articulated by Thaddeus Metz, which accords moral status to individuals insofar as they are “capable of being part of a communal relationship[s] of a certain kind” (2012: 393). However, Metz’s theory is not as hierarchical as it presents itself to be. My proposed account of personhood would shy away from statements such as “x is a more of a person than y,” rather such a conception would treat individuals as equals contingent on what they can naturally achieve or not. Importantly, it would force us to recognize that people are not a “madhouse” as Putuma (2017) reminds in her poem cited at the beginning of this chapter, rather that we are all built differently, with different capabilities outside of intelligence that allow us to exist in different ways.

References Bayat, M. 2015. The stories of ‘snake children’: Killing and abuse of children with developmental disabilities in West Africa. Journal of Intellectual Disability Research 59: 1–10. Bell, C. 2006. Introducing white disability studies: A modest proposal. In The disability studies reader, ed. L.J. Davis. New York: Routledge. Carbado, D.W., K.W. Crenshaw, V.M. Mays, and B. Tomlinson. 2013. Intersectionality. Mapping the movements of a theory. Du Bois Review 10 (2): 303. Crosta, P. 2016. Down Syndrome: Facts, Symptoms, and Characteristics. Medical News Today. http://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/145554.php#characteristics_down_syndrome. Accessed on 17 Feb 2017. Descartes, R. 1996. Meditations of first philosophy, ed: J. Cottingham. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Devlieger, P.J. 2010. Frames of reference in African proverbs on disability. International Journal of Disability, Development and Education 46 (4): 439. Du Bois, W.E.B. 1996. The souls of black folk. New York: Penguin. Dunn, D.S., and E.E. Andrews. 2015. Person-first and identity-first langue. Developing psychologists’ cultural competence using disability language. American Psychological Associates 70 (3): 255. Dworkin, G. 1988. The theory and practice of autonomy. New York: Cambridge University Press. Erevelles, N., and A. Minear. 2014. Unspeakable offences: Untangling race and disability in discourses of Intersectionality. In The disability studies reader, ed. L.J. Davis. New York: Routledge. Frankfurt, H.G. 1971. Freedom of the will and the concept of a person. Journal of Philosophy 68: 5. Garland-Thomson, R. 2002. Integrating disability, transforming feminist theory. NWSA Journal 14(3): 1. Gyekye, K. 1992. Person and community in African thought. In Person and community (Ghanaian philosophical studies), ed. K. Wiredu and K. Gyekye. Washington, DC: Council for Research in Values and Philosophy. Harris, J.C. 2010. Developmental perspective on the emergence of moral personhood. Cognitive disability and its challenge to moral philosophy, pp. 55–73. Hountondji, P.J. 1983. African philosophy, myth and reality. London: Hutchinson. Ikuenobe, P. 2006. Philosophical perspectives on communalism and morality in African traditions. Oxford: Lexington books.

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Kagame, A. 1989. The problem of ‘man’ in bantu philosophy. Journal of African religion and philosophy 1 (1): 35. Kamani, G. 1995. The cure. Aunt Lute: San Franciso. Kant, I. 1781/1992. Critique of pure reason. Trans. K.S. Norman. London: Macmillan Publishers. Kant, I. 1785/2012. Groundwork to the metaphysics of morals. Trans. T. Jens. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kaphagawani, D.N. 2004. African conceptions of a person: A critical survey. In A companion to African philosophy, ed. K. Wiredu. Malden: Blackwell Publishing. Kittay, E.F. 2005. Equality, dignity, and disability. In Perspectives on equality the second Seamus Heaney lectures, ed. M.A. Lyons and F. Waldron. Dublin: The Liffey Press. Kittay, E.F. 2009. Ideal theory bioethics and the exclusion of people with severe cognitive disablities. In Naturalized bioethics: Toward responsible knowing and practice, ed. H. Lindemann, M. Verkerk, and M.U. Walker. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Korsgaard, C. 1996. Kant’s formula of humanity. In Creating the kingdom of ends, ed. C. Korsgaard. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Kuhse, H., Singer, P. and Singer, P., 1985. Should the baby live?: The problem of handicapped infants (Vol.138). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Llewellyn, A., and K. Hogan. 2008. The use and abuse of models of disability. In Disability: Major themes in health and social welfare, ed. N. Watson. London: Routledge. Locke, J. 1975/1694. An essay concerning human understanding. In Personal identity, ed. J. Perry. London: University of California Press Lukin, J. 2014. Disability and blackness. In The disability studies reader, ed. L.J. Davis. New York: Routledge. Manzini, N.Z. 2017. African conceptions of person as gender, ableist and anti-queer. Unpublished Masters Dissertation. http://wiredspace.wits.ac.za/handle/10539/24215 Manzini, N.Z. 2018. Menkiti’s communitarian conception of personhood as gendered, ableist and ant-queer. South African Journal of Philosophy 37 (1): 18–33. McMahan, J. 2003. The ethics of killing: Problems at the margins of life. New York: Oxford University Press. Menkiti, I.A. 1984. Person and community in African traditional thought. In African philosophy: An introduction, ed. R.A. Wright. Lanham: University Press of America. Metz, T. 2012. An African theory of moral status: A relational alternative to individualism and holism. Ethical Theory and Moral Practice 15 (3): 387–402. Munyi, C.W. 2012. Past and present perceptions towards disability: A historical perspective. Disability Studies Quarterly 32 (2). Ndlovu, H.L. 2016. African beliefs concerning people with disabilities: Implications for theological education. Journal of Disability & Religion 20 (1–2): 29–39. Nussbaum, H. 2005. Beyond the social contract: Toward global justice. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Putuma, K. 2017. Collective amnesia. Cape Town: uHlanga. Ramose, M.B. 2003. Discourses on Africa. In The African philosophy reader, ed. P.H. Coetzee and A.P.J. Roux. London: Routledge. Siebers, T. 2008. Disability theory. Michigan: The University of Michigan Press. Surendran, V. 2016. Why albinos are being abducted, mutilated, raped and killed in Africa. India Today.in. http://indiatoday.intoday.in/story/albino-killed-in-malawai-africa-body-parts-supersti tion/1/686870.html. Accessed 04 Jan 2017. Tempels, P. 1959. Bantu philosophy. Paris: Presence Africaine. Walker, A. 1983. Beauty: When the other dancer is the self. In In search of our Mother’s gardens: Womanist prose. New York: Harcourt.

Epistemic Injustice, Disability, and Queerness in African Cultures

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conceptualizing Disability and Queerness in African Cultures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Some Knowledge Claims About Disability and Queerness in African Cultures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Discourse on African Epistemology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Epistemology as a Naturalized Epistemology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . African Epistemology as an Elitist Epistemology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Knowledge as Shared or “We” Enterprise . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Epistemic Injustice and Disability and Queerness in African Cultures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

Perception, representations, and knowledge claims about disability and queerness vary across societies and cultures. In African cultures negative knowledge claims and representations of disability and queerness create a perception of the disabled and queer that are not only detrimental to such persons in African societies but arguably undermine the work of understanding difference and tolerance in general. These negative claims raise some epistemological questions, such as: how do Africans come to know about disability and how are such knowledge claims validated within African communities? Against this backdrop, this chapter critically examines the epistemology of disability and queerness in African traditions. It shows that the epistemic authoritarianism found in African epistemology

K. U. Abudu · E. Imafidon (*) Department of Philosophy, Faculty of Arts, Ambrose Alli University, Ekpoma, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected]; elvismafi@yahoo.com; elvis.imafi[email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_29

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leads to an epistemic injustice that contributes immensely to the discrimination against disabled and queer beings as reflected in many cultural practices across the continent of Africa. The chapter argues that knowledge claims about disability and queerness in Africa emerge mainly from neglect, superstition, myth, and, above all, ignorance. Keywords

Disability · Queerness · African culture · African epistemology · Epistemic injustice

Introduction Disability and queerness have been described as complex, dynamic, and multidimensional concepts subject to various definitions from perspectives and disciplines, ranging from sociology, religion, philosophy, etc. In all societies, beliefs are found about disability and queerness which form the basis of attitudes, perceptions, and behaviors toward disabled and queered beings. However, according to Robert and Lindsell, an examination of attitudes toward disability and queerness across all cultures suggests that these beliefs manifest in societal perceptions and treatment of disabled and queered beings is neither homogenous nor static (1997: 133). Additionally, Benedicte Ingstad (1990) suggests that disability and queerness are global phenomena which occur among people of all races and have often involved discrimination. One cannot underestimate the roles culture and traditions play in the discrimination against disabled and queered beings. This position is espoused by Talle, who argues that to understand the concept of disability and queerness, one needs to examine the cultural beliefs as well as a contextual analysis in order to grasp the phenomena in their full social and cultural setting. People with disability and queerness have been labelled socially excluded, marginalized, vulnerable, and chronically poor (Talle 1995: 56). The African culture, from a historical perspective, is known to be a culture that is filled with existential values that promote the well-being of not only the individual but the community at large. Values like sense of community, sense of good human relations, sense of sacredness of life, sense of hospitality, sense of respect for authority and elders, etc. promote the well-being of both the individual and the community. On the other hand, there exist some practices that are detrimental to the well-being of the community, practices like female genital mutilation (FGM), discrimination on the issue of inheritance, widowhood practices, etc. In recent times, it is worthy to mention that discrimination against disabled and queered beings has been rampant in many African societies. The thrust of this chapter is to examine disability and queerness in African culture. Given that all cultures demonstrate responses to disability and queerness which form a continuum (Ingstad, op. cit), literature in non-Western culture, particularly African culture, is dominated by negative attitudes toward disabled and queered beings. O’Toole summarized this postulation as follows:

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In the west, the disabled have been stereotyped as being dependent, depressed and emotionally unstable. . .such negative feelings are intense in LDCs (Least Developed Countries) where overwhelming impression from published literature regarding attitudes towards disabled and queered beings is negative. (1988: 46)

After considering the (1) conceptualizing of disability and queerness in African culture, the (2) knowledge and cognition process of the discrimination against disabled and queered beings in African culture will be explored. This becomes necessary in order to understand the basis for which disabled and queered beings are being discriminated. This is followed by a (3) conceptual discourse on African epistemology, under which there are three basic theories of African epistemology: African epistemology as naturalized epistemology, African epistemology as an elitist epistemology, and knowledge as shared or a “we” enterprise. Following in sequence, we examine (4) the implications of African epistemology for disability and queerness in African culture.

Conceptualizing Disability and Queerness in African Cultures The African worldview is a world of animate, inanimate and several forces. The African is conscious of the influence of each category of these forces in the universe. Their existence, for the African, is reality so, also, is the fact that they interact as coexistent beings in the universe. This idea of the world is accepted by the African and is passed from one generation to another. It forms the basis of the African’s ideology in relation to his/her existence in the world. This idea helps the African to define and explain, intelligibly, the rationale behind all that she/he does, wants to do, what she/he can, or is expected to do in life. This explains why it is not illogical for Africans to tell stories connecting animals, human beings, and the spirits all acting together in a community (Emeakaroha 2002: 1). In many traditional African cultures, there is a strong belief that people’s lives are controlled by ancestral spirits and that disability and queerness have spiritual undertones. However, it is important to note that in African culture, there exist universal and particular disabilities. For instance, individuals that are physically challenged and visually impaired fall within a more generalized understanding of difference. While for particular disabilities, there are persons living with albinism (PWAs) and persons with angular kyphosis (hunchback). In African culture, there have been numerous cases of how persons living with albinism have been killed, hunted, and maimed. The reason is that it is commonly held that these individuals are mysterious beings who have special connection with amassing wealth from the spiritual realm. This has led to several cases of killing these individuals for ritual purpose. In terms of those with angular kyphosis, for instance, in the southwestern part of Nigeria, it is erroneously believed that the only value an individual has is if he or she is used in preparing concoctions for money rituals – even though medical research over the years have shown that having a hunch on the back or on chest is as

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a result of tuberculosis infection. According to Emmanuel Iyidobi, a consultant and a spine specialist: It is very sad that a medical ailment has dangerous connotations in Nigeria. And this great misconception is common in the South-west, South-south and South-east. Some even say humps are filled with diamonds hence families have to accompany family members with the condition. (Iyidobi 2014)

Regarding persons living with albinism (PWAs) in Nigeria, they have been broadly discriminated, isolated, and, at other time, trafficked and killed. According to Shehu Shagari, former president of Nigeria, discrimination against persons living with albinism in Nigeria is endemic, and much of the discrimination “suffered by these persons can be traced to ignorance on the part of the public” (Shagari made this remark during the Fourth National Conference on Albinism in Sokoto State on 12 July, 2010). This explains why persons living with albinism in most traditional African communities live in hiding. The discrimination against disabled and queered in African culture has been found to have negatively heightened the socioeconomic relationships with their peers. The quote above suggests the erroneous belief that has become a justification for the discrimination against disabled and queered beings in Nigeria. Apart from living with the fear of being hunted, some disabled and queered beings have had to relocate hundred miles away from home to avoid stigma and discrimination. Some have been denied jobs, even when it is obvious that they are qualified for the jobs. The above narratives reveal how the discrimination against disabled and queered beings affects them in their respective places of residence. Similarly, the idea that some Africans hold strongly to their cultural and traditional beliefs, with the perception of disabled and queered beings as spiritual creatures rather than a medical condition, heightens the fear of insecurity among these people. Thus, this serves as the manifestations which play into the daily life experiences and trajectories of disabled and queered beings. The narratives of respondents will give clues as to the kind of insecure life disabled and queered beings are being subjected to. The following statements elaborately capture the limited trust and hope persons with Albinism, for instance, have in their current environment: The fear still persists. I remember my mum told me we have to be sceptical about the environment and our neighbours. After five years in Nairobi, the only trusted people are my household members and a Catholic Priest. There are stories of syndicates and their networks in Kenya and other parts of East Africa dealing in human parts. This we are made to know by the police and the Church. Often I am told to be cautious about friends everywhere I go, and that I should always be careful, avoid unknown persons and try as much as possible to move with a relative when it is dark. (Ikuomola 2015: 49)

In another instance, an individual living with albinism in South Africa has this to say:

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Even in school, though I sometimes want to explore like other colleagues, something in me always caution me, reminding me of the plights of the unlikely ones left behind in Tanzania, and those who have been killed. So life as an albino is almost not safe anywhere in Africa. My future plan is to travel to Europe, Australia or America. (Ibid)

The above instances capture how persons with albinism live in utmost fear in most part of Africa. Selling the body parts of disabled and queered beings has become a lucrative business. According to Thuku, the hand, arm, or any albino organ is combined with other ingredients and then sold for thousands of dollars: $3,000 for a hand or over $10,000 for an entire set of organs. Sometimes body parts are even shipped across borders (Thuku 2011: 5). The discussion so far on disability and queerness in an African culture reveals the existential challenges encountered by these beings on daily basis, challenges like fear, anxiety, anguish, and inauthentic existence. All these are to mention but a few. The inability of many communities in Africa to understand that disabled and queered beings are simply victims of biomedical conditions plays a key role in the othering of disabled and queered beings in their host communities, with a few persons having the idea that their conditions have scientific explanations. This is the reason why in this twenty-first century, there exist adherents of cultural practices that are detrimental to the survival of humanity. Some of these inhuman practices are encapsulated in the beliefs, superstitions, myths, folktales, and legends about disabled and queered beings as being spiritual and divine beings. These beliefs cut across many African communities and are being passed from generation to generation.

Some Knowledge Claims About Disability and Queerness in African Cultures The thrust here is to examine the foundation of knowledge and cognition process involved in the othering of disabled and queered beings in African culture, and it is based on this question: What cultural beliefs and knowledge shape local understanding of disability and queerness? Ideologically, people don’t just have discriminatory perceptions toward disability and queerness for no reason. This is because in African communities, there exist some beliefs and ideas that are passed down from generation to generation. These beliefs reflect in myths, superstitions, religious dogmas, witchcraft, and other supernatural forces, and they are generally taken in African culture to be the causes of disability and queerness. This position is corroborated by Abang, who is of the opinion that many people believe that disabled and queered beings are not only inferior to those without disability and queerness but can also be used for social and economic benefit, that is, they lack the basic features that make them full humans and can be used for sacrifices in other to bring wealth or good luck (Abang 1991). This forms the basis of attributing disability and queerness to some form of malevolent, preternatural force by reference to demons, evil spirits, and witchcraft and has contributed to the view of disability as both undesirable and unacceptable in the society.

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Various narratives about the knowledge and cognition process of disability and queerness have been observed, and some resonate across sub-Saharan Africa. In Namibia, for instance, the explanatory source disability and queerness are attributed to an external force, such as a curse or evil spirits. Also, it is often believed that disability and queerness are simply consequences of angering the ancestors by breaching some moral codes or failing to honor their memory. Improper family relations, including extramarital affairs and incestuous relationships, have been cited as perceived causes of disability and queerness with mothers generally implicated. Ingstad suggests that such stories may be related to social control and the need to adhere to social conventions and moral codes, for example, being caste in a marriage. In the Yoruba traditional thought system, it is believed that atypical developmental condition which may result to disability and queerness is, as a result, a curse brought about the defiance of a pregnant woman who walks outside at midday or midnight or represents a punishment for wrongdoings such as getting involved in extramarital affair. Also, in Namibia, it is believed that a woman who gave birth to a child with albinism has slept with either a white man or a ghost. As explained above, it is cognitively held in African culture that disability and queerness have spiritual and ethical undertone, that is, it is often believed that disability and queerness are implications of a spiritual lag on the part of the parents and also that an individual is disabled due to a supposed immoral conduct which either of the parents had got involved in. On this basis, in African culture, the foundation of knowledge claims about disability and queerness is believed to be a superstitious belief based on a curse or spell which was cast as retribution for a past transgression, with disability and queerness viewed as the negative consequences. Also, in African culture, it is often held that demons and evil spirit dominated a group’s view of disability and queerness causation. The cause of disability and queerness is attributed to an external force. This explains the reason why disabled and queered beings are described as having been placed under or on a seat for demons or ghosts. Knowledge and cognition of disability and queerness do not only define the external, supernatural force in disability and queerness causation but also identified an incidental physical symptoms and financial gains. In the Eastern part of Africa, knowledge and cognition of disability and queerness continue to be prevalent. Beliefs about the causes of disability and queerness are often described as expressed in proverbs, folktales, oral tradition, and from interviews with traditional healers. Regarding universal disability like blindness, Adams opined that people in Zimbabwe do attribute blindness and leprosy to witchcraft, spirits, disobeying a taboo, or natural causes. Corroborating Adam’s stance, Mallory and Mbah-Ndam explained that disability and queerness are regarded as “Punishment from the gods or bad omen, and hence disabled and queered beings are rejected or abandoned” (Mallory and Mbah-Ndam 1993: 19). Also, there exist descriptions of taboos that, when broken, are thought to cause disability and queerness. For instance, among the Nandi people of Kenya, it is believed that if a man kills an animal without good reason during his wife’s pregnancy, the child to be born may be

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disabled or queered (Ogechi and Ruto 2002: 63). Having sexual intercourse during pregnancy is also seen as a taboo, and breaking this too can cause a child to be disabled or queered. It is also believed that laughing at people with disability can cause an individual to have a disabled or queered child. A study in Kenya reported that even healthcare personnel are not free from these superstitious beliefs about disability and queerness. This is because they believe that several factors like birth trauma, abuse, witchcraft, or spirits contact with certain animals (El Sharkawy et al. 2006: 201). From the exploration of knowledge and cognition of disability and queerness in African culture, it is clear that the bases of discrimination against disabled and queered beings are superstitions, myths, ignorance, etc. The reason being that these beliefs have not been proven scientifically, neither will they be scientifically proven in time to come. These beliefs are simple out of sheered ignorance and are being passed from generation to generation.

Discourse on African Epistemology Knowledge, its acquisition and certainty, among other discourses, is the theme of the branch of philosophy known as epistemology. In the attempt to theorize how knowledge is being acquired, philosophers have postulated several theories of knowledge, theories like empiricism, rationalism, pragmatism, reliabilism, and, most recently, naturalized epistemology. However, our attempt here is not to discuss the various theories of knowledge but to conceptually elucidate African epistemology under the earlier theorizations.

African Epistemology as a Naturalized Epistemology In an attempt by the logical positivists to explain phenomena using the methods of science, naturalized epistemology emerged. Naturalized epistemology is a shift from the tenets of traditional epistemology, that is, defining knowledge as a justified true belief (JTB). It simply concerns itself with the natural processes involved in knowledge acquisition. In an attempt to define naturalized epistemology as a recent branch of epistemology, no one can dispute the contributions of W.V.O. Quine. Quine says: Epistemology still goes on, though in a new setting and a clarified status Epistemology, or something like it, simply falls into place as a chapter of psychology and hence a natural science. It studies a natural phenomenon, that is, a physical human subject is accorded a certain patterns of irradiation in assorted frequencies, for instance – and in the fullness of time, the subject delivers as output a description of the three dimensional external world and its history. The relation between the meagre inputs and the torrential outputs is a relation that we are prompted to study for the same reasons that always prompted epistemology; namely, in order to see how evidence relates to theory of nature transcends any available evidence. (Quine 1969: 24)

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From the above quote, it can be deduced that naturalized epistemology differs from the definition of knowledge as a justified true belief; that is why traditional epistemology is concerned with the knowledge of the object by the subject and naturalized epistemology is simply concerned with the natural processes involved in knowing. Evident, for instance, is Quine’s idea of meagre and torrential outputs. It is believed that the epistemic competence of an adult is often time determined by the values inculcated in him during the stage of infancy. This means that what the individual learns at infancy represent meagre inputs and the manifestations at adulthood is known as torrential outputs. By this, naturalized epistemology is a branch of cognitive psychology. This is because the individual at the early stage of life is taught basic cognitive tasks like learning language, perception, paying attention, and the processes involved. These processes, according to Quine, will reconstruct traditional epistemology and bring about naturalism in epistemology. Quine writes: Why all the creative reconstruction, all this make believe? The stimulation of his sensory receptors is all the evidence anybody has had to go on, ultimately, in arriving at his picture of the world. Why not just see how this construction really proceeds? Why not settle for psychology? (Ibid)

Quine’s position here is simply to make the discourse of epistemology a branch of psychology. By this, naturalized epistemology is an attempt to replace traditional epistemology with the natural processes of knowing. Elucidating the nexus between naturalized epistemology and African epistemology, it is a truism that the epistemic competence or otherwise of an adult in African community is majorly influenced by the meagre inputs he learnt when he was an infant. This simply means that beliefs and thought systems which an individual may claim to know during adulthood are simply by-products of what he had been taught at the stage of infancy. For instance, believing in rituals, taboos, Supreme Being, and some supernatural forces, basically, is inculcated in a child at early stage of life as meagre inputs. From another perspective, meagre inputs in naturalized epistemology as it relates to knowledge acquisition in Africa are rooted in three basic endogenous ways: analysis of African proverbs, theory building, and documentation of parent ethno-theories. The first process deals primarily with an examination of the indigenous formulations of child development and socialization values embedded in African languages and oral traditions. An infant at this stage within African traditional thought system acquires knowledge about his origin, history, culture, and religion, about the meaning and reality of life, and about moral norms and survival techniques. Several collections of proverbs have been published in different African languages, and their content has been analyzed to show the recurrence of the themes of shared communal responsibility for children’s moral guidance and the importance of providing early in life (Abubakar 2011: 4). What the position implies is that part of the meagre inputs of the natural processes involved in inculcating knowledge in a child within African epistemological framework has to do with proverbs and oral traditions. On this basis, a child is taught via proverbs and, in general, oral traditions.

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The second natural process involved in knowledge acquisition at the early stage is called “social apprenticing.” The principal task here is to inculcate in the children how to rehearse social roles that pertain to four hierarchical spheres of life: self, household, network, and public. Parents here assign responsibility to children including care and socialization of children which serves as the function of priming the emergence of social responsibility. The third natural process is called parental ethno-theories. This simply involves the strategies employed by parents to help their children grow up to become successful members of their communities. Basically, parental ethno-theories about children as learners provide foundation for the way parents think about their children’s environment for learning. These ideas, in turn, are related to parental ethno-theories of children’s intelligence and personality. From the discussion above, it is obvious that what infants claim to know is simply inculcated in them by their parents. Hence these ideas inculcated in children especially within African community are regarded as meagre inputs. These meagre inputs are expected to serve as the epistemic values that will guide the child to adulthood, and therefore, the meagre inputs will translate to torrential outputs at adulthood. This discourse reflects in African epistemology as a naturalized theory of knowledge. The epistemic competence of an adult is simply a product of what was inculcated in him by his parents. This is simply the natural process of knowledge acquisition within African thought system.

African Epistemology as an Elitist Epistemology We know enough about our ancient past to be able to say that most ancient civilizations, once they were big enough to have cities, had elites. Human civilizations have always had power relatively concentrated in the hands of a few, and the elites have often received that status from parentage and wealth, although with many exceptions; at times, the strongest, smartest, or boldest individuals have been able to raise themselves to elite status. In some societies, priests, intellectuals, and/or artists have had the potential to gain elite status, although usually only in cooperation with the political and economic. Perhaps the most controversial debate concerning elitism is whether it is the best thing for everyone in a society. Throughout human history, most people have believed that the elites ruled by right, they deserved to be the elites, and had better personal qualities than the others, whether that was supposed to be because of the families they came from, because they were chosen by God, or because they competed for their status with superior strength or intelligence. This idea was not often questioned before the past 400 years and remains a common belief today. In Asia, even more than America, people tend to believe that the leaders of powerful corporations are superior human beings who have rightfully earned their privileges. But even if you reject heredity and God as sources of elite status, you may believe that the people who are raised in the best environments and receive the best educations are going to end up most qualified to wield power.

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From the conceptual analysis of what elitism is, one can easily deduce that elitism in epistemology is not in doubt. The question that readily comes to mind is: what is Elitist epistemology? Elitist epistemology is defined as a theory of knowledge which holds that true acquisition of knowledge can be achieved by a particular class of individuals, especially the political, community, or religious elites. Here, the desires of the others must be jettisoned to this class of people who see themselves as the appropriate interpreters of the truth, whether it is the truth of God, nature, science, philosophy, or the state. Hence, they assume the epistemological duty of thought and of reasoning. Accordingly, elitism in epistemology holds that people are considered to be pawns in the games of the elites; yet if their servile status confronted, it will become clear that they have the capacity to judge events (Moseley 2002). In African traditional thought system, there exist some individuals who are regarded as elites, and their views about issues relating to God, truth, knowledge, etc. are regarded as philosophical disquisitions. These individuals or elites are known as elders. The roles of elders in knowledge acquisition in Africa cannot be overemphasized. African culture is a culture that encourages respect for elders and to accept the values sustained by them. Elders in Africa, because of their moral, religious, and epistemic authority, are capable of influencing their communities’ dispositions toward certain issues. Within the African epistemological framework, elders are seen as repository of knowledge and wisdom. This explains the reason why when an elder dies, it is believed the death is a big loss to the community. Corroborating this, Ki-zerbo argues “when an elder passes away, it is a whole library which disappears” (Ki-zerbo 1990). This position explains the immense roles of elders in a typical community in inculcation of epistemic values in the individuals in African communities. Although, one can argue that some elders in African communities do not possess the requisite epistemic skills in terms of literacy. However, in a typical African community, literacy is not seen as a yardstick of the sagacity of an elder. Accordingly, the elders are seen as epistemic authorities in existential issues as they relate to their respective communities. The role of the elders in knowledge acquisition in Yoruba traditional thought, for instance, can be realized in the foremost Agbalagba poem: May good elders not be exhausted in the community. . .Elder, save me. The elder is the one who saves wholly. Experience is the crown of the elder. Elder understands every matter inside out. . . The grey haired one, full of knowledge and wisdom. . . The one clothed in character of white garment. (The “elder” as used here in meaning and social reference among the Yorubas refers to the “aged,” the gerontology concept commonly used in literature.)

The crown of the elder here describes the knowledge that is socially acquired through experience among the Yorubas. The gray hair is not viewed as an indication of physical weakness and gradual descent into death, but as an indication of fullness of knowledge and wisdom. For instance, the Yorubas believe that even though a young person may claim to have knowledge about a particular issue, but such knowledge cannot be compared to that of an elder. The assumptions that elders are

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epitome of knowledge also socially represent the elders with the value of commanding respect accentuating effectiveness in thoughts, action, and discretion. In terms of knowledge about judgment, the Yorubas place value on an elder’s position as almost infallible. In another perspective, the role of elders in knowledge acquisition in African epistemology is succinctly captured by Ikuenobe: Learning of values by the younger ones from the elders reveals that the community as an informal educational structure represents a hierarchy of moral authority and teaching responsibilities, where those in the top hierarchy teach and reinforce for those in the lower hierarchy how they ought to behave in order to achieve harmony. In this hierarchy children are at the lowest level and the elders, who are not only the custodian of the tradition, but are people of wisdom (epistemologically and morally), are at the top. The highest moral status in the community is being an elder or chief, or, in some cases, king or queen. (Ikuenobe 2006: 136)

From the discourse so far, it is clear that a typical theory that is truly African has the basics of African epistemology. Just as Albert, Isaac Newton, Plato, Aristotle, and Socrates are regarded as elites in the fields of science and philosophy, respectively, so are elders regarded as elites within African traditional and epistemological framework. The elders are seen as encyclopedias of knowledge, and they possess the feature of epistemic authoritarianism, in the sense that whatever knowledge claim the elders make, it is difficult to discard such.

Knowledge as Shared or “We” Enterprise While it cannot be denied that knowledge acquisition in African traditional thought can be acquired by the natural processes which involve the five sense organs, and that no one can underestimate the roles of elders in acquiring knowledge, it is also pertinent to note that the community which an individual belongs can also influence such individual. This makes epistemology in Africa to be a social or communal kind of epistemology as distinct from the Western and/or individual type of epistemology. The experience of an African reality gives rise to general qualities in African philosophy, one of these being the discourse of community in Africa, also referred to as communalism. Culturally, “African” denotes a set of customs and a social setting that place community and ancestry at the center of existence and knowing. Consequently, community in this sense refers to the sort of life that is characterized by warm or binding relationships between persons and between present generations and past as well as future unborn ones. According to Higgs, community consists of a number of people who have something in common with one another that connects them in some way and that distinguishes them from others (Higgs 2010: 241). The basis of this connection can be geographical, language, and ethnic or religious identification. For the purpose of this chapter, however, community in Africa is defined in connected interactions between people who are alive today and connections between past, current, and future generations of people. It also refers to harmony between humans and their nonhuman environments. A person is always

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born and grows within a clan or tribe, lives by, and practices its core values of existence. (S)he is expected to be cognizant of the values, customs, and norms of the tribe to which he belongs in all her/his interactions with other people and nature. These communal values underlie most interactions with your neighbor and nature. Accordingly, Higgs opines that the importance of communality to traditional African life cannot be overemphasized. This is because community and belonging to a community of people constitute the very fabric of traditional African life (Ibid). For example, among the Wanga, a Luhya clan in Kenya, all members of the clan trace their ancestry to one person. For this reason, members of the clan see themselves as brothers and sisters, such that it is an abomination for anyone, male or female, to marry another person from the clan; they would have committed incest. In case a child is born accidentally for two clan members, this child is considered an outcast and does not share in any inheritance of the clan. The communality in this example is the knowledge that all clan members hail from one ancestor and that they are brothers and sisters. Flowing from the above, it is clear that an African, aside from the fact that he sees his authentic existence in an ontological relationship with others, also acquires knowledge as a form of togetherness in the community. Emphasizing on the essence of togetherness in knowledge acquisition, Bert Hamminga writes: Since togetherness is the highest value, we want share our views, all of them. Hence we always agree with everybody standing up and saying: “I have a radically different opinion” would not, as it often does in the West, draw attention to what I have to say. Instead, I am likely to be led before my clan leaders before I even had the chance to continue my speech. Among us, you simply never radically different opinions. That is because, and that is why we are together. Togetherness is our ultimate criterion of any action, the pursuit of knowledge being just one of them. (Hamminga 2005: 58)

The above position by Hamminga suggests that the knowing subject in African thought is not the individual, but the clan. This simply means that knowledge is a form of togetherness. From the perspective of Leopold Senghor, the social feature found in African epistemology is seen in the fact that there is no dualism between the individual and the community. This is because both the individual and the community thrive on mutual interaction. This results in a holistic understanding of African ontological reality which is simply put by Senghor thus: I feel I dance the other, I am (Senghor 1964: 50), I am in contradistinction to Cartesian cogito: I think therefore I am. Put differently, an African knows an object if and only if what he knows belongs to the epistemological framework of such community. This can be expressed as I know because we know, and since we know, therefore I know. The interrelationship between the individual and the community in African epistemology can also be seen in Hamminga’s distinction between African and Western epistemology. Accordingly, Hamminga writes: Via ones participation in the social context, one knows. In this regard, knowledge comes via tradition, ancestors and heritage. Here, the acquisition of knowledge becomes a “we” enterprise. (Hamminga, op. cit.)

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It is pertinent to note here that African epistemology is based on a communal theory of knowledge, that is, the individual’s knowledge claims must be in conformity to the already established set of beliefs. This is because the knowing subject is the community to which such individual belongs.

Epistemic Injustice and Disability and Queerness in African Cultures By epistemic injustice, we mean here the analysis of the sought of injustice that arises from attempts to suppress other forms of knowledge production, processes of knowing, and bodies of knowledge by a monopolistic and hegemonic epistemic structure. We also have in mind a closely related meaning of epistemic injustice which consists of attempts to deliberately and actively produce knowledge claims that do harm to others and largely paint others as incapable of producing counterknowledge claims that can be taken seriously. In the words of Miranda Fricker in her groundbreaking work, Epistemic Injustice: Power and the Ethics of Knowing, epistemic injustice is “a wrong done to someone specifically in their capacity as a knower” (2007: 1). Fricker explains that such epistemic injustice could occur at two levels as testimonial injustice and hermeneutical injustice. She therefore adds that: Testimonial injustice occurs when prejudice causes a hearer to give a deflated level of credibility to a speaker’s word; hermeneutical injustice occurs at a prior stage, when a gap in collective interpretive resources puts someone at an unfair disadvantage when it comes to making sense of their social experiences. (2007: 1)

Similarly, Anita Ho (2014: 1038) explains that: As both a moral concept as well as an epistemic concept, epistemic injustice is a type of wrong and harm that is done to individuals or social groups regarding their ability to contribute to and benefit from knowledge creation. This form of injustice can occur in at least three interrelated types of scenarios. First, epistemic injustice can happen in the form of unequal distribution of hermeneutical resources such as conceptual understanding and articulative ability that would be necessary to achieve or contribute to knowledge creation. Second, epistemic injustice can occur when certain people’s capacity as knowers or collaborative learners is unfairly dismissed. Third, epistemic injustice can happen when there is intermethod hierarchy, that is certain methods of inquiry or research are uncritically dismissed while other methods are categorically presumed to be superior.

Fricker and Ho’s analysis of epistemic injustice is instructive and important in our analysis of the sought of epistemic injustice done to disabled and queer beings in African cultures and societies. Such epistemic injustice consists of the active and deliberate efforts by social structures such as the elite class to produce and sustain in the social system knowledge claims that not only harm persons with disability and queerness but also paint them as incapable of providing an epistemic defense for their status; in other words, their capacity as knowers is somewhat fairly dismissed, and they are put in an unfair, disadvantaged position that makes it difficult for them to provide reliable information about their lived experiences. Thus, African

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epistemological framework has dire implication for the well-being of persons with disability and queerness since it is ladened with epistemic injustice regarding how knowledge claim about disability and queerness is being naturalized in African culture; it is a known fact that perceptions and social attitudes toward disabled and queered beings often times reflect in the family, which teaches an individual at the stage of infancy, customs, and institutionalized values. Evident, for instance, is the position of Gellman who opined that the upbringing of a child will to a considerable extent predetermine an adult’s behavior toward disabled and queered beings (Gellman 1959). Corroborating the position that child-rearing practices have their implications for disability and queerness, Whiting and Charles write that beliefs about disability and queerness are influenced by significant early relationship between children and parents which in turn lead to the children’s conformity to adult standards behavior (Whiting 1995: 82). Since the knowledge and cognition of queerness in African culture suggest that most disabled and queered beings find themselves in such conditions as a result of a curse befalling their families, parents therefore tend to institutionalize the idea of not relating with disabled and queered beings in their children. This is because it is superstitiously held that relating with these beings can make them disabled or queered. This explains the position that it is believed that the degree to which disabled and queered beings are discriminated against in African culture is a consequence of the epistemic values institutionalized in the children by their parents. On this basis, when disability and queerness are conceptualized by the parents as evil, it naturally follows the children will have a negative perception toward disabled and queered beings. It then points to the fact that people’s negative attitude toward disability and queerness is simply misconceptions that stem from proper understanding as propagated in the family. One cannot underestimate the implication of the epistemic authoritarianism as found in the discourse of African epistemology as an elitist epistemology for disability and queerness in African culture. Against this backdrop, the elders in the community make knowledge claims about disabled and queered being, and considering the fact that elders are respected individuals, their knowledge claims are accepted as epistemic values which the community conform to. For instance, in some communities in Kenya and Zimbabwe, the conditions of disabled and queered beings are often made worse due to the pronouncements of the elders. According to these elders, a disabled or queered child is seen as a symbol of curse befalling the whole family. Such child is a “shame” to the whole family, hence their rejection by the family and community. Disabled and queered beings who are often affected by these beliefs, attitudes, and knowledge claims by the elders can hardly develop their full potential. They get less attention, less stimulation, less education, less medication, less care, less upbringing, and sometimes less nourishment compared to other children. In furtherance, affirms the roles of elders’ knowledge claims in othering disabled and queered beings: Attitudes and behaviour towards disabled and queered b beings are often transmitted from the elders to the younger ones as much as they are felt to fit their sound and comprehensive beliefs because of their less clear emotional prejudice. (Wright 1960: 256)

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The elders in African communities are capable of internalizing epistemic norms that are capable of promoting the discrimination against disabled and queered beings. These epistemic norms influence the community perception toward disability and queerness because elders in African communities are seen as custodians of value systems. Concerning the communal framework that exists in African epistemology as a shared theory of knowledge, there exist communities in Africa where discrimination against disabled and queered beings is at its peak, and if an individual does not conform to such practices, he is deemed to be normatively disabled; Gellman captures this position succinctly when he writes that: Cues learned in the community serve as guide for distinguishing and differentiating various types of disabilities in accordance with the socially accepted norms. For example, the Eskimos perceive a limited number of disabilities whereas the Americans generally use a large number of terms for persons with disability. Community furnishes in addition to roles and languages, a customary attitude towards disabled and queered beings. (Gellman, op. cit:4)

Gellman’s position explains the impact a community which an individual belongs can have on his view of disability and queerness. Since, for instance, African epistemology is a communal epistemology, the knowledge claims which an individual claims to make are simply borne out of the epistemic framework of such community. This stance has contributed immensely to pity, fear uneasiness, guilt, etc. that disabled and queered beings are passing through. Using Thomas Hobbes expression, African communities to disabled and queered beings are nothing short of living in a “state of nature” which is solitary, nasty, brutish, and short. These attributes have for a long time affected the relationship between disabled and queered beings with nondisabled people. These communities impose artificial limitations upon them, deny them equal opportunities for development and living, and inadequately demote them to second-class citizens to be pitied (in the sense where pity is seen as devaluation tinged with contempt (Munyi 2012: 5). Another implication of African epistemology as a communal epistemology for disability and queerness is that it promotes a kind of predetermination of values which an individual is expected to abide by. Accordingly, an individual that is novel in a community that propagate discriminatory practices toward disabled and queered beings may not have an option than to conform to the already existing values, since in Africa, the individual is insufficient to live for himself, but sufficient if his existence conforms to the communal norms. By this, there already exist stereotype of disabled and queered beings. Just as it is normative for an African to conform to already existing beliefs like the belief in a Supreme Being, the potency of rituals and taboos, and the belief in ancestors and other supernatural forces, it is imperative to believe that disabled and queered beings only serve economic purpose, that is, using their body parts as rituals. This explains the reason why in African communities, the physique of a disabled or queered being is enough to give meaning his existence. For instance, in some communities in the southwestern part of Nigeria, when a person with hunchback is sighted, the

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erroneous belief that comes to mind is the millions of dollars in which the hunch can be sold. Espousing this position further, Wright puts it: The physique (as well as certain other characteristics), has an enormous power to evoke a wide variety of expressions and feelings about the person. In fact, the physical deviation is frequently seen as central key to a person’s behaviour and personality and largely responsible for the important ramifications in a person’s life. This spread holds for both the person with disability himself and those evaluating him. (Wright 1960: 118)

Wright’s position above explains the extent to which the knowledge claims about disability and queerness can go a long way in affecting how people view the physique of a disabled and queered being from a social perspective. This position is evident in the communal framework of an African culture which is basically influenced by what the community accepts to be knowledge claim.

Conclusion Thus far, this chapter has examined the concept of disability and queerness in an African culture. From the discussion so far, it is evident that disabled and queer beings in most African communities are living an inauthentic life due to the epistemic injustice done against them in African thought. Also, the chapter examined the knowledge and cognition process involved in the negative perception toward disability and queerness and maintains that this perception is simply out of myth, superstition, and, above all, ignorance. While African epistemology to a considerable extent deals with how Africans acquire knowledge, one cannot also deny how the epistemic injustice in it has contributed to the discrimination against disabled and queered beings. A typical naturalized African epistemology propagates this discrimination as a form of parents to child disposition. In this discrimination against disabled and queered beings, the elders and the community to which an individual belongs are culpable. The reason being that while discriminatory norms are inherent in African communities, the elders help in propagating these norms. Having said all these, it is imperative to note that no matter the diachronic discrimination against disabled and queered beings, none of these practices can be justified. To this end, efforts to eliminate all forms of prejudices and discrimination against disabled and queered beings have become futile.

References Abang, T.B. 1991. Educating mentally retarded and gifted children in Nigeria, organisation for children with special needs. Jos, Nigeria. Abubakar, A.C. 2011. Proverbs as sources of philosophical ideas about African education. In Handbook of African educational theories and practices: A generative teacher education, ed. A.B. Nbamenang and T.M. Tchombe. Yaounde: Presses Universitaries d’Afrique.

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El Sharkawy, G., et al. 2006. A history and practices of families and health care personnel toward children with epilepsy in Kilifi, Kenya. Epilepsy and Behaviour 8: 201–212. Emeakaroha, E. 2002. African world and ideology. Being a seminar paper presented at the Theological Department of University of Vienna, Austria. Fricker, M. 2007. Epistemic injustice: Power and the ethics of knowing. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Gellman, W. 1959. Roots of prejudice against the handicapped. Journal of Rehabilitation. pp. 254–256. Hamminga, B. 2005. Epistemology from the African point of view. In Knowledge cultures: Comparative Western and African epistemology, ed. Bert Hamminga. Amsterdam: Rodopi. Higgs, P. 2010. Towards an indigenous African epistemology of Community in Education Research. Procedia Social and Behavioural Sciences 2 (24). Ho, A. 2014. Epistemic injustice. In Encyclopaedia of bioethics, ed. Bruce Jennings, 4th ed. Wadsworth Publishing. Ikuenobe, P. 2006. Philosophical perspective on communalism and morality in African traditions. Lanham: Lexington Books. Ikuomola, D. 2015. We thought we will be safe here: Narratives of Tanzanian Albinos in South Africa. International Multidisciplinary Journal 9 (4): 37–54. Ingstad, B. 1990. The disabled persons in the community: Social and cultural aspects. International Journal of Rehabilitation Research 13: 187–194. Iyidobi, E. 2014. Nigerian Hunchbacks: People see us as money making machines. The Punch Newspaper. Ki-zerbo, J. 1990. Educate or perish: Africa’s impasse and prospects. UNESCO-UNICEF. DakarAbidjan. Mallory, B.L., and J.N. Mbah-Ndam. 1993. Traditional changing views of disability in developing societies: Causes, consequences and cautions. New York: World Rehabilitation Fund. Moseley, A. 2002. A philosophy of war, New York: Algora Publishing. Munyi, C.W. 2012. Past and present perception towards disability: A historical perspective. Disability Studies Quarterly 32 (2). O’Toole, B. 1988. Development and evaluation of a community based rehabilitation programme for pre-school disabled children in Guyana. PhD Thesis, Institute of Education, University of London. Ogechi, N., and S. Ruto. 2002. Portrayal of disability of disability through personal names and proverbs in Kenya: Evidence from Ekegusii and Nandi. Vienna Journal of African Studies (3): 63–82. Quine, W.V.O. 1969. Epistemology naturalized. In Naturalized epistemology, ed. H. Komblith. Cambridge: MIT Press. Robert, C., and J. Lindsell. 1997. Attitudes and behavioural intention towards peers with disabilities. International Journal of Disability, Development and Education 44: 133–145. Senghor, L. 1964. On African Socialism (trans. Cook, M.). London: Paul Male Press. Talle, A. 1995. A child is a child: disability and equality among the Kenya Massai. In B. Ingstad (Ed.) Disability and culture. Berkeley: University of California Press. Thuku, M. 2011. Myths, discrimination, and the call of special rights for persons with albinism in sub-Saharan Africa. Amnesty International Editorial Review on Special Programme on Africa. Whiting, M. 1995. Integration: social justice for teachers. Presented at the Australian Association for Research in Education Conference. Wright, B.A. 1960. Physical disability: A psychological approach. New York: Harper and Row.

Part V Difference and the Experience of the Other in Specific African Spaces

The Stranger, Othering, and the Epistemology of Difference in African Space

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Stranger: Western Conceptual Beginnings, African Spatial Realities . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Other, Othering, and the Emergence of the Othered . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Othering and the Epistemology of Difference in Africa . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Concluding Remarks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

The “stranger” and strangeness have become key notions of our negotiated encounters of those considered foreign to our community, ways of life, and our lived world. Noting that the phenomenon has been conceptually examined beginning with the work of Georg Simmel “Der Fremde” (“The Stranger”), the chapter employs the early conceptual analyses of the stranger to engage an understanding of the stranger in African spaces. This is done as some preparation for examining the phenomenon of the stranger within the context of othering and the “other.” To do this, the stranger is further presented as different by employing the framework of the epistemology of difference. And so, the thrust of the chapter is the analysis of stranger in Africa as an instance of the “other,” construed through the process of othering, typified in African by the right of belongingness, which differentiates the identities of the host and that of the stranger. Keywords

The stranger · Othering · African spaces · Belongingness · Epistemology of difference P. A. Ikhane (*) Department of Philosophy, Faculty of Arts, University of Ibadan, Ibadan, Nigeria e-mail: [email protected]; [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_30

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Introduction Many parts of the world continue to witness the presence and inflow of nonlocals (foreigners), who, as it were, are considered outsiders. And, as migratory movements increase, the presence and inflow of foreigners is expected to continue and, perhaps, even increase, eventually making the encounters with foreigners by locals inevitable. In other words, the fact (and possibility) of geographical and sociocultural mobility means that individuals (locals) are exposed to a wider range of different lifestyles and competing attitudes. As such, individuals, locals especially, are increasingly likely to encounter “strangers” (foreigners) and, as such, are to navigate the gaps and contrasts between their values and those of the stranger as the result of the encounters with strangers. To be sure, the stranger and the local emerge as realities in the social interaction process that is itself the outcome of some form of globalization – understood as the process where humans and human creations cross borders (geographical and sociocultural), interacting and connecting with others. The realities of navigating gaps and contrasts, discontinuities, and contradictions in values and precepts, norms, and standards by locals have resulted in varied attitudes toward the stranger in Africa and in other parts of the world. In African, say, by the mid-1970s, the privileged social and economic positions that strangers enjoyed (as an aftermath of colonialism) had been revised. Indeed, many of the legislations that were promulgated at the time were to the effect that they required the return of “these (colonial) strangers” to their homelands. It is, however, pertinent to note that what is now seen as a “contemporary human problem is, in matter of fact, rooted in antiquity, perhaps dating to the origins of city-states” (Shack and Skinner 1979: 1). To be sure, the rise of the city-state – understood as a type of small independent and sovereign unit that usually consists of a single city and its independent territories – produced, by its emergence as economic hubs and centers of urban culture, the stranger. By this understanding, it was the cosmopolitan character of the city-state, together with its independency in a loosed geographical and cultural setting – in ancient cities as Italy and Greece – that created the stranger as it became a place of encounter of persons of diverse traditions and customs, beliefs, and practices that were often unfamiliar to other persons. That is, the culture of the city-state, which was usually multiethnic, resulted in the discontinuity and contrast of values of persons found in the city-state. In the twentieth-century Europe and America, dominant and prevailing studies of the stranger are done in the conceptual context of understanding the place and role of race and ethnicity in social life with the intent of underscoring the importance of the assimilation or integration of the stranger within host communities (Shack and Skinner 1979: 3). In Africa, extant studies of the stranger reveal that the stranger’s place has become increasingly uncertain, because of the sometimes strained relations between African states, as well as with governments outside the continent of Africa that the presence of the stranger generates. This uncertainty regarding the presence of the stranger is evident in the sorts of attitudes and dispositions toward the stranger by locals, where the stranger often finds himself at the margins of society. The basis for attitudes toward the stranger in Africa is traced to more cultural realities of the

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African in terms of customs, rituals, and rites. To be sure, these realities result in the stranger perceived as different. In this vein, the present chapter attempts an exposition of the epistemology of difference in Africa premised on an understanding of the stranger in the context of the African lived world. That is, the construed understanding of the stranger in Africa, taken as theoretical framework, is intended to provide the foundation for explicating the epistemology of difference in Africa. To this end, it would be stated here that the “stranger,” in the context of the present study, is read as a cultural type, as it (the stranger) is construed to emerge from within cultural practices in the African spaces. Also, reference to “African spaces” is meant to underscore the understanding that the histories and sociocultural practices of Africans are significantly different and that there is variance in the attitudes of locals in negotiating encounters with strangers. Be as this may, there is however a sense (perhaps a reductive one) wherein reference may be made to the experience of the stranger in Africa as similar. In this vein, the experience of the stranger is not understood phenomenally but conceptually. That is, talk of the experience of the stranger is not in the context of the singularities of experiences of strangers as may be the case in African spaces but as conceptually determined by the values, culture, and worldview that define what is African. (Here, I likened reference to Africa as conceptually connoted by how the expressions “West” or “Western” describe a “culture” that allows geographically non-Western nations such as America to be so referred.) To achieve the purpose of the present chapter – the conceptual understanding of difference in Africa in terms of othering, via an understanding of the stranger in Africa – it (the chapter) is structured into three sections. The first section examines the concept of the stranger. It does this by starting with an exposition of the conceptual beginnings of the stranger in the West. In this vein, it turns to some of the early literature on the stranger as conceived in the West. Having underscored the early studies on the stranger, the chapter attempts an understanding of the concept in Africa. In doing this, though sparse studies of the stranger in Africa are available, the chapter presents an analysis, which shows the place of rituals and cultural rites as key to determining who is seen or taken as a stranger. In the second section, since the present volume focuses on the philosophy of difference in relation to the othering of the other, the notions of the “other” and othering, as well as the analysis of the emergence of the other in the process of othering are examined. The point made in this regard is that the other emerged in the process that leads to the construction of one’s identity, which is not done in isolation but in relation to the other, who becomes othered when her life narrative is not included in the spectrum of the construction of identity that goes from the “I” to the other. The third section connects the analysis of the process of othering with that of the understanding of the stranger in Africa. It shows in this regard the basis for difference and hence what provides for the understanding of the stranger as the other in the African context. That is, through the discourse of what it describes as the epistemology of difference in Africa, the chapter makes evident the “context of belonging or belongingness” as basis on which the stranger becomes the othered. The “context of belonging or

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belongingness” to be sure refers to the rites of passage that grant the local the right of belonging and differentiate the stranger as well.

The Stranger: Western Conceptual Beginnings, African Spatial Realities Beginning with an exposition of some analysis of the stranger in, especially, Western-focused understanding of the reality of the stranger is for the obvious reason that not much has been done theoretically of the phenomenon in Africa. And so, the assumption is that examining the phenomenon as conceived and understood in the West would provide some conceptual inroads to theorizing the phenomenon in African spaces. Generally understood, the stranger – with synonyms as alien, intruder, foreigner, novus homo, newcomer, immigrant, guest, outsider, and outlander – according to William A. Shack, is one “who by reasons of custom, language, or social role, stand on the margin of society” (Shack and Skinner 1979: 1). The stranger and/or strangeness, in this guise, refers to the reality of an individual underscored by the individual’s being away from “home” and his being in a foreign land. As such, the stranger’s identity emerges as a sort of displaced identity. With this said, it is pertinent to note that it is Georg Simmel’s essay “Der Fremde” translated as “The Stranger” published in 1908 that is usually taken as the conceptual start point for engaging the discourse of the stranger, particularly in sociological studies. According to Simmel, the stranger is one who is “fixed within a particular spatial circle, or within a group whose boundaries are similar to spatial boundaries. . . . his position in this group is determined, essentially, by the fact the he has not belonged to it from the beginning [and] that he imports qualities into it which do not and cannot, stem from the group itself” (Georg Simmel, as quoted in W. A. Shack and E. P. Skinner 1979: 1). In analyzing Simmel’s description of the stranger, Everett Stonequist stated that: The stranger, [Simmel] writes, first appears as a trader, one who is not fixed in space, yet settles for a time in the community – a “potential wanderer.” He unites in his person the qualities of “nearness and remoteness, concern and indifference.” . . . This conception of the stranger pictures him as one who is not intimately and personally concerned with the social life about him. His relative detachment frees him from the self-consciousness, the concern for status, and the divided loyalties of the marginal man. (Stonequist 1937: 117ff)

What becomes evident from the foregoing is that two contexts provide the ground on which Simmel’s conception of the stranger may be understood: these are (i) geographical context and (ii) the context of sociocultural beliefs, practices, and customs. Whereas the geographical context provides a physical boundary within which the stranger is defined, the sociocultural context locates the stranger within a worldview or belief system, usually of the host group. What is significant in the latter context is that the stranger is conceived and understood in relation to being fixed within a particular space or group, whose boundaries are similar to spatial

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boundaries. In defining the stranger, therefore, his identity is impacted by the reality that he has not been part of the group or spatial boundary to which he is a stranger from its (the group) beginnings. (For ease of presentation of ideas, I have used the masculine pronoun to refer to the stranger where appropriate.) Given this, whether as seen in the context of a spatial boundary or otherwise, the stranger, in the literature, is portrayed as the wanderer or potential wanderer, who, although, is yet to move, has not quite overcome the tendency of “coming and going” (sees Georg Simmel in Wolff 1950). Seen, in literature, as a wanderer, he is one who imports alien precepts and values, dispositions and attitudes, and beliefs and practices, which do not stem from the group itself, into such group or spatial boundary. A principal point of interest here is that though the stranger may have some spatial presence as a member of a group, he still remains alien to the group since his spatial presence does not grant him sociocultural membership of the group, such that he is one who occupies a position of being both near and far, familiar and foreign (McLemore 1970: 86). In his analysis of the phenomenon of the social status of strangers, Simmel was not concerned, as he puts it, with “the wanderer who comes today and goes tomorrow,” but rather with the stranger “who comes today and stays tomorrow” (Levine 1971: 143). This is because the stranger who came one day and remained the next symbolized a synthesis of the boundaries of both spatial and social relations. Remoteness and nearness, indifference, and involvement were, as Simmel reasoned, explicit characteristics of the nature of the stranger’s life and activities, which were primarily, though not exclusively, economic in nature. Thus, the Simmelian stranger refers to the inner man, who participates and shares in the life and experiences of the local, albeit as an outer, wandering, social, and cultural man who in most cases is excluded and marginalized from what is considered the “mainstream.” This leaves the Simmelian stranger as an “in-between,” whose identity is captured by the tension between the realities of his spatial presence and sociocultural distance in relation to the group, which makes him both an outsider and an insider: as an insider, he participates in the life – economic, religious, and social – of the group; and as an outsider, he remains appended to the group as his participation in the life of the group is defined by his status as a stranger. K. Wolff captures this in stating that “the stranger’s position is that it is composed of certain measures of nearness and distance” (Wolff 1950: 403). Having made a few remarks regarding Simmel’s concept of the stranger, it is pertinent to add here that Simmel’s understanding of the stranger, one that had pertained specifically to a social (outer and external) type of the stranger, has remained the account on which a number of latter discussions are based, thus, generating quite a significant literature of interpretations of the stranger. One such important and early interpretation of the stranger is Robert Park’s The Marginal Man. In the work, Park is taken to have altered Simmel’s concept of the stranger to explain the urban-cultural experiences of European immigrants in the United States. The analysis, in this regard, is that influenced by the experiences of ethnic minorities in places of culture contact in America, Park read Simmel’s “stranger” as the marginal man, who is a hybrid of race and culture – a racial and cultural type. In this vein, he sees the stranger as a marginal man who lives in two worlds, who

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aspires to but is excluded from full membership in the group. He lives in accord with, and participates in, the customs and traditions of two different groups that never entirely fuse. And so, Park’s marginal man is one who is neither a newly arrived migrant or foreigner nor person completely assimilated into the new society; he is somewhere between the two conditions of having his strongly held beliefs confronted and disdained and his being compelled to live in a different cultural setting, where his personality “becomes unstable and assumes particular behavioural patterns” (Dictionary of Race, Ethnicity and Culture). In response to Park’s early interpretation of Simmel’s stranger, there has emerged a flurry of analyses that seems to evaluate Park’s “marginal man” as a different analysis of the reality of strangeness from that of Simmel’s stranger. In this vein, Everett Verner Stonequist, in his extended study of Park’s The Marginal Man, argued that Park’s marginal man is not identical with Simmel’s stranger. He observed, in this vein, that the distinctive properties of the stranger identified by Simmel are lost once an individual becomes a marginal man, that is, in transforming Simmel’s stranger conceived as the outer man, who is defined by the spatial realities of not belonging to the group from its inception, to the marginal man represented as the inner man, who struggles with a displaced self, resulting from the tension between the devaluation of his beliefs and being required to espoused those of the host group. One distinctive property lost here is the externality of Simmel’s stranger, who is a social type. In a similar vein, Alvin Boskoff, commenting on the adaptation of Simmel’s concept by Park, observed that he (Park) applied the concept of the stranger to the phenomena of migration and culture contact in complex societies, whereas Simmel’s application was in regard to the stranger being socially estranged. For Boskoff, in applying Simmel’s concept of the stranger, Park posits the various kinds of socially deviant behaviors that were a manifestation of the experiences of persons who, by migrating, had given up own values although they are yet to acquire the norms and values of host. In this reading and application of Simmel’s concept of the stranger, it becomes obvious that Park altered Simmel’s concept: that is, Park’s “marginal man” represents a different conception of the stranger from that of Simmel’s external stranger. Whereas Park’s “marginal man” is excluded and depicted as experiencing inner instability and restlessness, Simmel’s stranger, occupying an externally determined position in relation to the group, is displaced, a wanderer, and having an altered identity. As Simmel’s stranger, in contrast to Park’s, does not aspire to be assimilated, he is a potential wanderer, who has not quite got over the freedom of coming and going. And so, as it appears, Simmel talks of the stranger as a social and external type; Park talks of the stranger as a cultural type. In what Vince Marotta in “The Stranger and Social Theory” refers to as revisionist literature, the analysis of the stranger has moved beyond the Simmelian understanding of the stranger and its presuppositions. Such revisionist literature includes Simonetta Tabboni (1995) “The Stranger and Modernity: From Equality of Rights to Recognition of Difference”; Tibor Dessewffy (1996) “Strangerhood without Boundaries: An Essay in the Sociology of Knowledge”; Rudolf Stichweh (1997) “The Stranger – On the Sociology of Indifference”; and Zygmunt Bauman (1998),

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Work, Consumerism and the New Poor. Tibor Dessewffy, for instance, presents an extended understanding of the stranger that sees the stranger as the inner, introverted, psychological, anxious, and alienated self (Dessewffy 1996). Also, in Bauman, the focus was on the nature and treatment of the social and cultural stranger in the west, especially those seen to have been excluded from an increasingly globalized society. Bauman’s approach, which is particularly interesting, sees the stranger in the context of postmodernism. In his analysis of the poor in consumer capitalist system, Trevor Hogan describes Bauman’s works as part of significant number of works that examine the phenomenon of poverty in the context of capitalism, rather than from a sociological and political point of view (Hogan 1998: 153–154). The poor, in Bauman’s writings, is disadvantaged and impoverished and becomes the “social other,” who is the new (postmodern) stranger. For him, the contemporary consumerist society arises as the embodiment of the alienating and depriving canons of the self of the poor, characteristic of consumer life (Bauman 1998: 75). In this understanding, the poor does not only refer to those who experience material depravity but also includes those whose social and psychological situations are of those that have been excluded from what counts as the standard life. The import of this is that: [i]n a consumer society the poor are socially constructed, and self-defined, first and foremost as blemished, defective, faulty and deficient – in other words, inadequate, flawed consumers. The ‘flawed consumers’ are those who want to be ‘successful’ but because of their economic and social conditions can only dream of changing their identity. These ‘flawed consumers’ are not the modern strangers who destabilized borders erected by modernity’s will-to-order. Rather, the ‘flawed consumers’ or the ‘new poor’ are postmodern strangers because they are the by-products of the ‘never concluding process of identity building.’ (Marotta 2000: 122)

As such, in his examination of the phenomenon of strangeness, Bauman highlights some of the recurring and key themes that define the self of the stranger in contemporary social theory. These themes include such as alienation, identity politics, alterity, and hybridity. It is these themes that draw the contrast between the inner stranger and outer stranger in Bauman’s construction of the postmodern stranger. To be sure, it is the inner (self) stranger that Rene J. Muller in The Marginal Self: An Existential Inquiry into Narcissism (1987) had earlier categorized as the existential marginal self, contending that the alienated subject is that self that has lost the protection that comes from being an integral member of the group and as a result is a disoriented and drifting self. For Muller, however, the outer stranger may not experience the existential angst that seems to be at the heart of the inner stranger, while the inner stranger may not necessarily be a member of the excluded group. Other theoretical discussions of the stranger regard, for instance, the discourse of the stranger in human geography and the broader social sciences. One of such analyses includes Lyn Lofland’s A World of Strangers (1973); another is Lesley D. Harman’s The Modern Stranger: On Language and Membership (1998). Focusing on the idea of the stranger in the city, Lofland argued that the modern city was the product of a general shift in the way in which society deals with the presence of strangers in public space. Lofland, however, suggested that what changed was the dominant source of information that influenced how society viewed and categorized

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the stranger. Influenced by this work, Harman explored how the concept of the stranger evolved through the twentieth century as urban life and demographics shifted. Harman argued that in the more recent era of residential mobility and social diversity, the stranger may be better seen as a cosmopolitan, expert navigator, moving between and making sense of the different communities in which she or he temporarily resides. It is Lofland’s approach to the stranger that has however some significant influence as regards the birth of other recent ideas about the stranger, including considerations of how we “talk” to strangers (see Allen 2004), as well as considerations of the way in which strangers might indeed be familiar (see Ahmed 2000). Some other accounts of the stranger have further highlighted contemporary concerns including multiculturalism (see Amin 2012) and international migration (see Chambers 2013). For instance, Ash Amin’s Land of Strangers (2012) looks at the collapse of close social ties and the habits of modern living which indicate an increase in “strangeness” brought about by migration, changes in community, and multicultural policies. To be sure, Amin’s work emphasized the link between the stranger in the city and “the stranger” or “strangeness” as an identity marker, most prominently of the migrant in urban encounters. Turning attention now to the analysis of the stranger in the context of the African experience, it is instructive to note that despite the many available analyses regarding the stranger, especially from the West, theoretical discussions on “the stranger” with respect to African spaces are sparse. (One important study of the stranger in the context of Africa is the edited volume by W. A. Shack and E. P. Skinner (1979).) To begin, the phenomenon of strangerhood or strangeness has been an indisputable aspect of the African experience and lived world that an analysis of it reveals important details of the social life of locals in African societies. To this end, an informative point to look for the purpose of an analysis of the stranger in African spaces is the culture, tradition, and customs of Africans. And the rather apt aspects of African culture that may serve the above purpose of an analysis of the stranger are traditional rites and customs, especially, and the beliefs accompanying them; indeed, these are the bases on which encounters with the stranger are usually negotiated. As such, these customs and traditional beliefs provide the framework within which an understanding of the stranger in African spaces is more evident. Before getting into an analysis of the stranger in Africa spaces, it may be noted here that the ritual and ceremonial processes of the sort which create the spatial boundary wherein the stranger is located and from which the relationship to the host group is determined may be seen to be implied in earlier Western-focused understanding of the stranger, such as in Simmel’s and Park’s. In this vein, Simmel’s external and socially conceived analysis of the stranger as one who has not been a member of the group from its inception, for instance, squares with the African understanding of strangeness as the condition that describes the reality of those who live in secluded settlements. (An instance of such settlements reserved for stranger is Sabon Gari. This, in Hausa language, means “new town” or “quarters for strangers.” It is usually a section of cities and town in Northern Nigeria, South Central Niger, and Northern Cameroon, whose residents are not indigenous to Hausa lands. In fact, Sabon Gari is a permanent community of strangers segregated from the indigenous population that

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had existed in Northern Nigeria and other parts of West Africa long before the arrival of the British at around 1900.) But it is Park’s analysis that provides a bit more inroad for an African exposition of the stranger given that culture has an intricate place in Park’s conception of the stranger as the marginal man. In this vein, the stranger in Africa is the culturally alienated self, who, though participates of the life of the community, never becomes a full member of such community. To get into the analysis of the stranger in African spaces, let me state that in the majority of African societies, and virtually all simple societies with meagre subsistence lifestyles, kinship norms inform the sort of relations in such societies. Together with this, the right of belongingness, which is almost invariably based upon such reality as having been initiated through the rites of passage that has kinship referent in ritual rites as age group initiation, is key to understanding who passes for the stranger in African spaces. (Rites of passage are rites that have to do with the human life cycle. They are practices, customs, and ceremonies that performed to move people smoothly through the stages of life from beginning to end. These stages include birth and childhood, puberty, marriage, aging, and death.) It was, indeed, initiation rites as those of, say, the Xhosa people of the Eastern Cape Province of South Africa, where a young Xhosa boy, with his body smeared with gray clay, sits in the bush for 4 weeks as part of a manhood initiation rite, where they are usually circumcised in the first day and are not allowed to eat for the first 7 days, that initiated the locals into the life of the community, as well as kept the stranger, who had not gone through such rites of initiation, distant. And so, in African spaces, rituals are seen to define more clearly the character of social relations and, by extension, the status and place of the stranger from that of the local. The Yorubas of Western Nigeria have a saying that typifies the place of the stranger in relation to the host, on the basis of the rites and rituals that he (host) performs, Su´n mohùn-u´n, a fée ṣorò ilé-e wa, kι í je kálejò di onílé, given in English as “Move aside; we are about to perform some secret rites of our lineage,” and keeps a sojourner from becoming a member of the household. The import of this is that the exclusion of the stranger from the intimate and secret nature of the rites and rituals of a people is to remind him that he does not belong to the group. The African stranger, then, in this context, and using Simmelian description, is one who came and stayed in societies other than his (although, there was also the sort of stranger “who came today and was gone the next”); though he is expected to participate in the daily life of the people (the host), accepting its (the host group’s) ways, there are obvious limits to how he is seen as part of the community. Again, from the Yorubas of Western Nigeria, a proverb to describe this says, Omi àjèj. tó wolu´, pípare ní ńpare, which may be rendered in the English as “whatever strange water enters a town inevitably disappears.” Among the locals, this is usually interpreted to mean that a newcomer or stranger to a community ought to adapt to the ways of the community or face the consequences that may result from choosing to do otherwise. A sort of follow-up proverb that may be seen in the saying Máa lọ, àlej kι í ti ẹnu onílé wá, that is, in English, “stranger, it is time you departed,” does not come from the mouth of a host. What this is usually taken to mean is that a stranger ought to know when she or he is no longer welcomed. Taken in this sense,

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the appearance of the stranger in Africa may be traced to the occurrences of individuals and groups who formed settler communities on the basis of occupational specialties in societies other than theirs. This resulted from quite a great deal of movements from one society to another; in fact, it was movements as this – movements of early nonlocal settlers – into societies other than theirs (strangers) that provide knowledge of the sort of ritual processes that produced the stranger in traditional African societies. Insight as to the place of rituals and cultural rites in defining the stranger in African spaces may be drawn from the work of Arnold van Gennep, who called attention to the special character and relevance of rituals in traditional autochthonous societies, such as in Africa (see van Gennep 1909, translated by M. Vizedom and G. Caffee, 1960). In the light of this, and to the extent that M. Gluckman has remarked that the sort of rituals Gennep investigated are not the kind compatible with the structure of modem urban life (Gluckman 1962: 37), it may be said that the sort of spatial relations that were key to Simmel’s conception of the stranger is de-emphasized in van Gennep’s work; what is emphasized are the types of rituals and ceremonies that gave a different status to the local from the stranger. To be sure, the local had a fully integrated identity that emerged from such rites and rituals, whereas the stranger found his status lying somewhere between that of an alien and that of a local. The difference in status of the local and the stranger was what created a “gap” in the identities of the local and the host. As a result of the “distance” between the stranger and host, necessitated by the rituals and ceremonies by which the locals had their “rite of passage,” African strangers in tribal or pre-colonial African societies were neither “here” nor “there.” They did not enjoy the same rights and privileges as those of the locals as these (rights and privileges) were an exclusive reserve for locals and were often made available to such as a consequence of the right of belongingness. It should be noted here, as an aside though, that the colonial incursion in the continent of African altered, symbolically and in reality, the social and spatial boundaries between the stranger and the local. In short, it could be said that though the style of colonial administration was different for different peoples in Africa, it (the style of administration) incorporated peoples who were, before the emergence of such administration, strangers, as “indigenes,” by coercive administrative fiat. In other words, colonial administration created “open” social systems principally premised on the expediency of political and economic administrative functions and duties. And so, it is claimed that the alien system of colonial administration disregarded the pre-colonial and traditional insider-outsider status positions which differentiated strangers and locals, except in instances where recognition was useful to foreign administration. In short, strangers and their previous hosts were viewed by European administrators in the same social terms of reference. With the foregoing said, a correct representation of the reality at the time of colonial administration however reveals that despite the altered outcome of the stranger-host relation necessitated by the style of colonial administration, social distinctions by, and between, Africans were still very real, though overt expressions of such distinctions through hostile acts never received official sanction. The withdrawal of colonial

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administration and the attainment of African self-governance brought in its wake the distance between the local and the stranger that had been collapsed as a result of colonial presence in Africa. It was, indeed, precisely the ritual and symbolic processes which were set in motion in post-independence Africa that resulted in the widespread expulsion of strangers, especially African strangers, from newly created independent African states.

The Other, Othering, and the Emergence of the Othered From the foregoing section, a few insights regarding the reality of stranger in Africa begin to emerge. The present section aims to provide further grounds for examining the condition of the stranger as the “other” by turning attention to the notions of “othering,” the “other,” and the “othered.” Another intent of focus of this section is to provide the conceptual materials and to examine the relation between the process of othering and the epistemology of difference, which is the focus of the next section. In the literature, the birth of the “other” is necessitated by the stereotyping of individuals, who are taken to occupy the peripherals of society. This stereotyping is characterized by differentiating the self from others in ways typified by a projection of the self’s conception of the other’s identity. As such, the other emerges as an outsider, who is socially, and by status, distant from the local. It is these outsiders that are conceptually referred to as the “other.” And so, conceptually understood as the “other,” the identity characterization of such individuals is peripheral to that taken as mainstream and represented by a conventionally constructed identity. In this vein, the “other,” as socially constructed, is assigned an identity seen to occupy the peripherals of society; and one of such peripherals is that of “the stranger.” To be noted here is that assigning an identity to an individual that results in his being othered or stereotyped involves a process. This processing of othering, in the context of this study, refers to that which describes the route to self-definition, wherein the “other” emerges as a by-construct of that process (Reicher 2007). In this vein, the attempt to construct the social identity for own groups in contradistinction to other groups helps to elucidate the processes of othering. To put it differently, identity formation is the result of a dialectical relationship that the self of an individual or a group has with an “other.” In a patriarchal society, for example, the male identity emerges through a dialectical relation with the female one, to which it becomes dominant, as it (male identity) provides the standard or norms, which women as the “other” are expected to follow. To be sure, these norms feed into the formation of women’s identities. In this vein, the “other” is “another self: a mirror and a foil” (Benbassa and Attias 2004). This, to be noted here, reveals another aspect of othering: it is often a process by the powerful over the weak. (The other is not necessarily a numerical minority. However, all minority groups rank lower in social power compared to the majority group which not only occupies but also controls the center. There are diverse arenas in which the game of othering is played out.) The assumption in this context is that if the “other” is not defamed, securing positive identity for oneself or one’s own group may be a little less possible. As such, the

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“other” is often the construct of, and by, the powerful. It is not that the weak does not create the “other”; othering by the weak rarely, if ever, converts into generalized stigma, and its disparagement of the other is accepted widely. From the foregoing, it is obvious that it is in opposition to the other that the self is constructed. It is to be noted, however, that the process implicated in differentiation between the self and the other is not the same as othering. Othering implicates exclusion and overlooks similarities; that is, it involves a denial of rights and entitlements of the other on the grounds of an orientation that permits the privileged to preserve supremacy over those othered (Mahalingam 2003). Sue Wilkinson and Celia Kitzinger in Representing the other: A Feminism & Psychology Reader (1996) see the process of othering taking place when the self creates an image (of the other) of “what it is not” and “what it does not want to be.” As such, the boundaries which separate the “self” from the “other” are qualitatively different. The “other” is that which cannot be accessed from within one’s schema of life, be that of an individual or of a collective. Othering, however, puts aside and ignores the complexity and subjectivity of the individual by objectifying the other (Abdallah-Pretceille 2006). In behavioral studies, it is argued that the other is not discovered but created by a process that involves the selection of certain aspects of the other’s lives. Psychologists, for instance, believe that the human mind functions on the basis of differentiation and categorization. In line with this, a number of interesting experiments have been performed by Henri Tajfel and his colleagues employing what is called a Minimum Group Paradigm (Tajfel and Turner 1979). The experiments showed how psychological processes of differentiation and categorization create and set apart a group or groups as different from an individual’s own group from which he derives his social identity. In this regard, the other comes to be created as a result of the interplay of two processes: (i) ascription and (ii) inscription. Whereas ascription refers to the attribution of values, norms, beliefs, and practices that are created, to an “other” (individual or group), inscription describes a process that results in the internalization of certain values, beliefs, and practices as belonging to one’s own group (Pierik 2004). On this view, the two processes of ascription and inscription together constitute the process of othering and create the other as a product. Thus, own groups and those of others come to be created, with clear-cut boundaries drawn between “we” and “they” through the process of othering. The resulting “they” is not distinguished on the basis of being different but on the basis of being the “other.” And so, in revealing how the other conceptually emerges from self-conception, the process of self-conception of own identity is not an isolated/solitary event but a process that occurs in dialogue with the identities of others, particularly in how the other’s identities are received. To put it simply, our differentiated selves that emerge from our self-conceptions are always in reference to the “other.” This process of selfconception wherefrom the differentiated self emerges runs on a spectrum that goes from the self to the “other,” such that in self-conceiving who we are (our identities), the differentiated self is the residue of some self-contained identities believed to have their respective essential properties that separate the self from the “other,” allowing the “other” to also emerge as our identity emerges. In the light of this, the “other” is othered when we do not incorporate in the process wherefrom our self-conception

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emerges – the spectrum that runs from the self to the “other” – the “life narrative” of the “other.” That is, the process of self-conception results in othering the “other” when our conceptions trump that of the “other,” by failing to include their life narratives. What happens in this regard is that the epistemic spectrum going from the self to the “other” is ruptured and results in a dissonance in our conception of the “other” and their self-conception through their life narratives. Put simply, the other is othered when the process of self-conception does not include the life narratives of the “other” that is supposed to make available their self-conception. This is because our conceptions of the “other” and their life narratives are supposed to converge if such conceptions are not to result in the othering of the “other.” To be sure, the emergence of the identity of the “other” is tied to the life narrative of the “other,” which is the personal stories they tell of their lived-world experiences. These life narratives are meant to serve the purpose of a framework through which knowledge of others is garnered. As such, in the process where we conceive our identities – a process that is not in isolation but in relation to the “other” – we are required to attend to the histories, lives, and experiences of others that are often different from ours and often stand in contrast to how we conceive of them and have created their identities. To therefore address the problematic of othering, it is pertinent that the life narratives of the “other” be taken as epistemological tool that is supposed to be an integral part of the process of self-conception. From the foregoing, a downside to othering is that it is structured by assumptions that suppress or devalue important social differences. Of course, it is impossible to construe concepts without ignoring some differences or taking some of such differences as marginal. That is, it is almost impossible, if not entirely impossible, to conceptualize of difference as to be all-inclusive. Be that as it may, the recognition of the conceptual difficulty in constructing an all-inclusive understanding of difference does not amount to diverse conceptual strategies being equally defensible with regard to difference. Rather, it implies that social theorist must think hard about what sorts of differences matter in talking about difference, why, and the potential impact of particular theoretical strategies for understanding the discourse of difference and othering. Furthermore, the process of othering must be understood as a prerogative of the self as it is the self that controls the process of meaning making. This position allows the self to “globalize” the self’s narrative of the other; and it is this version which forms the collective memory. This helps to portray a purpose which the process of othering serves, viz., to consolidate power relations between groups through production of knowledge about otherness. Another purpose may be to protect the positive distinctiveness of one’s identity. The import of the above is that othering is often the effect of some power play and dominance struggle. This is especially the case when such power play and struggle for dominance involves groups and/or individuals sharing the same social structure and social history. As such, othering results from the manner groups, minority groups in particular, are situated within such social structure. The argument made so far has been that othering is a perceptual phenomenon. That is, the process that results in the othering of the “other” implicates conceptual images of the “other” as being influenced and conditioned by mental realities

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regarding the “other.” By this understanding, othering is a process of social psychological construction and social representation which form the ground for social structure. What this means is that the “other” is a figment of the kind of mental processes that we enter into in the attempt to conceive of our identity and not necessary a representation of the other’s identity. Aside from this understanding of othering as a perceptual phenomenon, othering may also be cognized from the viewpoint of ontology. In this vein, othering is a reality, a state of being that defines a relationship involving the self, the “other,” and the distance between them; it is the relation of the “we” and “they.”

Othering and the Epistemology of Difference in Africa Having examined the concepts of the “other,” “othering,” and the “othered,” the present section turns attention to relation between “othering” and the epistemology of difference. The intent in this is to underscore the process of othering in relation to the epistemology of difference in Africa. In doing this, it emphasizes that the bases for differentiating the host from the stranger are the right of belongingness, brought about by the host’s partaking of the rites of passage. It is on the basis of this that the stranger is separated as the “other.” Difference, phenomenally, connotes, at least in plain terms, the way “things” are unlike one another. For instance, the biological sciences tell us that at the level of physiology, no two individuals are the same and that there is some uniqueness about each individual, such that to talk of difference regarding humans at this level is a statement of the obvious. Indeed, the use of fingerprints for signatory and identification validates the claim of the unique difference of each individual. Within the context of the discourse of othering, however, the notion of difference assumes further meaning beyond how things are dissimilar from one another. In modern global society, the discourse of difference has become inescapable. This issue revolves around determining how social differences, for example, differences of religion, age, race, ethnicity, ableness, sexuality, gender, class, and nationality, are to be understood, especially without othering the “other,” who is usually viewed as different on one or more of the abovementioned qualities. On the one hand, conceptualizing difference may be viewed as simply creating social variations of a common humanity or producing diversity within a unified social system. On the other hand, such conceptions of difference may run deep and override similarities, thereby troubling notions of human commonality and social unity. Though strangeness, and with it “difference” and “otherness,” may be traced back to the rise of the city-state in antiquity (as earlier noted in the section “Introductory Remarks” of this chapter), the emergence of the phenomenon in modern social discourse is traced to the inauguration of the age of globalization evident in the exploration and commerce of the twelfth-century Europe, marked by the theoretical and political encounter with different or strange cultures and civilizations. Indeed, modern social thought regarding strangeness (difference) originated, at least in part, and took the form that it has, from the efforts to understand these social differences

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(Hodgen 1964; Seidman 1983). A type of this effort is seen in the works of the eighteenth-century European thinkers who developed a stage theory of social evolution and progress of human society (Bury 1955; Meek 1976; Nisbet 1970). For these scholars, the analysis was that “[a]ll societies, past and present, were arranged in a temporal, hierarchical evolutionary pattern. Past societies represented a ‘primitive’ state of humankind, while the new industrializing societies represented the most ‘advanced’ conditions of humanity” (Seidman 1997: 3). By this understanding, Western thinkers conceived difference within the framework of social hierarchy and progress: difference suggested the inferiority or transience of the “otherness” of primordial societies. Viewed in the context of the twelfth-century Enlightenment assumptions about grundnorm, a single narrative of progress, and transcendent notions of knowledge, the understanding of difference and strangeness that emerges from the hierarchical structure of society as conceived by early European scholars is stretched to an identity-based configuration of others. As such, in the context of othering, difference describes the process of stereotyping individuals who are considered a deviation from conventions, conventions that are often socially constructed. (The “Enlightenment” can be perceived as a cultural movement originating in the West since the eighteenth century, as an ideal for the human community yet to be fully realized, or as a mentality characteristic of the modernistic modus operandi throughout the world, especially in Cultural China.) The result of this is that such individuals are put in tagged categories and are seen to occupy spaces outside and peripheral to that taken as the standard and mainstream by the same convention that stereotypes them. It is instructive to say here that how the discourse of the epistemology of difference in Africa is understood may be likened to the nature of the relation between the assumptions that informed the twelfth-century Enlightenment project of standards (of meaning, say) and the very actual ways such meanings regarding, for instance, the identities of the stranger were construed. Put differently, how the stranger is perceived, and so othered, is advised by certain assumptions (for instance, that there is an objective and standard to the understanding of what it means to be an integral member of a group). In this vein, and in regard to the epistemology of difference in Africa, there are beliefs that are the undercurrents informing the spatial and conceptual distance between the stranger and the local. In this context, the undercurrent, assumption, or belief that informs the distance between the local as an insider and the stranger as an outsider is “belongingness.” And so, the core to understanding difference and the stranger as othered, so to speak, is the idea of “belonging” or “belongingness.” This is key to how “difference” is underscored in the context of this chapter and in relation to the epistemology of difference in Africa. In theorizing difference in African spaces, therefore, it is pertinent to note that the construction of who a stranger is in the African context largely depends on the extent to which an individual may participate in the life of the community. In this sense, the idea of the stranger or strangeness is much intertwined with that of belongingness, which implies the acquisition of what is needed to fulfil the individual’s integration into a particular community. This, in most African spaces, is provided for by various rites of

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initiation. This is so because the extent to which the individual could participate in the life of the community was a function of whether he had undergone the rites of passage of that community, such as age group rites. This is because it is through the participation in such rites that the individual begins to share in and has full right to the life of the community, as it is these (rites) that provide the individual with a sense of belonging to the community. As such, it is through such rites that the individual has the right to share of the nationality and in the history, as well as the values and visions of the group. From the foregoing, the epistemology of difference examines how knowledge of the status of the local and the stranger is implicated in the othering of the stranger as the other. It normatively examines the rationale undergirding the othering of others, thereby identifying the epistemic challenge or problematic with othering. In this vein and in taking difference as an objectified status – the context wherein the polarizing categories of subject-object are applied to produce an “us and them” mentality – the epistemology of difference underscores how the process of othering results in an objectified other. As such, and in relation to the stranger as a peripheral identity in society, the other as “different” refers to individuals whose identity did not emerge and belong to such society. That is, the stranger is seen as one who is an outsider, as one who does not belong to such society. In the light of this, the conceptualization of the “stranger” as different and othered implicates the notion of belongingness: indeed, it is because the individual is seen as not belonging to the society that such individual is taken to be an outsider and a stranger. From the viewpoint of ontological commitments, the harmony that defines the relation among beings in the structure of reality of the African provides, for the African, the foreground for engaging his lived world. All the rites and rituals from birth till death are associated with maintaining both this harmony and the individual African’s place in it. And so, for the African, all those are strangers, and so are different and are the “other,” who are not individuated in the same ontological reality through the rites of initiation in a given community. The justification of the process of construing the otherness of the other is to create one’s own cultural and social space, as well as deny the same to members of the other group, the stranger. In this context, the assumption is that unless such othering are attained, the undifferentiated accessibility to the life of the community by those considered insiders and those who stand at the periphery poses some threat to the purity of the life of the community. And so, the other, othering, and otherness involve spatial dimension; the constructed other is not proximate but some “distance” away from the “we” boundaries. Otherness comes when conditions of group membership are not fulfilled which are based on sharing the same history and, therefore, the same collective memory, possessing the same ideology and beliefs, and subscribing to the same norms and practices, all of which give a group its social identity. It also comes as a result of not sharing the same ontological commitment as a result of partaking in the same rites and rituals. Once such a construction of otherness comes about, the other comes to be represented as an outsider. The boundaries between the self and the other are erected so as to create a positive identity for self.

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Concluding Remarks The discussion so far regarding the stranger, the other, how he is othered, and the epistemology of difference in Africa makes evident a number of realities with respect to the place of the stranger with particular reference to Africa. First, the stranger is one who is domiciled in a space other than his “home”; he is one who came to a foreign land and stayed. Second, the stranger is what he is as a result of his standing in relation to the customs and culture of the host community. Third, cultural beliefs and practices, as well as customs, are central to the life of the African, especially in defining key aspects (such as marriage, heritance) of the life of the African, how he relates with others and how he views the world. What this implies therefore is that in the exposure of locals to increasingly different beliefs and practices, customs, and lifestyles necessitated by increased mobility across geographically different spaces in Africa, the locals and host communities are required to navigate competing beliefs and practices, attitudes, conviction, and worldviews brought about by the presence of strangers. As regards being defined by his status in the community, that is, by his standing in relation to the customs of the host community, the stranger’s place is the peripheral and margins of society. In the literature, whether portrayed as the potential wanderer, who, although has not moved on, has not quite overcome the freedom of coming and going, or as the dislocated and restless individual in a bicultural or multicultural world, and alienated from the self, or as the new poor in the postmodern world, or as one who remains estranged from the life of the community on the grounds of customs and beliefs, the stranger is a peripheral man, whose identity is construed from the fact that his position is at the margins of society. As such, he remains distant from the host within a particular spatial group or within a group whose boundaries are similar to spatial boundaries. His position in such group is determined, essentially, by the fact that he has not belonged to it from the beginning and that he imports qualities into it, which do not and cannot stem from the group itself. In the light of this, it is pertinent to say here that the construction of a stranger “depends on national historical contexts, core values and related visions of the society” (Harris et al. 2016). That is, the national histories, experiences, and social diversity of groups impact on the ways individuals and peoples are construed as strangers. And so, the stranger is one who is housed in a space other than his; he is a foreigner who lives in a land different from his homeland. Indeed, two contexts are relevant to conceptualize the stranger: the geographical context that locates him within a spatial boundary and the sociocultural context which locates him within a nonspatial identity boundary. As such, the stranger, say, a social type, is one who shares the same physical space and so close, but is socially and culturally distant; he is viewed as “the other.” As the “other,” the stranger’s identity emerges from a process that excludes the other’s self-concept or life narrative. Thus, othering describes the process of construing the identity of the stranger in ways that leave him at the edges of society: physically, he shares only in aspects of the life of the host, and socioculturally, he is estranged and does not belong to the host community. The stranger is therefore conceived as different.

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In theorizing difference in African spaces, the chapter notes that the construction of who a stranger is in the African context largely depends on the extent to which an individual may participate in the life of the community, given that the participation in the life of a community depends on the extent to which one can and has shared the life of the community through key rites of initiation, such as age group. In fact, it is through such rites that an individual acquires a reference of belonging to a community. And it is this that aids the sharing of national histories, core values, and related visions by the members of a community, as it is to these that individuals are initiated. And so, the core to understanding the stranger, so to speak, is the idea of “belonging” to the group. This is key to how “difference” is theorized in the chapter and in regard to the stranger. This is provided for by cultural beliefs, practices, and customs, which are central to the life of the African, in terms of how he lives his life, how he relates with others, and how he views the world. In this vein, the epistemology of difference stipulates the sort of knowledge that is to emerge in the encounter of persons considered different. That is, it identifies the path to be espoused by the host in the navigation of encounters with the stranger if the former’s cognition of the latter’s identity is to rightly emerge in the self-cognitive process of the latter. This gives the idea of how we define who is different from ourselves and how we negotiate relationships with “others.” This is increasingly significant given the role of shared spaces that provide opportunities for encounters between strangers. In this vein, the stranger, who becomes an externalized “other,” is construed as a different other on the grounds of what I, here, call epistemic unknownness. This refers to the lack of any rationally construed notion, belief, and assumption, regarding a given reality, in this instance, the stranger. This may arise from the unpredictability of the stranger as “people come already primed with culturally learned assumptions and weightings” (Douglas 1992: 58). This epistemic unknownness is usually marked by the stranger’s distinctness, which serves as marker of his difference. And so, the stranger’s categorization only marks the projection of our internalized ignorance upon an externalized other, identified by his visible or social difference (Alexander 2013). The unknownness about the stranger’s difference may be characterized by a sense of unsureness and the possibility of the stranger’s introduction of “unknown” values and practices into our “known” world. Strangers, then, are seen as “not like us” which constitutes the very unknownness they represent (Sandercock 2000). Although discussions regarding the stranger highlight its changing nature, making it a significant conceptual tool for analyzing social processes of individual and group exchanges, the concept remains conceptually challenging, especially in discussion regarding the socially constructed nature of the stranger, as well as the role of national, historical, and sociocultural contexts in forming attitudes toward the stranger in different settings (Shack and Skinner 1979: 2). The nature of this changing reality of the condition of the stranger is further exacerbated by intensified mobility across geographically different spaces in Africa, leading to the exposure of locals to increasingly different beliefs and practices, customs, and lifestyles, eventually to competing attitudes brought about by the presence of foreigners. Locals are therefore increasingly likely to encounter “strangers” and are therefore

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required to negotiate discontinuities and contradictions between the values that define them and those of the “stranger.”

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Othering, Re-othering, and De-othering Interrogating the Skolombo’s Fight-Back Strategy

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Challenge of Othering . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Issakaba as a Case of Out-Group Identity Construction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Re-othering: Are the Skolombo Fighting Back? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A Conversational Proposal for Strategic De-othering . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

I argue that the phenomenon of “othering” – the stratification of identities into ingroup and out-group by the norm and the consequent marginalization of the outgroup – has created another problem which can be referred to as “re-othering,” that is, when the victim of othering responds with disidentification strategy to counter identity constructed for them by the norm. I use the context of the residents – the legitimate people in the city of Calabar, Nigeria, and the Issakaba – the marginalized other, to show how negative identity construction has been used to discriminate against the homeless poor in the city of Calabar. I explore the conditions that compelled the homeless poor to reconstruct their imposed identity Issakaba to Skolombo and contend that it was a fightback strategy. I then employ a new concept, de-othering, as a conversational strategy that might be able to address the mutually opposing negative identification and disidentification constructions in Calabar specifically and in other places where similar problem emerges.

J. O. Chimakonam (*) Department of Philosophy, University of Pretoria, Pretoria, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_20

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Keywords

Othering · Re-othering · De-othering · Conversational philosophy · Calabar · Skolombo · Issakaba

Introduction Does the construction of Issakaba identity in Calabar, Nigeria, amount to othering? What are the negative effects of this identity construction on both the out-group and the in-group in Calabar Metropolis? How are the city’s homeless other fighting back? My inquiry in this chapter shall be guided by these three questions. It was Lajos Brons (2015, 69) who quotes Slavenka Drakulic as saying “I understand now that nothing but ‘otherness’ killed Jews, and it began with naming them, by reducing them to the other. Then everything became possible. Even the worst atrocities like concentration camps or the slaughtering of civilians in Croatia or Bosnia.” In this same way, it can be argued that othering is what is killing the homeless ones in Calabar, Nigeria. It all began more than a decade ago, in 2007 to be precise, when homeless street children were named Issakaba after the notorious Nollywood film which was directed by Lancelot Imasuen in 2001 that satirized extrajudicial and savage killings perpetrated at the time by an ad hoc security outfit set up by Abia and Anambra state governments of Nigeria. This outfit was composed mainly of ex-criminals who employed a barbaric method of butchering captured criminals with cutlasses in the public squares and setting their decapitated bodies ablaze. The squad was actually named Bakassi from a corruption of Igbo word bakasia which roughly translates to butchering. The Nollywood filmmakers spelt Bakassi backward to obtain Issakaba probably to avoid legal conflict with affected state governments. The Bakassi Boys garnered despicable notoriety during the years of their reign of terror, and despite the fact that they reduced crime, most people had nothing but scorn for them after their disbandment. Many families lost sons, daughters, friends, and relations, some of whom were presumed innocent during the carnage and were embittered. The hate and widespread disgust for the Bakassi Boys led to their being remembered in some quarters as “the actual criminals.” Interestingly, it is from this despicable memory that the residents of Calabar named and constructed the Issakaba identity for the city’s homeless. First, they were named Issakaba to give them undesirable characteristics of barbaric murderers, rapists, robbers, assassins, kidnappers, and criminals generally. But the facts speak to the contrary, for example, every society has its own homeless people; in many parts of the world, there are street children; most of the criminals accused of robbery, rape, murder, and kidnapping in different parts of the world including in the city of Calabar were not homeless. Thus, the identity construction which attributes all forms of criminality in Calabar to the homeless people amounts to othering. For Brons (2015, 70) “Othering is the simultaneous construction of the self or ingroup and the other or out-group in mutual and unequal opposition through identification of some desirable characteristic that the self/in-group has and the other/out-

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group lacks and/or some undesirable characteristic that the other/out-group has and the self/in-group lacks.” In the first part, I will discuss the meaning, nature, and the challenge posed by the phenomenon of othering in the twenty-first-century world. In the second part, I will focus my analysis on the specific case of the Issakaba, the subordinated other, who bravely took the responsibility to reconstruct its imposed identity to Skolombo. I will contend that Issakaba amounts to a negative identity construction aimed at othering the city’s homeless poor. In the third part, I will investigate possible counter-identity construction which tends to suggest inferiorization of the norm, that is, the residents, and the valorization of the other that reconstructed its identity to Skolombo. I will describe this counter-identity construction as re-othering. My conclusion and recommendation would be to employ conversational thinking and toy with yet another idea I will describe as de-othering. De-othering for me is when A and B do away with the negative instruments of othering and re-othering due to the consciousness of mutually assured destruction such that the idea of superior-inferior identities is eliminated and actors are reduced to the same horizontal identity formation at which they face and return the same objective attention as belonging and possessing the same identity as humans. In the event of mutually opposing identity constructions between both the in-group and the out-group, it does seem that de-othering might be a viable conversational strategy to overcoming negative identity construction.

The Challenge of Othering There are very few expressions in extant literature that best capture the challenge which the phenomenon of othering presents to the contemporary world than that by John Powell and Stephen Menendian (2016, 14). According to them, “The problem of the twenty-first century is the problem of ‘othering.”’ In a world beset by seemingly intractable and overwhelming challenges, virtually every global, national, and regional conflict is wrapped within or organised around one or more dimension of group-based difference.” This problem arises partly because of the inordinate elementary human desire to be better than others whether at group or individual levels. It is not surprising that acting on this impulse, groups and individuals end up constructing identities that preserve them as the norm in contrast to the inferior other. One idea which Brons suggests must be entertained is the psychological connection to the phenomenon of othering (2015, 70). It is biologically spurious to claim that humanity can be divided into superior and inferior identities. Thus, othering appears to be a complex psychological strategy to undermine some people we consider threatening to our economic, social, and political well-being or even people we just do not like. One Internet source states plainly that there are no others implying that othering was a cheap psychological tactic from the past. As they put it: This psychological tactic may have had its uses in our tribal past. Group cohesion was crucially important in the early days of human civilisation, and required strong demarcation

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between our allies and our enemies. To thrive, we needed to be part of a close-knit tribe who’d look out for us, in exchange for knowing that we’d help to look out for them in kind. (Anonymous, There are no Others, December 28, 2011, Web)

But if it was a cheap psychological relic from the past, why does it overwhelm the twenty-first-century world? Whichever way one turns, there is that massive shadow of othering staring, pushing, or pressing like a phenomenon that has always been part of humanity. As Brons recounts, the concept of “the other” has its roots in the work of Simone de Beauvoir’s titled Le Deuxième Sexe (1949) later translated into English as The Second Sex. In it, de Beauvoir had introduced the notion of “the other” as a construction opposing and thereby constructing “the self” (2015, 69). Similarly, the conceptualization of “othering” and its first systematic usage according to Sune Qvotrup Jensen (2011, 64) can be traced to Gayatri Spivak’s essay “The Rani of Sirmur: An Essay in Reading the Archives” (1985). However, both Brons and Jensen agree that the influence could be traced further back in time perhaps to Georg Hegel in his Phenomenology of Mind (1807). According to Brons (2015, 69), Hegel’s discussion of “master/slave dialectic” is a form of encounter between the self and the other which can only be resolved through a fight, and whoever wins becomes the master, while the person that cows out at the fear of death becomes the slave. This elementary interpretation of the notions of the self and the other eventually finds its way into the works of different thinkers especially in the twentieth century like Emmanuel Levinas (1948, 1979, 1990), Jacques Derrida (1967), Franz Fanon (1952), and Edward Said (1978) to name a few. An elaborate discussion of these thinkers is beyond the scope of this work. From the foregoing, the concept of othering eventually emerged in scholarships of different disciplines like philosophy, geography, cultural and ethnic studies, the health sciences, etc., as strategic in analyzing strained interhuman and intergroup relationships. As a result, Jensen observes that the question of othering can be understood at two levels, namely, “the idea that the power to construct identity lies with the powerful” and “the idea that identity formation can be grasped as a dichotomous relation between self/first and other” (2011, 63). At the first level, the idea of othering points to the problems of willful discrimination, marginalization, and domination of a gender by another (sexism), a race by another (racism), or a section of the society by another (classism). At the second level, it draws attention to the fact that identity construction is somehow aimed at subsuming one group perceived to be weak and inferior under another that perceives itself to be strong and superior. It is this understanding that has led to the widespread conception of othering as a divisive strategy. For example, Joy L. Johnson et al. (2004, 253) conceive othering as “a process that identifies those that are thought to be different from oneself or the mainstream, and it can reinforce and reproduce positions of domination and subordination.” Similarly, Powell and Menendian (2016, 17) see othering as “a set of dynamics, processes, and structures that engender marginality and persistent inequality across any of the full range of human differences based on group identities.” Also, Jean-Francois Staszak

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(2009, 1) views otherness/othering as “the discursive process by which a dominant ingroup (‘Us,’ the Self) constructs one or many dominated out-groups (‘Them,’ Other) by stigmatizing a difference —real or imagined —presented as a negation of identity and thus a motive for potential discrimination.” From the above definitions, we can see that othering rides on the crest of a binary formation that bifurcates people into those who belong and those who do not, superior and inferior, dominant group or the norm that sets the standard and the dominated group that must kowtow, the powerful and the powerless, etc. In bringing all this to bear on the dichotomy between residents—the legitimate people in the city of Calabar and Skolombo, the illegitimate other, I will draw my analysis in the next section to show that Issakaba was a case of out-group identity construction.

Issakaba as a Case of Out-Group Identity Construction Basically, identity constructions take place in the mind. Individuals who probably share certain characteristics like color, language, creed, ideology, or even social and economic class in common capitalize on these perceived differences to draw lines between them (in-group) and others (out-group). Such lines are mostly aimed at discriminating against those they have negatively identified as outsiders. They project themselves as the norm or standard with which to measure others. All those out-group members who could not conform to the standard are discriminated against and treated as deserving less respect and being less human and possessing less dignity. This is the case with the Issakaba of Cross River State, Nigeria, a homeless set of people who had to suffer negative identity construction from other residents of the city of Calabar. Anietie Akpan traces the history of the negative identity construction which now presents the homeless people in the city of Calabar not just as poor but as something to be despised. According to him, the city’s homeless were first branded Issakaba in 2007 (Akpan, October 10, 2015, Web). This identity was probably branded after the notorious death squad (Bakassi) that butchered many people in Abia and Anambra states of Nigeria between 1999 and around 2003. By the time the squad was disbanded, they were widely despised not only in the two states where they operated but across the country. Naming the Calabar City homeless people after this notorious death squad was a horrendous identity construction that presented an average homeless person in Calabar as public enemy number one. With time, some of them who had taken to criminal activities decided to reconstruct the identity from Issakaba to Skolombo; it was a fightback strategy which I will discuss in the next section. No one really knows the literary meaning of Skolombo nor was it adopted from any of the Nigerian languages; it seems like a meaningless term but one which by its sound alone was conceptualized to send chills down the spine. A name that has no linguistic or social history appears not only more suiting for the sort of a dreadful identity people wanted the despised homeless to have, but effectively, it

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was also the sort of daredevil timeless identity they wanted in order to strike back at the society that had despised and rejected them. There is however one clue to the origin and meaning of Skolombo as Ibanga Isine, an investigative journalist in a report published in the Premium Times, found out. An eyewitness told a story of a wave of Skolombo boys and girls numbering more than 30 who raided his neighborhood and robbed a petrol station in 2014. At the end of their operation, the leader was said to have fired shots into the sky and bellowed the name “Skolombo” to which his gang responded “obtain by force!” Another city resident further told Isine that the word skolo came from the Jamaican Patois meaning “to obtain” (Isine, March 4, 2016, Web). To confirm the etymology, I searched the word “skolo” in the online Jamaican Patois Dictionary, but it retuned “sorry, no results were found for skolo” (Anonymous, Jamaican Patwah: Patois and Slang Dictionary, Accessed, March 11, 2018. Web). One thing is clear; we now know that the Skolombo themselves ascribed the meaning “obtain by force” to their names, but whether this is stipulative or not is a matter for local linguists to sort out. Thus, if the dread which Issakaba carried made people want to despise and kill the homeless, it became urgent for the criminals among the homeless to reconstruct that identity into something more ominous in order to fight back, and Skolombo, for all intents and purposes, perfectly suits the need. This identity terrifies the people of the city no doubt, but it makes them more than anything else, to plan a higher-level violence against the Skolombo forcing the latter to move around in groups in order to ward off attackers and to defend themselves. Emmanuel Unah captures it roughly “They come from different homes, communities, local government areas and even states to congregate on the streets of Calabar and form a mobile family that is seen everywhere” (Unah, May 16, 2017. Web). What Unah did not clarify was the reason why they prefer moving in groups. Extrajudicial killing of the Skolombo popularly known as “jungle justice” by residents of Calabar is a well-reported phenomenon on various news media including on the Internet. Jungle justice is an inhumane street execution which begins with stripping naked, clubbing, and stoning of the victim by the irate crowd. When the victim has been immobilized and wounded badly, a motor tire is placed around his neck; the victim is then doused with fuel and set ablaze alive. Although some people are beginning to raise questions about the morality of jungle justice, it still remains a regular practice, and the Skolombo are the usual victims in Calabar (Odok, February 20, 2017. Web). This form of extrajudicial killing called “jungle justice” was also practiced in South Africa during the apartheid era under the name of “necklacing” and meted out on those suspected of informing on antiapartheid fighters (Bruce 2014, 2; Thomas 2012, 1–2). Jungle justice or necklacing is not only horrifying; it violates human rights and human dignity. The life expectancy of the Skolombo can fairly be presumed to fall between 12 and 25 years for the boys. A good number of them die before the teen age due to diseases and other hazards like accidents and drowning (Isine, March 26, 2017, Web). Some of the few who make it across 19 end up as robbers, burglars, petty thieves, and the like, and from that point, it would only be a matter of time before they are caught in a major crime or caught stealing a cell phone and are given jungle justice by the people or shot by the security forces. In fact, the Cross River government under Gov. Ben Ayade

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even established a strike force code-named Operation Skolombo in 2015 as a joint security outfit comprising a detachment of police, navy, air force, State Security Service (SSS), and the Nigeria Security and Civil Defence Corps (NSCDC) (Isine, March 4, 2016, Web). The main mandate of Operation Skolombo was to root out the Skolombo from the city using all means including extrajudicial executions (Anonymous, “#Operation Skolombo: JTF Kills Armed Robbery Suspect, ‘AK 1’ in Calabar,” January 9, 2017a. Web). On the whole, despite the criminal activities of some of the homeless people in Calabar, Issakaba was a negative identification and a harmful one for that matter. Besides, it is hard to prove that all the homeless people are criminals, rapists, murderers, kidnappers, etc., just as it is hard to establish that the city’s homeless are solely responsible for the crimes in the city. Unfortunately, it is on this erroneous assumption that the city’s residents based their justification for othering the homeless ones. From the study of extant literature, one can observe that acts of othering are based on perceived differences, real or imagined, but which are too weak to actually constitute ground for the subordination of fellow human beings. But is lack of justification for othering enough justification for re-othering? In the next section, I will discuss Skolombo’s fightback strategy.

Re-othering: Are the Skolombo Fighting Back? Are the Skolombo fighting back? This is an urgent question that requires consideration as the tension between the residents of Calabar and the city’s homeless intensifies. Interestingly, the negative identity (Issakaba) which the so-called legitimate residents of the city gave to the homeless has now been displaced by the disidentification strategy which the victims mounted. As already discussed, the city’s homeless in a reprisal reconstructed that imposed negative identity Issakaba to Skolombo, a more sinister identity aimed at threatening and disquieting the peace of the residents. No one calls them Issakaba anymore; almost unconsciously, the city’s residents address them by their new and preferred name of Skolombo. However, not all the homeless people in Calabar are Skolombo, and it may be argued that not all Skolombo are homeless. Ibanga Isine reports that Skolombo is a cult whose initiates swear to certain oath of secrecy (Isine, March 4, 2016, Web). One may use the Palestinian group Hamas as an analogy to understand the membership of Skolombo. It is true that Hamas claims that its objective is to fight for the Palestinians, not all Palestinians are its members. Similarly, no matter what the Skolombo claims as their objective, not all the homeless are members of Skolombo, and as such, for that one homeless individual who is neither a criminal nor a member of Skolombo, it would be unjust to call all the homeless criminals or Skolombo let alone subject all the homeless to othering, but this appears to be what the residents have done. From the look of things, it does appear that the Skolombo are fighting back and strongly too. For want of a better term, I have decided to describe this scenario where the victims of othering reconstruct the negative identity imposed on them and displace it with another one of their choosing in order to get back at their devaluers

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as re-othering. Re-othering is a form of resistance, but it must be distinguished from other forms of resistances such as what Jensen (2011) calls capitalization which he says is both a form of resistance and reproduction that seeks not to refuse the othered category but to appropriate elements of otherness in an attempt to valorize the othered identity category (2011, 66). It is a form of resistance because it does not accept the negative identity category as it was constructed by the oppressor, and it is a form of reproduction because it attempts to enrich and therefore transform the imposed identity into something of strength and power. Also, re-othering may be distinguished from the strategy of refusal/ disidentification which according to Jensen (2011, 66 & 78 e.n ix) is a form of agency that relies on refusing to occupy the position of the other through intentional and marked distancing from identity categories otherwise known as disidentification (see Goffman 1963; Skeggs 1997; Jensen 2011). Re-othering is however different from both capitalization and refusal/disidentification in the sense that it is not a strategy that seeks to enrich, valorize, and accept a negative identity categorization as capitalization does and it is also not a strategy that simply seeks to refuse to occupy the position of the other. Re-othering is a form of agency that (a) accepts the position of the other in order to highlight the great injustice done to victims, (b) takes the responsibility to choose the station and the identity of otherness preferable by reconstructing the imposed negative identity, and (c) shows that the power to selfreconstruct its imposed negative identity category, inadvertently, enables the other to view itself as another self and to view the former self as another other. Incidentally, the Skolombo did not want to stop at this modest accomplishment; they want to capitalize on the moral high ground offered by their victimhood and on their reconstructed identity category to fight back at the oppressor. There may be elements of resistance, reproduction, and valorization involved in re-othering, but neither capitalization nor refusal is able to elevate the other to a tentative self and relegate the former self to a tentative other which re-othering is able to do. Additionally, neither of the two is able to inspire a fightback as such, and these two reasons make re-othering a new counter-strategy to othering which needs to be taken seriously. There may be a special connection between re-othering and Jensen’s capitalization which among other things attempts to valorize the identity of otherness, but the outcome is not the same. For example, in the twentieth century, when the struggles for the affirmation of the human rights of the dark-skinned people were carried out in different parts of the world, for example, the United States’ civil rights movements and South Africa’s anti-apartheid campaign, a number of activists like Marcus Garvey, Malcolm X, and Maya Angelou resorted to the valorization of blackness as a way of fighting racism against the people of African descent. As a result, ideas, such as Black Power (Stokely Carmichael and Charles V. Hamilton 1967), Black Athena (Martin Bernal 1987), Black Is Beautiful (see Paul Taylor 2016), etc., were introduced. In South Africa, Steve Biko was renowned for his “Black Consciousness Movement” (1978/2005). For Biko (2005, 100), Black Consciousness refers to a campaign to draw the black man’s attention to his bad and subordinated conditions of life where he experiences not only institutionalized oppression but self-negating psychological

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belief that he is inferior. It is in this context that Biko talks of slogans such as “black is beautiful” as a valorization strategy. As he put it: I think that slogan [black is beautiful] has been meant to serve and I think is serving a very important aspect of our attempt to get at humanity. You are challenging the very deep roots of the Black man’s belief about himself. When you say “black is beautiful” what in fact you are saying to him is: man, you are okay as you are, begin to look upon yourself as a human being; now in African life especially it also has certain connotations; it is the connotations on the way women prepare themselves for viewing by society, in other words the way they dream, the way they make up and so on, which tends to be a negation of their true state and in a sense a running away from their colour; they use lightening creams, they use straightening devices for their hair and so on. They sort of believe I think that their natural state which is a black state is not synonymous with beauty and beauty can only be approximated by them if the skin is made as light as possible and the lips are made as red as possible, and their nails are made as pink as possible and so on. So in a sense the term “black is beautiful” challenges exactly that belief which makes someone negate himself. (2005, 104)

All these valorization ideas were geared toward finding new pedestal to make a devalued identity shine forth with whitewashed dignity. Unfortunately, the valorization of blackness could not and did not obliterate the fact that the concept of “black” remains racist following its linguistic, political, and social histories (see Kwesi Tsri 2016a, b). Also, in a way, the strategy of valorization seeks belongingness. Black is beautiful, for example, seeks the admission of blackness into the in-group of the beautiful. But there is a way in which belongingness or a striving to belong can be equated to a struggle to conform to the standard set by the norm which is, in itself, self-degrading. Nevertheless, while Powell and Menendian see strategies that support belongingness as a veritable option, it appears not to be the goal of the Skolombo’s re-othering. It is, therefore, interesting that the other in the city of Calabar is employing a strategy that is at once new and radical. The Skolombo seek not belongingness but respect. Respect not just for the otherness imposed on them but for the type of otherness they have chosen to be—the otherness of their own definition and identification. Skolombo, in conception and in intent, appears to be marked out as an otherness that is not pacifist but confrontational. It perceives the self as the other self and looks at the relationship between the two much more like the encounter in Hegel’s master/slave dialectic. In his master/slave dialectic, Hegel (1807) paints a picture of what happens when two selfconsciousnesses confront each other. As Eric Steinhart (1998) explains it, each of these two self-consciousnesses thinks about the other as another self. This presents them as mirrors of one another in which each mirror reflects the other and, in addition, also reflects the other reflecting itself. Further, it reflects the other reflecting itself reflecting the other. In Steinhart’s interpretation of Hegel, this continues until it produces both frenzy and paralysis. But here is the curious point: Steinhart interprets Hegel as saying that the only way to break the mirroring is to fight. In aftermath of this fight, the winner becomes the master, while the loser becomes the slave. The Skolombo’s confrontational project appears to be destined for this type of Hegelian end because, as it seems, the Skolombo did not stop at re-othering; they have an outstretch ambition to topple the oppressor. One notes this intention in some classic expressions attributed to Skolombo such as “you never see something,” “you

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go hear nwii,” “body go tell you,” “you go sabi body,” etc., which are threatening clichés aimed at instilling fear and highlighting the terror they bring. The Hegelian end raises lopsided identity categories where the winner dominates the loser. In reothering, the identity reconstruction of the other appears to legitimize the oppressed and devalue the self into a tentative otherness. But the Skolombo did not want to stop at this gain and see what the outcome would be. It seems they are bent on wagering everything, their elevated self-constructed otherness, their limited freedom to roam the streets, their limited right to life, their limited right to association, and their limited right to a peaceful assembly. It seems the Skolombo are throwing all of them in for one purpose alone: respect. This respect is not essentially as human beings that deserve so much more like the self-proclaimed legitimate residents of the city but, crudely, respect as a master in the master/slave equation with power to bring terror. It is hard to see how they will win their wager when their opposition throws in the apparatuses of state security which the state government elected to do in 2015 as earlier stated through the formation of Operation Skolombo made up of the detachment of police, army, navy, air force, Secret Service, as well as the Nigeria Security and Civil Defence Corps aimed at rooting out the Skolombo from the city. Regrettably, between 2015 and 2018—the time of this research—there have been many undocumented gun battles and consequent extrajudicial killings of the Skolombo (Anonymous, “#Operation Skolombo: JTF Kills Armed Robbery Suspect, ‘AK 1’ in Calabar,” January 9, 2017a. Web). The state security apparatus has also allowed for the extrajudicial execution of the Skolombo by the irate residents using what has been discussed earlier as jungle justice. It may strike one as an act of foolishness or a primitive strategy on the part of Skolombo to confront their powerful oppressor head-on in Hegel-style master/slave dialectic described above, but it is important to understand the scenario. The Skolombo are not human in the eyes of the oppressor; they have neither rights nor dignity. They are treated much like a roaming flock of sheep that belongs to no one which means that just anyone can harm them and walk free. This situation should be dire for any being with survival instinct and is capable of inspiring angst. Such a mood can push a victim into a course of action that is self-destroying. The Skolombo, it is safe to say, regard themselves as folks who have nothing to lose. Their only motivation, it seems, is to do something larger than themselves in order to earn respect and recognition. In such a situation, even a selfdestroying course of action might become appealing to one who has been devalued. It is clear that this might be the motivation behind the suicidal course of action taken by the Skolombo in their bid to fight back. It is important to clarify that re-othering, essentially, does not involve this type of suicidal fight back measure; it stops at the level at which the other takes the responsibility to define and identify the type of otherness it wants for itself. The stretch into a suicidal mission to topple the oppressor cannot, at this time, be explained into the strategy of re-othering. It is something which I think the psychologists can explain better; as a result, I will not discuss it further here. What is clear is that given the negative outcome of Skolombo’s confrontation with the norm, the self-destroying measure cannot be a viable solution. Even Hegel appears to admit that. As Steinhart (1998, 2) explains, the outcome of the encounter of the two self-

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consciousnesses which creates a lopsided master/slave relationship is an incomplete solution. Hegel for him thinks that learning how to cooperate would be a better, safer, and healthier strategy for the two self-consciousnesses because the master/slave relation is a primitive and a “defective form of self-consciousness whose logic is self-defeating, so that it renders itself logically obsolete and is superseded by the superior form of self-consciousness that is economic cooperation.”

A Conversational Proposal for Strategic De-othering If re-othering has failed the Skolombo having been shown to share similar characteristics with Hegel’s master/slave dialectic, especially due to the way it was deployed, what possible strategy can resolve such confrontations? I will here tap into the resources in conversational thinking to proffer a new strategy called deothering. It must be understood that re-othering is a strategy that levels the ground in that it creates a temporary consciousness in which both the former self and the former other become forms of othernesses albeit tentatively. This new consciousness is tentative because it is inspired by identity crisis. Both the self and the other are in shock: the former is in shock due to the disbelief that the subordinated other could redefine itself; the latter is in shock due to the disbelief that it could transcend its devaluedness to self-reconstruct its imposed identity. As a result, the self relapses into temporary self-doubt, while the other relapses into temporary self-delusion. But these are not permanent conditions. Group loyalties or commitments would sooner re-establish the lines of bifurcation in their actual places and trigger intergroup confrontations as was the case between the city residents and the Skolombo. My argument is that re-othering failed because it is just another other with vengeful motives. As a powerful agency, the self does not look upon the powerless other with kindness and tolerance. The situation more than likely should be worse when the other, by a stroke of genius, finds a way to reposition itself, even if as a powerful other. A situation such as that most likely will generate tension between the self and the other and may even lead to an all-out Hegel-style confrontation. With this said, what type of identity formation can resolve the confrontation between two forms of othernesses? Powell and Menendian offer a strategy of inclusion and belongingness which they call “circle of human concern” (2016, 32). According to them, “We believe that the only viable solution to the problem of othering is one involving inclusion and belongingness. The most important good we distribute to each other in society is membership.” Further, they claim that “The right to belong is prior to all other distributive decisions since it is members who make those decisions. Belongingness entails an unwavering commitment to not simply tolerating and respecting difference but to ensuring that all people are welcome and feel that they belong in the society. We call this idea the ‘circle of human concern.’” I find this proposal too difficult to implement especially in the residents/Skolombo dichotomy and other similar contexts where there seems to be a lingering history of hate, injustice, and deprecation.

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Another factor that seems to make the context of residents/Skolombo complicated to manage with a simple suggestion of accommodation and drips of milk of human kindness embedded in Powell’s and Menendian’s strategy of “circle of human concern” is the bitter truth that the residents have never considered and regarded the Skolombo as humans with any measure of dignity. Where the Skolombo are not considered as part of the circle of humans, the so-called human concern which Powell and Menendian wish to trigger could only be one solution too many. To overcome this tension whether between the self and the other or between two tentative othernesses, I wish to put forward a conversational strategy. Conversational thinking which is a method in African philosophy tradition prioritizes a concept like relationship or communion. The focus of conversational thinking is not really on which substances are real or what realities are made up of but on the relationship among realities. What is the nature of these relationships and what is the objective of these relationships? (see Chimakonam 2017a, b, c). In conversational thinking, realities are variables no matter what stuff they are made up of, and each constitutes necessary link to the network of realities (see Chimakonam 2015a, b). What this means is that there is ontological equality among all realities. If this is the case, then the artificial dichotomy that is created between the residents and the Skolombo will evaporate. In other words, conversational strategy claims that there is no way the tension between the self and the other or even the one between tentative othernesses could be resolved because the problem is implicit or structurally embedded in their constitution. There is no way both the self and the other can co-exist, and there would be justice, fairness, equity, and all other positive expectations in the human society. The solution lies in obliterating the lopsided structure that grants epistemic and ontological hegemony to the self while devaluing the otherness. But care must be taken not to suppress the human spark and dignity in the process. And this is why I prefer the conversational structure that focuses on the relationships rather than on the ontological constitution of realities involved. The conversational strategy (CS) therefore provides for the following: 1. That realities exist and thrive in a network and not in isolation 2. That every reality in this network constitutes a necessary link 3. That the relationship among the realities in the network should be governed by the moral law of Egbe bere, Ugo bere (EBUB) I will explain the third item further. EBUB which is inspired from the traditional Igbo worldview (Chimakonam 2017d) is a grand moral law that states: “live only in accordance to that moral law by which your freedom shall not encroach into another’s and another’s into yours.” EBUB is described as grand because it is based on freedom which is the greatest possession of the natural human being who is a self-ruled individual that owes no obligation to an artificially created entity such as a community. In (2017d), I formulate three principles for EBUB, namely, the moral community, the mutual preservation, and the boomerang principle. In brief, the moral community principle states that “any association of humans is not only a social and a political community but a moral community as well.” I explain (2017d, 128) that “A social community is one in which associates create a platform for interaction.

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A political community is one in which associates give up their excessive freedoms, create a platform for the regulation of actions of associates and the authority of leaders. A moral community is one in which associates seek the promotion and pursuit of the highest individual ideals through a conscientious respect of the rights of other associates and obedience to law.” The second principle, the mutual preservation principle, states that “any associate of a political community whose action encroaches into the freedoms of others shall have his own freedom further limited” (Chimakonam 2017d). This is the very principle that justifies the creation and the entrance into the moral community. And finally, the boomerang principle states that “any violation of the grund norm which binds a political community must be duly redressed.” On the whole, EBUB and its three principles make provisions for tolerance and accommodation of all and protection of dignity and human rights of all irrespective of individual creed, class, orientation, race, or social and economic status in the society. EBUB and its principles thus form the canonical basis for the conversational strategy. The idea of conversation technically speaks to the relationship among realities. Relationship is conversational in the context of usage, not necessarily in terms of vocal exchanges but in terms of interaction. This is why conversationalists hold that realities, be they humans or any other things, exist and thrive in a network of mutual interdependence, interconnection, and interrelation with a proviso that each reality, no matter how exulted or reduced, has something to offer hence the idea of necessary link. With this type of mind-set which is antithetical to the self/other dichotomy, the other-disregarding attitudes would be treated as anathema. And when implemented in the context of Calabar self/other conflict, CS first prescribes the demolition of the framework of residents/Skolombo conflict, not its resolution. What this implies is that by EBUB, CS prescribes a law that should govern the relationships among people in a society. Also, by the three principles of EBUB, CS prescribes ways of engaging in this relationship and the protection of everyone in that relationship. To be specific, the first principle, that is, the moral community, prescribes that a good society ought to be based on norms that promote equity, tolerance, human rights, and respect for human dignity above all else. The second principle, that is, the mutual preservation, prescribes that a good society should seek at all times to protect every member and ensure that none is abused, dehumanized, subordinated, or treated unjustly by another. And finally, the boomerang principle which is the third principle prescribes that a good society should strive to make just laws and apply them fairly to all at all times. From the foregoing, if, therefore, CS is implemented properly, there is optimism from my point of view that it will prove itself viable in most self-/other-related contexts of conflict such as the residents/ Skolombo imbroglio in the city of Calabar.

Conclusion In conclusion, the kernel of CS is partly centered on building a moral community and partly on solid institutionalization. It is important that a society is organized on just laws and moral principles. It is the absence of these that leave room for social

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breakdowns. The self/other dichotomy is one of the symptoms of social cracks in any society. To address it requires, above all else, getting the legal and moral bases of the society right. In this regard, I agree with Powell and Menendian (2016, 33) who contend that “Belongingness must be more than expressive; it must be institutionalized as well. To counteract othering, we must focus on providing access to resources and critical institutions to disadvantaged groups.” Inasmuch as I accept Powell’s and Menendian’s recommendation in the above, I disagree that to counteract othering, what is required was merely focusing “on providing access to resources and critical institutions to disadvantaged groups.” This would still come short of an adequate solution. CS would insist that othering is a mere symptom of a deeper sociopolitical ailment which requires attention to the legal and moral foundations of the society to be properly addressed.

References Bernal, Martin. 1987. Black Athena: The Afroasiatic roots of classical civilization. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press. Print. Biko, Steve B. 2005. I write what I like. Cambridge: ProQuest LLC. [First Published in 1978]. Web. Brons, Lajos. 2015. Othering, an analysis. Transcience 6 (1): 69–90. Print. Bruce, David. 2014. Political killings in South Africa: The ultimate intimidation, Policy briefs. Vol. 64. Pretoria: Institute for Security Studies. Web. Carmichael, Stokely, and Charles Hamilton. 1967. Black power: The politics of liberation in America. New York: Random House. Print. Chimakonam, Jonathan O. 2015a. Transforming the African philosophical place through conversations: An inquiry into the global expansion of thought (GET). South African Journal of Philosophy 34 (4): 462–479. Print. Chimakonam, Jonathan O. 2015b. Conversational philosophy as a new school of thought in African philosophy: A conversation with Bruce Janz on the concept of ‘philosophical space’. Confluence: Journal of World Philosophies 3: 9–40. Web. Chimakonam, Jonathan O. 2017a. African philosophy and global epistemic injustice. Journal of Global Ethics 13 (2): 120–137. https://doi.org/10.1080/17449626.2017.1364660. Web. Chimakonam, Jonathan O. 2017b. Conversationalism as an emerging method of thinking in and beyond African philosophy. Acta-Academica 2: 11–33. Web. Chimakonam, Jonathan O. 2017c. What is conversational philosophy? A prescription of a new theory and method of philosophizing in and beyond African philosophy. Phronimon 18: 115–130. Web. Chimakonam, Jonathan O. 2017d. An interrogation of capital punishment in Nigeria’s penal system: Towards a freedom theory of punishment in African philosophy. In The death penalty from an African perspective: Views from Zimbabwean and Nigerian philosophers, ed. Fainos Mangena and Jonathan O. Chimakonam, 115–136. Delaware: Vernon Press. Print. De Beauvoir, Simone. 1997. The second sex. London: Vintage. [First published in French in 1949]. Print. Derrida, Jacques. 1997. Of grammatology. Corrected edition (trans: Spivak, G.C.). Baltimore/ London: Johns Hopkins University Press. [First published in French in 1967]. Print. Fanon, Frantz. 1967. Black skin, white mask (trans: Markmann, C.L.). New York: Grove Press. [First published in French in 1952]. Print. Goffman, E. 1963. Stigma – notes on the management of spoiled identity. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books. Print.

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Hegel, Georg. 2001. The phenomenology of mind (trans: Baillie, J.B. Blackmask Online [First published in 1807]. http://www.blackmask.com. Retrieved 9 Mar 2018. Web. Jensen, Sune Qvotrup. 2011. Othering, identity formation and agency. Qualitative Studies 2 (2): 63–78. Print. Johnson, Joy L., et al. 2004. Othering and being Othered in the context of health care services. Health Communication 16 (2): 253–271. Print. Levinas, Emmanuel. 2004. Le Temps et l’Autre. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. [First published in 1948]. Print. Levinas, Emmanuel. 1979. Politique apres! Les Temps Modernes 398: 521–528. Levinas, Emmanuel. 1990. “Prefatory note” to the translation of “reactions on the philosophy of Hitlerism”. Critical Inquiry 17 (1): 62–71. Print. Powell, John A., and Stephen Menendian. 2016. The problem of othering: Towards inclusiveness and belonging. In Othering and belonging: Expanding the circle of human concern, Issue 1, ed. Andrew Grant-Thomas. Berkeley: Haas Institute. Print. Said, Edward. 1995. Orientalism. London: Penguin Books. [First published in 1978]. Print. Skeggs, B. 1997. Formations of class and gender. London: Sage. Print. Spivak, Gayatri C. 1985. The Rani of Sirmur: An essay in reading the archives. History and Theory 28 (3): 247–272. Print. Staszak, Jean-Francois. 2009. Other/otherness. In International encyclopedia of human geography, ed. Robin Kitchin and Nigel Thrift. Amsterdam: Elsevier. Print. Taylor, Paul C. 2016. Black is beautiful: A philosophy of black aesthetics. Malden, MA: Wiley. Print. Thomas, Kylie. 2012. The power of naming: ‘Senseless violence’ and violent law in post-apartheid South Africa. Johannesburg: Centre for the Study of Violence and Reconciliation. Web. Tsri, Kwesi. 2016a. Africans are not black: Why the use of the term ‘black’ for Africans should be abandoned. African Identities 14 (2): 147–160. https://doi.org/10.1080/14725843.2015.1113120. Print. Tsri, Kwesi. 2016b. Africans are not black: The case for conceptual liberation. London: Routledge. Print.

Internet Sources Akpan, Anietie. 2017. Skolombo, the story of Calabar street children. Guardian Newspapers. October 10, 2015. https://guardian.ng/sunday-magazine/skolombo-the-story-of-calabar-streetchildren/. Retrieved 6 Mar 2018. Web. Anonymous. 2011. There are no others: A catalogue of ‘Othering’. Othering 101, Psychology, December 28, 2011. https://therearenoothers.wordpress.com/2011/12/28/othering-101-what-isothering/. Retrieved 9 Mar 2018. Web. Anonymous. 2017a. #Operation Skolombo: JTF kills armed robbery suspect, ‘AK 1’ in Calabar. Vanguard Newspapers. January 9, 2017. https://www.vanguardngr.com/2017/01/operations kolombo-jtf-kills-armed-robbery-suspect-ak-1-in-calabar/. Retrieved 13 Mar 2018. Web. Anonymous. 2017b. Jungle justice in Calabar: Should it be allowed to continue? (February 20, 2017). https://calabarreporters.com/20988/jungle-justice-in-calabar. Retrieved 9 Mar 2018. Web. Anonymous. 2018. Jamaican Patwah: Patois and slang dictionary. http://jamaicanpatwah.com/ dictionary/search?search_data=skolo&search_btn.x=39&search_btn.y=18. Searched 11 Mar 2018. Web. Isine, Ibanga. 2016. Untold story of how Skolombo street children terrorise Calabar residents. March 4, 2016. Premium Times Newspaper. https://www.premiumtimesng.com/investigationspecialreports/199249-investigation-untold-story-of-how-skolombo-street-children-terrorise-calabar-resi dents.html. Retrieved 12 Mar 2018. Web. Isine, Ibanga. 2017. Skolombo boys: How parents abused, abandoned children on streets of Calabar. March 26, 2017. Premium Times Newspaper. https://www.premiumtimesng.com/

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investigationspecial-reports/204185-investigation-skolombo-boys-how-parents-abused-abandonedchildren-on-streets-of-calabar.html. Retrieved 12 Mar 2018. Web. Odok, George. 2017. Jungle justice in Calabar: Should it be allowed to continue? Calabar Reporters. February 20, 2017. https://calabarreporters.com/20988/jungle-justice-in-calabar. Retrieved 12 Mar 2018. Web. Steinhart, Eric. 1998. The master/slave dialectic. http://journalism.uoregon.edu/~tbivins/J644/pdfs/ Hegel-Master-Slave.pdf. Retrieved 11 Mar 2018. Web. Unah, Emmanuel. 2017. Skolombo: Homeless kids who paint Calabar red. Vanguard Newspapers. May 16, 2017. https://www.vanguardngr.com/2017/05/skolombo-homeless-kids-paint-calabarred/). Retrieved 10 Mar 2018. Web.

The (Post-)colonial South African Present and the Meaning of Trauma for the Future

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Contents Genealogy as Critique . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Traumdeutung: What’s in a Dream? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . From Oneiric Burning to Burning Rage . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Traumadeutung: Signs of Trauma? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Victim or Agent? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Genealogy as Cure . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

A critical interrogation of who we are in this particular present has always been a crucial and inherent part of philosophical discourse. This chapter reflects upon the (post-)colonial South African present from a genealogical and psychoanalytic point of view. It sets out from the Nietzschean assertion that historical memory should first and foremost serve life. Hence the importance of a certain measure of forgetfulness in relation to the past, especially the traumatic past. Apart from conscious forgetfulness, Freud comprehensively theorized the impact of unconsciously repressed trauma on the present. It was also Freud who made dreams into the mirror and meaning of the unconscious. For him, dreams were specifically the fulfilment of desire. For Foucault and Lacan, it is much more complex than that for as the former argues, the presence of meaning in the dream is not meaning

This chapter is a revised version of a paper originally presented in 2016 at the University of Pretoria in Afrikaans and subsequently published as Hofmeyr, A. B. 2017. “’Ma kan Ma dan nie sien dat ek aan die brand is nie?’ Enkele opmerkings oor wat ons vandag is,” Tydskrif vir Geesteswetenskappe 57(1): 114–125. A. B. B. Hofmeyr (*) School of the Arts, University of Pretoria, Pretoria, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_21

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making itself fully evident – it offers meaning while ephemeralizing it (Foucault 1954 in Foucault and Binswanger 1994). Drawing on genealogy and psychoanalysis as diagnostic toolkits, I will attempt to understand what trauma is to the future as a means to theorize subject formation in this strange place that is the (post-)colonial, post-apartheid South African present. Keywords

Trauma · Genealogy · Psychoanalysis · (post-)colonial South African present · Subject formation · Diagnostics of the present · Memory

Genealogy as Critique In the last few decades – especially in a time in which there has been growing global sensitization to the traumatizing othering and effacement of others by colonialism and the persistence thereof in neocolonial and “post-”colonial guises – growing number of philosophers have underlined the glaring incommensurability between Kant’s universal moral theory, with its inspiring enlightenment ideas of human autonomy, equality, and dignity, and Kant’s racism. (See, e.g., Eze’s “The Color or Reason: The Idea of ‘Race’ in Kant’s Anthropology” (Eze (Ed.) 1997: 103–140).) It might therefore come across as exceedingly misguided or even untimely to start a critical reflection on who we are today in our so-called postcolonial present(s) by revisiting Kant’s 1784 response to the German periodical Berlinische Monatsschrift’s question: Was ist Aufklärung? I nevertheless beg my readers’ indulgence and permission to allow me this brief “untimely meditation,” for as Foucault pointed out in his essay by the same name (1984), it was Kant who approached the question of a philosophical consideration of the present in a way that deviated in an instructive way from previous attempts. For Kant, a critical interrogation of one’s own present is not an attempt to find how it diverges from the past following some dramatic event, nor is it an interrogation of the present to unearth signs of a forthcoming event or of a point of transition toward the dawning of a new world (Foucault 1984: 33). Here Kant makes no mention of “origins,” “progress,” or “the internal teleology of a historical process” as in his other texts on history. His exclusive concern is with contemporary reality. Enlightenment, for Kant, is a “modification of the preexisting relation linking will, authority, and the use of reason” (ibid., p. 34). One’s will should be guided (for Kant it is not only an ongoing task but also an obligation) by the use of reason even if it finds itself in opposition to authority – a course of action, which, as Kant makes clear, requires immense courage. It is a matter of questioning authority not in principle (which would risk anarchy in presenting oneself as ungovernable), but of not merely relying on authority – as a matter of principle. Foucault words it as follows: how not to be governed like that, by that, in the name of those principles, with such and such an objective in mind and by means of such procedures, not like that, not for that, not by them. (Foucault in Lotringer (Ed.) 2007: 44)

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Across the globe divergent geographical locales have borne historical testimony to the exigency of the continuous and ever renewed interrogation of particular historical presents – and how our relationship to our present affects the relationship that we have with ourselves. Foucault referred to this Kantian obligation as “a historical ontology of ourselves,” i.e., “a historical investigation into the events that have led us to constitute ourselves and to recognize ourselves as subjects of what we are doing, thinking, saying” (1984: 115). The South African present is not unique in being a “postcolony” in which re- and neocolonial tendencies persist, but a genealogical survey of its history throws particularly conflictual lines of descent in relief. More precisely, genealogy seeks to engage with history not as discipline or science [Historie], but as event(s), and hence it embarks upon the excavation of the Entstehungsgeschichte [history of the moment(s) of emergence] of such events (Cf. Nietzsche’s 1874 Untimely Meditation, “On the Uses and Disadvantages of History for Life” (Nietzsche 1997: 57–124) as well as Foucault’s 1971 essay, “Nietzsche, Genealogy, History” in Rabinow (Ed.) 1984: 76–100.). A history of the moment(s) of emergence does not seek to uncover the point of origin or a teleological progression, but critically engages a present locale in the midst of an effective history. According to Foucault’s reading, Nietzsche referred to wirkliche Historie in opposition to traditional history. The former should be understood as a historical tracing that “deals with events in terms of their most unique characteristics, and their most acute manifestations.” As such an event is “the reversal of a relationship of forces, the usurpation of power” (Foucault 1971: 88)), in which the effects of the past remains effective of the present in unpredictable and indeed untimely ways. The moment of emergence is therefore not to be understood as a culmination or the final term of a historical development. Instead, “they are merely the current episodes in a series of subjugations” (Foucault 1971: 99). Almost all of South Africa’s peoples came from elsewhere; almost none are left that can rightfully claim to be autochthonous. All of its peoples descended from the north either by land or by sea – all of them have blood on their hands, the colonialists’ hands undoubtedly the bloodiest. The first white settlers found the native hunter-gatherers and tribespeople under threat from the southwardly migrating Bantu peoples. In the subsequent colonial and apartheid pasts, the hands of lighter hues were far bloodier than others, whereas in the more recent and immediate pasts, the hands of all complexions have become indistinguishable in the dirt and disgrace that stain them. Mzansi (isiXhosa for the country of South Africa (literally meaning “south”); the isiZulu variation is Mzansti.) is not Graceland - referring to Paul Simon’s 1986 LP, Graceland that was recorded in Johannesburg with local musicians during the time of the international anti-apartheid boycott. His hope was that art could transcend politics at the risk of undermining the anti-apartheid cause. The lyrics portray Graceland as a place of hospitality and of good will. Rather than Graceland where hope lives, Mzansi is the place of incessant disgrace whose perpetrators belong to all races, all colors, all socioeconomic positionalities (As poignantly depicted by J. M. Coetzee in his 1999 novel, Disgrace, which won the Booker Prize. The author was also awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature 4 years later.). It is a place and time of pervasive civil disgruntlement

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with persistent inequality and injustice, a time of direct and structural violence; of stagnating social, political, and economic developments; and of irrational politics and the fragmentation of society. Foucault described such scenarios as the age-old reversals of forces, the usurpation and re-usurpation of power, “the appropriation of a vocabulary turned against those who had once used it, a feeble domination that poisons itself as it grows lax, the entry,” he says (1971: 104), “of a masked ‘other’.” To my mind, a critical interrogation of our historical present, which is also simultaneously a historicocritical analysis of who we are in this present, should bring us face to face with this “masked other,” not in an attempt to unmask the other, since “the other” is not the problem. The scourge that we are up against is the very process of othering. Put differently, unmasking the other does not and cannot stop the perpetual emergence of others by way of othering. In fact, and far more sinister, is the genealogical insight that the source(s) of othering is itself irremediably other, inaccessible, not to be located, nor experienced, but ever festering. If we are to believe Nietzsche, the philosopher as genealogist nevertheless retains the task – perhaps not despite of, but because of this fatalism – to ascertain how to engage with history so as to serve life. If history is to serve life, history itself cannot but be untimely, not of this time, ahead of its time, for the future – both diachronous and synchronous: through time, yet at this same time, concurrently (cf. Nietzsche’s 1874 essay, the second of the Untimely Meditations titled, “On the Uses and Disadvantages of History for Life” in Nietzsche 1997: 57–124). To have a sense of the past that serves the present involves not only memory but forgetting or forgetfulness of the past for the sake of life in the present. If the past is to be forgotten for the present to be tolerable, we are dealing with repressed trauma – the very domain of psychoanalysis. According to Freudian psychoanalysis, “Traumdeutung” or the analysis of dreams is the gateway to “Traumadeutung” – the understanding of past traumas. (In The Interpretation of Dreams, Freud wrote: “At any rate, the interpretation of dreams is the via regia [royal road] to a knowledge of the unconscious element in our psychic life” (1997: 441).) Given the senselessness of the eternal return of the same traumatizing processes of othering that seems to hold the key to a critical understanding of our present, and which might allow for the right measure of remembering and forgetting so as to serve life, I beg your indulgence once again to allow me the rather experimental move of following a thought experiment down the proverbial rabbit hole.

Traumdeutung: What’s in a Dream? Imagine for a moment that I had the present South African sociopolitical reality on the couch before me; that I was in a position to listen to the free associations of a country in crisis. Mzansi’s curvaceous body is stretched out on the proverbial coach – the blueness of her heavens, the depth of her seas, and her everlasting mountains. The only sign that she is lying on a coach facing an analyst as opposed to a beach facing the ocean

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is her tensely knotted fingers. Her fingers appeal to me like only Levinas’s “face” can appeal to the Other. As we know, for Levinas the “face” does not exclusively or even primarily refer to “countenance.” The “face” is the Other that addresses me by virtue of her proximity. (See, e.g., Levinas 1979: 194, 1987: 20–21, 1982: 89–90, 1991: 87–91.) It is a necessary bodily nearness, because she affects, not so much with her words – or exclusively with her words – but through her entire being. In the intimate touch of her proximity, my very being, how I live, and especially the fact that I live (possibly and probably at her expense) are called into question. She is my country, the ground beneath my feet, and the starry sky above me by which I steer my course, and she is in pain. I cannot distance myself from her pain; at the same time, I am complicit in her pain. Her knotted fingers are pointing at me in an undeniable gesture of accusation. They single me out – I that am everyone and no one. Yet, I cannot escape the fact that it is precisely me that is sitting here facing her that has been appointed as the one that has to respond to her accusation. Standing accused, I don’t feel up to the task of responding, and yet I cannot evade the responsibility engendered by the appeal. To remain silent will in itself speak as loudly as a thousand words of rationalization and self-exoneration. But why do I feel compelled to make excuses for myself? The one lying on the coach must talk, for talking is after all a cure in itself. It would be a grave mistake to think that the therapist is able to decipher the hidden meaning of free association, dreams, or slips of the tongues. To be sure, the therapist has to listen with consideration and tact, without any moral judgments or even psychological “insights.” It was Lacan, Freud’s prodigal son, who taught us that it is the beginning of the analyst’s demise if he pretends to know anything about the psyche of the analysand. In fact, psychology itself might be considered as a misguided perspective on human existence. (See Derek Hook’s “The Subject of Psychology: A Lacanian Critique” (2017) in this regard. He provides a succinct overview of Lacan’s critical views on psychology, including psychology’s objectifying (and objectivistic) tendencies; psychology’s historical attempt to model itself on the natural sciences; its conceptual and practical prioritizations of the ego and consciousness; and its frequent prioritization of developmental, biological, and physiological paradigms above a careful analysis of the structures and operations of language and speech.) To talk is therapeutic, not because the therapist knows anything but because talking (including free association, the recounting of dreams, or parapraxes (“Freudian slips”)) is the royal road to catharsis – or so goes the early Freudian refrain. One aspect of the analyst’s role is to pick up when unconscious elements are revealed in the analysand’s jabbering. The release of that which has been bottled up or repressed is what offers the analysand some relief. The problem is that traumas that have been repressed for a long time cannot be uncovered without meeting with a substantial amount of psychic resistance. During one of the lectures presented in Vienna during the Winter semesters of 1915/1916 and 1916/1917, Freud explained: “When we undertake to cure a patient, to free him from the symptoms of his malady, he confronts us with a vigorous, tenacious resistance that lasts during the whole time of the treatment” (Nineteenth Lecture: “General Theory of Neuroses. Resistance and Suppression,” in Freud’s A

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General Introduction to Psychoanalysis (1917), p. 252 of the pdfbook available here: https://eduardolbm.files.wordpress.com/2014/10/a-general-introduction-to-psycho analysis-sigmund-freud.pdf.). The most important aspect of the therapist’s role is therefore to dismantle the defense mechanisms that hamper the efficacy of the talking cure. The therapist therefore has to listen very carefully. Every confusion of tongues could be significant. What do I hear her say? What does the knotted fingers reveal? Across the gulf of silence that separates us, I hear her say something that generates a faint resonance: “I dreamt,” I hear Mzansi say. ‘I dreamt that my child was standing by my bedside, her reproachful gaze turned towards me: “Mother, can’t you see I’m burning?”

This dream scenario is of course Freud’s textbook case from Die Traumdeutung (1899) (Freud chose to place this anonymous dream at a strategic high point of his dream exposition: it opens Chap. 7 of The Interpretation of Dreams, titled, “The Psychology of the Dream” (cf. Freud 1997: 353–355; 375–377). The version of the dream presented here deviates from the Freudian scenario most significantly therein that it is the mother dreaming rather than the father as in Freud’s account. The most obvious explanation for this substitution is the fact that here it is Mzansi – the motherland – relating her dream. On the other hand, the substitution of the Lacanian “name” of the father with that of the mother may be interpreted as a radical contestation of psychoanalytic dogma. The “question” is an appeal mixed with blame. Psychoanalytically it is a judgment on paternal blindness with evident links with the theory of the paternal function. As contestation, it is aligned with the indictment of psychoanalysis’ “sexual monism” (Beauvoir 2010: 52) and of its implication in the culture of “sexual indifference” – the fact that “the theory of the subject has always been appropriated by the ‘masculine’” (Irigaray 1985: 133). Mzansi explains that she had been keeping watch over her dying child day and night. When the child finally died, she went to the room next door to lie down, leaving the interleading door open to enable her to keep an eye on the body of her child, which was surrounded by tall burning candles. A few hours later, she woke after having dreamt that her child was standing next to her bed and crying. One of the candles had fallen over and the bed was set aflame. For Freud, this dream too contained the fulfilment of a wish. In the dream the dead child behaved much as she/he had done in life, hence the need to prolong sleep by way of the dream when immediate awakening was actually called for. Lacan’s interpretation (Lacan (1979 [1964]) devoted two chapters of his Seminar XI to the dream: Chap. 3: “The Subject of Certainty,” and Chap. 5: “Tuche and Automaton”), however, deviates from Freud’s, an interpretation that I find far more compelling and instructive. Of particular interest, according to Lacan, is not so much the dream itself. The reality of her child’s death was unbearable and the dream offered some reprieve. But why then did she wake up? In our dreamwork we devise all kinds of strategies to incorporate that

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which threatens to interrupt the dream. The alarm clock goes off, for example, and in our dream a telephone suddenly rings, thereby prolonging our sleep with a few miserable additional minutes. The disruptive elements become incorporated into the dream narrative, thereby enabling us to escape reality for longer. In her sleep the mother smells the smoke of the burning shroud. She conjures a dream in which her child approaches her bed with the horrifying reproach: “Mother, can’t you see I’m burning?”. Lacan’s question, however, is: why did the mother wake up despite of the dream, which should have enabled her to rationalize the disruptive stimuli, thereby shielding her from the nightmare of reality? She woke up not because – as most might think – the external stimuli were too strong to ignore. The mother woke up, according to Lacan, because that which she encountered in her dream was far more traumatic than the reality of her dead child. The “face” of her child, the reproach in the face, found her even in her dream world – the reproach that she had failed her child in life – when she was still able to do something about it. In the hyperbolic language of Levinas, to ignore the appeal of the face is to murder the Other. The mother therefore woke up to escape the dream, because the dream – the confrontation with the life that she had failed, with the blood on her hands – was more traumatic than the reality of her dead child! Let us try to make sense of this in the context of the South African predicament: the child is dead, but the actual trauma is the fact that the children of our country are dying again and again. That is the tragedy and the trauma of Mzansi that we keep on failing her. Our children go hungry, our children have no access and therefore get left behind, and our children burn to death in their shacks at night. The child is not dead, because his reproach is everywhere. In the words of the poem Ingrid Jonker had written after the infamous 1960 Sharpeville massacre during which a child was shot dead by soldiers in Nyanga: The child is not dead the child raises his fists against his mother who screams Africa screams the smell of freedom and heather in the locations of the heart under siege The child raises his fists against his father in the march of the generations who scream Africa scream the smell of justice and blood in the streets of his armed pride ... The child is not dead ... the child is present at all meetings and legislations the child peeps through the windows of houses and into the hearts of mothers the child who just wanted to play in the sun at Nyanga is everywhere. (Poem by South African poet Ingrid Jonker (1994). It was written in Afrikaans and later translated into English as “The Child Who was Shot Dead by Soldiers in Nyanga” and published in Black Butterflies (2007). Nelson Mandela read the poem in the original Afrikaans, during his address at the opening of the first democratic parliament on

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May 24, 1994. The English translation is available online: https://allpoetry.com/Thechild-is-not-dead.)

Much worse than the veritable fact of the child’s death is her reproach that confronts us everywhere, the reproach that we have failed her and that we keep on failing her. The reproach is seen in the omnipresent eyes of begging street kids, in the makeshift shacks sprouting everywhere, and in the increasingly violent nature of the pervasive protest actions. The sobering reality is that Mzansi herself is burning. [And that we always wake up too late – with match in hand!]

From Oneiric Burning to Burning Rage “South Africa burns with rage!” This message dominated local headlines in the recent past. The economy is failing and structural inequality prevails. The widespread frustration with the Zuma government eventually led him to resign after being recalled by the African National Congress (ANC), but the new administration is eons away from proving to be the deus ex machina of the disgraced ruling political party. South Africa has not only been dubbed “the protest capital of the world” (Wikipedia calls South Africa ‘the protest capital of the world’ (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/ Protests_in_South_Africa) referencing the following article: http://thoughtleader.co. za/chrisrodrigues/2010/04/05/on-revolutionary-songs/), but the very nature of the protests especially between 2015 and 2017 signaled a kind of fury not seen since the anti-pass protests preceding the Sharpeville massacre in 1960 – being given to violence, general lawlessness, and destruction. The many reasons for the protests include housing allocations and service delivery issues, municipal demarcation, xenophobia, labor-related demands and unemployment, water shortages and cost of electricity, land-related issues like evictions and forced removals, quality of school education, university fees, corruption, and crime. (Most of these issues still fill our daily news feeds.) The senseless violence of the protest actions reeked of desperation and frustration: the most telling perhaps was the self-flagellating burning of buses and schools. South Africa was literally and figuratively burning with rage. (It remains to be seen how long the lull in the outspoken disgruntlement following Zuma’s replacement by the Ramaphosa administration will last. It is but a matter of time, I fear, before something gives again given the scale of the pervasive socioeconomic crises in the country.) A persistent leitmotif in the discourse of rage of especially the so-called born-free generation was that the ruling “liberating” party failed them because the legacy of apartheid – considered to be the third in a series of subjugations (following slavery and colonialism) – seems to be insurmountable (cf. Mbembe 2001: 3). The pressing task at hand, from a genealogical point of view, is to try to understand why the fury that fueled the fires – so emblematic of this rage – was so irate at this particular historical juncture.

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Traumadeutung: Signs of Trauma? Achille Mbembe has attempted to think through the unique situatedness and positionalities of those living in the postcolony as gleaned from African modes of self-representation (2001). For the first modern African thinkers, liberation from servitude was equivalent above all to acquiring formal power and making their own decisions autonomously. Importantly, Mbembe notes, the fundamental question, that is, “how to renegotiate a social bond corrupted by commercial relationships (the sale of human beings) and the violence of endless wars?,” was considered secondary (ibid., p. 9). Mbembe argues that in the postcolonial African quest for identity and power, one of the key categories that was mobilized to this end is the figure of the African as a “victimized subject” (my emphasis): at the heart of the paradigm of victimization we find a reading of self and the world as a series of fatalities. In African history, it is thought, there is neither irony nor accident. Our history is essentially governed by forces beyond our control. The diversity and disorder of the world, as well as the open character of historical possibilities, are reduced – in an authoritarian manner – to a spasmodic, unchanging cycle, infinitely repeated in accord with a conspiracy always fomented by forces beyond our reach [. . . .] Ultimately, the African is supposed to be merely a castrated subject, the passive instrument of the Other’s enjoyment. . . [. . . .] Under such conditions the imagination of identity is deployed in accord with the logic of suspicion, of denunciation of the Other and of everything that is different: the mad dream of a world without Others. (pp. 10–11)

Mbembe further argues that the primary effect of slavery, colonization, and apartheid was to divide African societies against themselves. This division opened the way for Africans to participate in victimizing their own people. The neurosis of victimization and impotence in the face of it then leads to a xenophobic persecution mania (masking a profound desire for recognition and vengeance) (cf. p. 11). As a result and in support of this construction, a diabolical couple is fabricated: the enemy – or tormentor and incarnation of absolute wickedness – and the victim, full of virtue and incapable of violence, terror, or corruption (ibid.). A false dichotomy is created between the self and the other by attempting to oust or “other” the other. What Mbembe seems to be arguing here is that this conscious suppression of the traumatizing external other is symptomatic of the unconscious repression of the traumatizing internal other. We will return to this point shortly. “How can we break with this defunct and worn out mode of thought?”, asks Mbembe (p. 16). To be sure, thinkers such as Mudimbe (Cf. The Invention of Africa (1988) and The Idea of Africa (1994).) have tried to deconstruct tradition (and thereby Africa itself) by showing the latter to have been invented. Others, such as Appiah (see especially In My Father’s House (1992)), have attempted to problematize the very notion of a definitive “African identity” by acknowledging the fact that identity is always in a state of becoming and indebted to diverse genealogies, including traditions inherited from colonial history (cf. pp. 16–17). These attempts, however, do not wholly satisfy Mbembe. Once slavery, colonization, and

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apartheid have been acknowledged as factual events that have structured, for Africans, a certain experience of the world and of themselves, and once it is acknowledged that these events are subject to several simultaneous interpretations that constantly derail any attempt at attributing any definitive meaning to these archives, the genuine philosophical labor of sense-making can commence. The one lacuna in African scholarship, which Mbembe points out, has to do with the work of memory. Properly speaking, there is no African memory of slavery. What memory there is is distinctly colored by diffraction. Figments circulate and are invoked mainly to arouse feelings of culpability in the Other while at the same time evading the weight of the peculiar responsibility incumbent upon Africans themselves in the element of tragedy – which is not the only element – in their history (cf. p. 19). Mbembe maintains that at best, “slavery is experienced as a wound whose meaning belongs to the domain of the psychic unconscious” (ibid.). What remains unsaid, unacknowledged, and perhaps even unthought in existing recollections is that troubling aspect of the crime that directly engages their own responsibility: For the fate of black slaves in modernity is not solely the result of the tyrannical will and cruelty of the Other – even though the latter is well-established. The other primitive signifier is the murder of brother by brother. (p. 20)

What is being obscured is the fact that the rapacity of capitalism at the root of the slave trade was concomitant also with murders within the family (fratricides). Continental Africans were not only sold into slavery but sold into slavery by Africans to European slave traders. This repressed reality means that the manner and degree of inflicted trauma, subjugation, and treachery suffered on the two sides of the Atlantic were anything but the same. More importantly, it implies that the appeal to race as the moral and political basis of solidarity among “Africans” flounders in the face of the founding fratricides of the slave trade. In a lecture presented in 2016 (Keynote address titled “Franz Fanon and the Politics of Viscerality” presented at the Franklin Humanities Institute, at Duke University, on 27 April 2016), Mbembe reiterated this point. He argues that things might have changed in South Africa, but they have not changed enough in the sense that the vacation of previous forms of injustice and inequality has ushered in new forms of injustice and inequality that lay bare the painful elision at the heart of slavery, colonization, apartheid, and racism. The fact that slavery was not only the fault of those who bought slaves but also that of those who sold slaves and built their kingdoms on the revenue generated in this way. The fact that colonization and apartheid cannot exclusively be explained based on the logic of us vs. them, black vs. white, autochthonous vs. allochthonous, and settlers vs. natives, because the “we” is internally divided against itself, which is of course also the basic insight that the apartheid regime missed (and which therefore became more foregrounded with the fall of apartheid): keeping us and them apart does not address the internal divide. On the face of things, as noted and might be expected, the burning rage displayed by the new generation seems to be linked to the fundamental disillusionment of what

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postliberation-lived freedom actually means, what it ended up amounting to more than two decades after the fall of apartheid. What has dawned with unambiguous clarity is the realization that the former national liberation movement has become a ransacking organization more invested in profit than in the pressing needs of alleviating the fate of the poorest of the poor. If the original trauma of slavery (fratricide) did indeed remain repressed, or at least unthought or unassimilated into the popular imagination, it could explain why the present trauma of the postliberation ANC’s self-enrichment and other-betrayal, the forsaking of the most vulnerable, resulted in such violent, burning rage. For as Žižek explains, both Freud and Lacan contend that traumatic events that we undergo in the present owe their properly traumatic impact to the way a pre-existing traumatic “psychic reality” (the Real) is aroused through it. Trauma has always already occurred (cf. Žižek 2008: 10–11). Put differently, we are bearing witness to the post-traumatic stress disorder of a generation, which expresses the always already character of the trauma (cf. Malabou 2012: 227). This explains the seemingly inexplicable: the mass social psychosis or communal suicide evident in the barbarity of school burning shrouded under the pretense of legitimate protest action – a sign of a community that has lost its collective mind. If service delivery is at the heart of the demarcation grievances, why burn the most valuable symbol of service to any community, as Tinyiko Maluleke (2016, 24) rightly asks. It exposes this generation as a wounded generation at war with itself (cf. ibid.).

Victim or Agent? The ethical question at the heart of this discussion bears on the position of the “patient” – in this case, the born-free student, toward the traumatic situation. As Verhaeghe puts it: “Either one considers the patient as a mere victim of an external agent, which means s/he is entitled to help and support; or one considers the patient not solely as a victim but as someone with an impact of his or her own, even with a limited form of choice” (Verhaeghe 1998: 88). When this question is raised within a political context, patients will more often than not be considered as victims and survivors. Within a (modern) clinical context, on the contrary, clinicians tend to choose the second approach. Analysts will stress the necessity for emotional distance, that is, for taking your distance from the all too supporting role. The taking away of responsibility from the patient is even considered by some as one of the major therapeutic mistakes. It is argued that it remains the patient’s responsibility to understand what and how things happened to him/her and to choose what attitude will be assumed in relation to the trauma (Verhaeghe explicitly mentions two American psychiatrists, Judith Herman and James Chu, as proponents of this view (cf. Verhaeghe 1998: 88)). These ideas reiterate the original Freudian position on the so-called Neurosenwahl (Cf. Freud 1913. “The Disposition to Obsessional Neurosis. (A Contribution to the Problem of Choice of Neurosis),” in The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud. Volume XI, pp. 317–326.),

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i.e., the choice of neurosis. This choice is precisely the factor that makes psychotherapy possible. The first response implies a complete determinism and thus therapeutic pessimism, even fatalism: the patient has become what he had to become, due to his/her traumatic experiences. The second response, on the other hand, implies a minimal element of choice and implication for the subject, which is precisely the minimal condition for change. Hence the fact that Lacan stresses the “future anterior” in contrast to the “past tense” “I will be what I am now through my choice,” instead of “I am what I already was.” Choices made now will determine the future of the subject (ibid.). In the present context, what is termed “choice” is the impossible double bind of the patient-subject’s “auto-”nomy: the delineated freedom always already determined by a law not of his/her making.

Genealogy as Cure What are we today then? What are we today in relation to the rage of the present generation of students that we face in our lecture halls, in relation to so many #Must Fall campaigns, to so many protest actions, in the face of excruciating political and economic precarity? What are we today in relation to a wounded generation at war with itself? Our students, our children, and our youth are part of a generation split between the appeal “Can’t you see I’m burning?” and the demand for autonomy: we no longer want to be delivered over to a world not of our making, we want – no, we demand to choose for ourselves. Split-subjects caught in the double-bind of their thrownness. Racked with the trauma of recurring betrayal by brothers and others alike, and the responsibility they demand but cannot possibly assume for their own future and fate. As educators, and as those that are themselves determined by the collective guilt of slavery, colonialism, apartheid and racism, we might feel inclined to assume the patriarchal role of aid worker, to empower those victimized by circumstances not of their making, forsaken by their own liberators, in the recognition that we are dealing with a generation that has become what it had to become by virtue of their traumatic circumstances. Or we could heed the advice of the psychoanalyst who insists on distancing oneself from an overly supportive role. This is not to be mistaken for an acquittal or a renouncement of responsibility. We as the previous generation(s), as parents, as educators are irrevocably inscribed in and implicated by the politics of trauma. We therefore find ourselves in the quintessential Levinasian double-bind of an impossible responsibility: a responsibility that we cannot renounce, without ‘murdering the Other’, yet cannot assume without risking re-enacting the patriarchy so emblematic of colonialism and apartheid and thus their continued disempowerment and victimization. We have blood on our hands, yet ‘the child is not dead’. The child demands freedom and justice; the child demands political accountability; the child demands a future. This is the generation whose present is marked by a trauma to which it has no access. If the trauma has been repressed, it has not properly been lived. From a genealogical point of view, what is at stake is not properly a past

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but a moment of arising. Access to such a moment can only be obtained by returning to the point where it was covered over and neutralized by tradition. Tradition serves as a form of solidification or canonization that bars access to actual historical sources. Put differently, we have to return to the point where the split occurred between what is conscious and the unconscious, between historiography and history as event (cf. Agamben 2009: 105–106 citing Melandri). Agamben too – like Lacan – notes the peculiar temporal structure of this excavation. Beyond memory and forgetting what is sought is a past that can only be experienced in its future. The trauma that will have been – repressed trauma’s peculiar temporal structure is that of a future anterior. Furthermore, this repressed trauma (that will have been) stands between the traumatized (generation) and its access to the present. It is at this point that the link can be made between such a genealogical undertaking and our earlier oneiric excursion that led us to psychoanalysis. In his 1954 introduction to Ludwig Binswanger’s Dream and Existence, Foucault notes (contrary to Freud) the intimate tension of the dream toward the future: The essential point of the dream is not so much that is resuscitates the past as that it announces the future. It foretells and announces the moment in which the patient will finally reveal to the analyst the secret [he or she] does not yet know, which is nevertheless the heaviest burden of [his or her] present. . . The dream anticipates the moment of freedom. It constitutes a harbinger of history, before being the compelled repetition of the traumatic past. (cited by Agamben 2009: 106)

Finally, I have come to a point where I can venture a response to the problem, which prompted the foregoing meandering line of investigation: what is trauma to the future? What we have been able to ascertain is that trauma is untimely. It belongs not to the past but blocks its victims from gaining access to their present. A repressed traumatic event is therefore not past but contemporaneous with the present. Its recovery requires the genealogical excavation of the sources of history [Historie] as discipline in order to reanimate history as event [historicality or Geschichtlichkeit] Heidegger (2001). (A distinction originally made by Heidegger in Being and Time in 1927. See, e.g., p. 381: “The proposition, ‘Dasein is historical,’ is confirmed as a fundamental existential ontological assertion. This assertion is far removed from the mere ontical establishment of the fact that Dasein is the basis for a possible kind of historiological understanding which in turn carries with it the possibility of getting a special grasp of the development of historiology as a science.” See especially Division II: Section V: “Temporality and Historicality” (pp. 424–455).) In such a way, the traumatic event, which was repressed, can be experienced for the first time in its future. Trauma has not just always already occurred (Lacan), but due to its repression, trauma will have been. In Nietzschean terms, the genealogical unlocking of the will have been might be conceived as an engagement with history for the sake of life. From a genealogical point of view, it’s not so much a restoration of a previous event or stage as Freud would have it, but a decomposition and overcoming of a past trauma to disarm it as over-determinative of the future that follows.

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References Agamben, G. 2009. The signature of all things: On method. Trans. Luca D’Isanto and Kevin Attell. New York: Zone Books. Appiah, K.A. 1992. In my father’s house: Africa in the philosophy of culture. Oxford: Oxford University Press. De Beauvoir, S. 2010. [1949]. The second sex. Trans. Constance Borde and Sheila MalovanyChevallier. New York: Knopf. Eze, E.C. 1997. Postcolonial African philosophy. A critical reader. Massachusetts: Blackwell. Foucault, M. 1971. [1984]. Nietzsche, genealogy, history. In The Foucault reader, ed. P. Rabinow. New York: Pantheon Books, 76-100. Foucault, M. 1978. [2007]. What is critique?. In The politics of truth. Michel Foucault, ed. Sylvère Lotringer. Trans. Lysa Hochroth and Catherine Porter, 41–82. Foucault, M. 1984. [2007]. What is enlightenment?”. In The politics of truth. Michel Foucault, ed. Sylvère Lotringer. Trans. Lysa Hochroth and Catherine Porter, 97–120. Foucault, M. and Binswanger, L. 1994. [1954]. Dream and existence, ed. Keith Hoeller. New Jersey: Humanities Press. Freud, S. 1913. The disposition to obsessional neurosis. (A contribution to the problem of choice of neurosis). In The standard edition of the complete psychological works of Sigmund Freud. Volume XI (1910): Five lectures on psycho-analysis, Leonardo da Vinci and other works. Trans. J. Strachey. London: Hogarth Press and The Institute of Psycho-analysis, 317–326. Freud, S. 1917. A general introduction to psychoanalysis. Available as a pdfbook: https:// eduardolbm.files.wordpress.com/2014/10/a-general-introduction-to-psychoanalysis-sigmund-freud. pdf Freud, S. 1997. [1900]. The interpretation of dreams. Trans. A. A. Brill. Hertfordshire: Wordsworth Editions Limited. Heidegger, M. 2001. [1927]. Being and time. Trans. John Macquarrie and Edward Robinson. Oxford: Blackwell. Hofmeyr, A.B. 2016. 'Mother, Can’t You See I’m Burning?’ A few remarks on our time (in Afrikaans: “‘Ma, kan Ma dan nie sien dat ek aan die brand is nie?’ Enkele opmerkings oor wat ons vandag is”). Tydskrif vir Geesteswetenskappe 57 (1): 114–125. Hook, D. 2017. The subject of psychology. A Lacanian critique. Social and Personality Psychology Compass 11 (5): e12316. https://doi.org/10.1111/spc.3.12316. Irigaray, L. 1985. [1974]. Speculum of the other woman. Trans. Gillian C. Gill. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Jonker, I. 1994. Collected works [in Afrikaans]. Cape Town: Human & Rousseau [Trans. Antjie Krog and André Brink. 2007. Black butterflies. Cape Town: Human & Rousseau]. Lacan, J. 1979. [1964]. Seminar XI: The four fundamental concepts of psycho-analysis. London: Penguin. Levinas, E. 1979. [1961]. Totality and infinity. Trans. Alphonso Lingis. The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff. Levinas, E. 1985. [1982]. Ethics and infinity. Conversations with Philippe Nemo. Trans. Richard A. Cohen. Pittsburgh: Duquesne University Press. Levinas, E. 1987. Collected philosophical papers. Trans. Alphonso Lingis. Dordrecht: Martinus Nijhoff Publishers. Levinas, E. 1991. [1974]. Otherwise than being or beyond essence. Trans. Alphonso Lingis. Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic Publishers. Malabou, C. 2012. Post-trauma. Towards a new definition?. In Telemorphosis. Theory in the era of climate change, ed. T. Cohen, vol. 1, 226–239. Ann Arbor: Open Humanities Press. Online: http://quod.lib.umich.edu/o/ohp/10539563.0001.001/1:12/%2D%2Dtelemorp. . .-theory-in-theera-of-climate-change-vol-1?rgn=div1;view=fulltext. Maluleke, T. 2016. A people at war with themselves. Mail & Guardian, 13–19 Mei 2016, 24. Mbembe, A. 2001. African modes of self-writing. Idenity, Politics and Culture 2 (1): 2–39.

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Mbembe, A. 2016. Frantz Fanon and the politics of viscerality. Keynote address delivered at the Franklin Humanities Institute, Duke University, on 27 Apr 2016. Online: https://www.youtube. com/watch?v=lg_BEodNaEA. Mudimbe, V.Y. 1988. The invention of Africa: Prognosis, philosophy and the order of knowledge. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Mudimbe, V.Y. 1994. The idea of Africa. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Nietzsche, F. 1997. [1874]. On the uses and disadvantages of history for life. In Untimely meditations. Trans. R.J. Hollingdale. London: Cambridge University Press, 57-124. Verhaeghe, P. 1998. Trauma and hysteria within Freud and Lacan. The Letter: Lacanian Perspectives on Psychoanalysis 14: 87–105. Žižek, S. 2008. Descartes and the post-traumatic subject. Filozofski vestnik 29 (2): 9–29.

Class Identity, Xenophobia, and Xenophilia Nuancing Migrant Experience in South Africa’s Diverse Cultural Time Zones

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Contents Deadly Xenophobia as a Socio-spatial Phenomenon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . (De)Valuing Cultural Capital in Xenophobia/Xenophilia . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Skin Color as Cultural Capital . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Linguistic Cultural Capital . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Borders and Translating Linguistic Cultural Capital . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . “Cosmo”-local CTZs, “Coconuts,” and Global Culture . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Frontier Migrants and Socio-spatial Privilege in the CTZs of the Globalizing City . . . . . . . . . . Traversing the City: Migrant Experience Contrasted . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion: Xenophobia and Xenophilia as Dialectics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

In 2008 and 2015, South Africa’s most deadly and violent xenophobic attacks erupted. Dozens of people were killed and thousands displaced. The dominant storyline in the media and the academy cast the figure of the migrant as the perpetual victim of xenophobia and as the ultimate Other. There was not enough emphasis on nuancing that statement to indicate that it is not all migrants who run the risk of deadly xenophobia even though xenophobia is pervasive across all South African socioeconomic classes. Deadly attacks only took place in specific microspaces or Cultural Time Zones (CTZs). Those living in the CTZ of the informal settlement (shanty town) were most vulnerable. Migrants in economically privileged CTZs like the wealthy suburbs do not typically become victims of xenophobic violence. In this chapter, I attempt to examine

M. T. Myambo (*) Centre for Indian Studies in Africa, Wits City Institute, Wits University, Johannesburg, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_22

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the relationship between (micro)space and migrant experience. Through an analysis of South African cities as a cluster of radically different CTZs where language, skin color, race/ethnicity, education, socioeconomic class, etc., function in different ways to impact the migrant experience, I try to uncover the nuanced reasons why working-class migrants who work and live in socioeconomically deprived CTZs may experience violent xenophobia while middle-class professionals, especially those from Western countries, often enjoy high levels of xenophilia. This chapter employs the philosophy of Cultural Time Zone theory to explain this paradox and explore how some migrants are considered culturally “closer” to the South African Self while some are viewed as culturally more “distant” Others. Keywords

Frontier migration · Xenophobia · Xenophilia · Uneven development · Language · Skin color · Urban space

When scholars study transnational migration, they analyze it in terms of crossing national borders. They approach migration through a national lens as the movement of a Mexican national to the USA or a French citizen to Indonesia. The presumption is that the migrant crosses one border at the port of entry and thus moves from one country to another. What I will be arguing here is that (a) every country is divided by multiple internal borders; (b) nowhere are those multiple borders more visible than in the global(izing) city (Leildé 2008: 2); (c) parts of global(izing) cities are more “global”/transnational than “local”/subnational, which in turn impacts the migration experience (Myambo 2017b; c); and (d) migrants who occupy the city’s middle-class “global”/transnational microspaces are less likely to experience (deadly) xenophobia than migrants living in more working-class “local”/subnational microspaces. I call these microspaces Cultural Time Zones (CTZs). (“Global” and “local” are in quotation marks because they are merely shorthand terms. Many “local” CTZs are very globalized and genuinely cosmopolitan and boast large migrant populations, but I use “global” here in the sense that Starbucks is a globally omnipresent, transnational chain of coffee shops. “Global,” like “cosmopolitan,” is often a euphemism for Western, and thus the reader should be aware of all these connotations.) Middle-class migrants who traverse the global(izing) city’s “global”/transnational CTZs like the gated residential community, the securitized office complex, the fancy mall, the elite gym, the international school, the hipster bar, and the cappuccino-serving café may sometimes encounter xenophobic attitudes, but they do not normally risk being beaten or killed because they are foreigners. Working-class migrants, who live in shanty towns, hustle a living on street corners, shop in “local” (open air) markets, socialize in “local” taverns, and attend services in “local” places of worship run a higher risk of encountering anti-foreigner violence (Gqola 2008; Landau 2010; Azari 2012; Spitz 2017). My

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goal in this chapter is to understand the migrant experience in all its nuances, and to do so, we need to have a more fine-grained understanding of place as it relates to the construction, expression, and performance of identity of both the local and the foreigner. We understand nothing about the migrant’s life when we speak of a Brazilian national moving to Tanzania. We can only understand the daily lived experiences of the migrant when we find out what CTZs she occupies. Identities of the local Self and foreign Other are relational, situational, and “sitespecific.” Identity emerges in this study as fluid, intersectional, and constructed, as is space, and migrant experience depends on how these two social constructs interact. I came to realize the need for a more fine-grained, systematic approach to dissecting and analyzing national space through my study of frontier migrants leaving industrialized countries in North America, the European Union, the United Kingdom, Japan, and South Korea to live and work in the emerging market economies of China, India, and South Africa in the era of post-Cold War globalization (See American Dream Abroad: Privileged Frontier Migrants in the Global South Africa (forthcoming) and Myambo 2017a for more on frontier migration and related concepts. This chapter consists of material condensed from American Dream Abroad). Frontier migration refers to the move of people, technology, capital, and ideas from a more “developed” to a less “developed” economy. In my ongoing fieldwork studying multiracial frontier migrants and comparing their lives with those of less privileged migrant populations, the need for a philosophy of space in relation to identity (and vice versa) became clear. Nowhere is this more starkly illustrated than in the divergent experiences of xenophobia and xenophilia for different types of migrants. Xenophobia, it should be noted, is not a particularly South African problem; it is a problem in all immigrant-receiving nations. Outbreaks of “racist violence” in Europe are a common occurrence (Castles and Miller 2009: 265–268) as is increasing Islamophobia against Muslim foreigners and others perceived as culturally distant from the white European majority. In the USA, Donald Trump’s candidacy was rocket-boosted by his anti-Mexican prejudice, but globally, as in South Africa, xenophobia is a socio-spatial phenomenon. In other words, a Mexican migrant living in the CTZ of Manhattan’s West Village in diversity-rich New York City will normally face far less xenophobia than the same migrant living in some counties in Texas or some neighborhoods in Phoenix, Arizona. Hence, while the Trump administration advocates a xenophobic national policy toward immigrants, not all migrants will necessarily experience xenophobic prejudice because the USA is divided, like every country, by myriad (cultural, linguistic, ethnic, religious, socioeconomic, etc.) borders which split the nation’s macropsace into CTZs. We all live our lives on a microscale in the CTZs we frequent in our daily lives. Additionally, the neoliberal global economy has resulted in increasing income inequality and uneven development, a structural feature of capitalism, which is further splintering polities into a small, wealthy elite and an increasing number of poor and precarious (Harvey 2005; Smith 2008). Nowhere is this more evident than in neoliberal South Africa (see Myambo 2011).

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Owing to its legacy of apartheid, also known as a system of racial capitalism, and in its present incarnation as one of the most unequal countries in the world according to the Gini coefficient, South Africa is “an internally divided and highly unequal society. . .[full of] old apartheid-era fences and divides” (Sichone 2008: 257). Xenophobic sentiment is often expressed by high-level politicians, in the country’s media and institutionalized in some state policies which all contribute to xenophobia (Hassim et al. 2008; Bond et al. 2010), but although studies have shown that “South Africans of different [class, racial, ethnic] backgrounds are equally xenophobic. . .there is a tendency to blame [xenophobia] entirely on the poor” (Sichone 2008: 258). Yet, we must interrogate this paradoxical conundrum: if xenophobia is present at all levels of society, why do middle-class migrants rarely become victims of xenophobic violence? Firstly, we must differentiate between xenophobic attitudes and xenophobic violence. There are very few studies of middle-class migrants in South Africa, but in my own primary qualitative research on about forty “highly-skilled” frontier migrants who have moved from “First World” countries to South Africa, we find that not a single one of them experienced, or feared, becoming a victim of xenophobic violence. In fact, often, as citizens of highly regarded Western countries like the USA, the UK, Germany, Sweden, etc., they are the recipients of warm xenophilia. I will try to illustrate in this chapter that there is a dialectical relationship between xenophobia and xenophilia in the context of South Africa’s extreme uneven development, high levels of income inequality, and dynamics of spatialized precariousness and privilege.

A luxurious house in Dainfern Estate, an elite-gated community in Johannesburg’s northern suburbs

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Informal settlement in Alexandra township which is located in Africa’s richest square mile, Johannesburg’s Sandton in the northern suburbs

Working-class migrants who frequent less privileged, more precarious CTZs like the township, and more particularly the informal settlement, inner-city neighborhoods, the spaza shop (small tuckshop), the shebeen (tavern), etc., live in a vastly different Johannesburg in which being a foreigner can sometimes translate into being attacked or even killed. (Townships, like suburbs, informal settlements, etc., are highly variegated and complex spaces so these broad terms are merely shorthand to facilitate discussion). Violent, deadly xenophobia in South Africa is, therefore, a socio-spatial phenomenon. French philosopher, Henri Lefebvre’s assertion that space is produced and producing of social relations (see also Harvey 2005; Smith 2008; Leonard 2013), has become a truism in urban studies but perhaps, nowhere is this more apparent than in South Africa’s extremely unequal, unevenly developed urbanscape. Every city has a “specific spatial and social context” (Bolay 2006: 286), and South Africa’s particular apartheid legacy in which the city and suburbs – “luxurious and cocooned enclaves” (Leonard 2013: 98) – were reserved for comparatively wealthier whites and blacks, Indians, and so-called Coloureds (mixed race people) were relegated to the bleak townships on the city’s periphery still structures urban space today (Myambo 2019). Apartheid was literally an attempt to spatially divide the population along racial, ethnic, and linguistic lines which were aggressively linked to socioeconomic class thus creating multiple CTZs conditioned by racial and spatial segregation and a form of social engineering designed to create and maintain uneven development. This spatial legacy continues to influence xenophobic sentiment today.

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The city, then, is crisscrossed by myriad borders, some more visible than others. Scholars who study migration refer to the “context of reception” as in how will migrant from X country be received in Y country. But there is no national context of reception because there are myriad South Africas and therefore myriad South Africas made up of myriad divergent and complex CTZs. Understanding the experience of different types of migrants in South Africa will, therefore, require a comprehensive analysis of the different types of CTZs they occupy and the spatial politics at play as these in turn influence identity, identification, and relations between the Self and the Other. Space is of course implicitly and explicitly related to race, ethnicity, socioeconomic class, language, and so on, but drawing on the philosophy of CTZ theory, a concept of space in relationship to the cultural matrix and time (history, tradition, etc.), studies of working-class African migrants and some of my own primary research on middle-class frontier migrants to South Africa, I attempt to explain not only xenophobia but also xenophilia. What does it have to do with the material reality of these different groups’ spatial practices as they navigate the segregated city which is demarcated by racial, cultural, linguistic, and socioeconomic borders? How much does xenophobia and of course, xenophilia, have to do with different CTZs and the denigration or valorization of different types of cultural capital? (A Cultural Time Zone consists of three interdependent elements: cultural time, time zone/spatial zone, and cultural capital. Once a certain “zone” has been identified – let’s say a gated community or a village – we have to try and identify what type of cultural time(s) it is operating on and which is dominant – e.g., capitalist “clock-time” and/or the Islamic calendar, etc. – and then determine what forms of cultural capital translate into the dominant cultural time. CTZs are fully explained in CULTURAL TIME ZONES: Splintered Nation, Networked Neighborhood (forthcoming)). One of the central tenets of CTZ theory is the notion of cultural capital (know-how, cultural competence) which I derive from French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu but also expand upon (Bourdieu 1984, 1986, 1999). To navigate a CTZ successfully, migrants need to have the types of cultural capital (language, physiognomy, fashion, gender, skin color, education, possession of a smartphone, etc.) that translate well into the “cultural time(s)” of the “zone” they occupy. Migrants who possess the “wrong” types of cultural capital that do not translate well can experience more friction in certain “zones.” Overarching notions of how South Africans differentially valorize particular types of cultural capital (i.e., different identities) also greatly impact the migrant’s experience. Translation, the notion of cultural distance/cultural kilometers, and various other elements of CTZ theory will become clearer as I compare the experiences of privileged frontier migrants from Western countries, both black and white, to those of working-class African and Asian migrants who live in more precarious CTZs. Ultimately, I aim to illustrate that the migrant experience is determined by their different forms of cultural capital which enable or prevent them from experiencing more or less “friction” in different types of South African CTZs, and I hope to bring more nuance to understanding the migrant experience. Class identity, which relates closely to certain forms of cultural (and economic) capital like “global” English and thus particular CTZs, overdetermines the migrant’s daily life.

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Deadly Xenophobia as a Socio-spatial Phenomenon In 2008, South Africa’s most deadly and violent xenophobic attacks erupted. Sixty-two people were killed, (mis)identified as African foreign nationals, although about a third were actually South Africans. Since then, “over 400 immigrants, refugees, asylumseekers and those viewed as ‘outsiders’ have been killed in similar events” (Hiropoulos 2017) including a particularly violent period in 2015. In addition to the killings, there are also brutal rapes, beatings, forced evictions, and lootings inflicted on foreigners, primarily African foreign nationals, and some South Asian shop owners. Extensive research has revealed multiple reasons for the attacks including the tendency to scapegoat foreigners for social ills, job competition, relative deprivation, and South African exceptionalism (See Holder 2012, 23 to 29 for a full overview of commonly accredited causes of xenophobia. See also Harris 2002). All violence in South Africa should be understood in relation to the society’s generalized structural violence built atop a supremely violent apartheid era and as part of a continuum of violence (against women, associated with crime, etc.) in a structurally unequal neoliberal economy characterized by profound dispossession (Myambo 2011). Widespread precariousness undergirds the life of the average South African exacerbating xenophobia: Contributing factors to the xenophobic outburst include structural, social, economic and spatial inequalities as well as a general reliance on cheap labor, housing shortages, township retail competition, racism, a general history of violence to advance sectional interests and a scarred national psyche. . .poor service delivery, high interest rates, high costs of living, competition over Reconstruction and Development Programme (RDP) housing, corrupt government officials, and high unemployment rates. (Holder 2012: 31)

Additionally, competition over women is a frequently cited cause of xenophobic violence. In the patriarchal discourse in which South African men “own” South African women, it is commonly said that foreigners are “stealing” women and there is a complementary narrative in popular culture that holds that South African women do prefer foreign men because they have jobs, are better off, and treat them with more respect. This form of female xenophilia for foreign men ironically leads to increased xenophobia toward them from South African men. Overall, the social drivers of xenophobic violence which is largely perpetrated by men are multiple and complex but are intimately related to the spatial as illustrated in the work of Eric Holder who sought to map xenophobic violence and model spatial relationships to identify xenophobic-prone “hotspots” which tend to be areas where “large numbers of African non-nationals [are] living in close proximity to poor South Africans in squalid and congested urban living spaces. . .breeding extreme social discontent” (33). Thus, applying a spatial lens in mapping where attacks have taken place, a clear spatial pattern emerges showing that “most attacks appear to occur in townships and areas surrounding hostels” (Hiropoulos 2017). Xenophobic incidents also happen on overcrowded public transport like the mobile CTZs of trains and the “taxis” (commuter omnibuses).

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At the most basic level, though, and in the interests of stating the spatially obvious, vulnerability to violence is made more or less possible by actual physical barriers. Living behind a six-foot-tall wall topped with electric wires as is typical in the wealthy suburbs will make a middle-class migrant safer than living in a defenseless shack made of bits of cast-off metal and plastic. Selling wares on a street corner in “public spaces. . .contribute[s] to the vulnerability” of African migrants who “find themselves hustling and negotiating their existence in uncertain spaces” (Azari 2012: 39–41). Xenophobic violence therefore is directly related to certain spaces and consequently, not correlated with others (see Azari 2012: 70). Once we recognize that space is absolutely central to the question of violent xenophobia and, dialectically, xenophilia, we must pursue a better understanding of social space, spatial practice, and South African perceptions of different migrants (and their multiple types of cultural capital). In the next section, we explore typical South African stereotypes, both positive and negative, in how they perceive foreigners.

(De)Valuing Cultural Capital in Xenophobia/Xenophilia In 2015, when violent xenophobia again came to national and international attention when over 1000 foreign-owned spaza shops in townships and informal settlements were attacked by xenophobic looters, Chris Barron, a South African journalist, interviewed the president of the South African Spaza and Tuckshop Association, Rose Nkosi, to find out why the attacks had flared up again. This interview ran in one of the national papers, and Ms. Nkosi here expresses some of the commonly held attitudes toward African nationals which contribute to xenophobia, but she also simultaneously conveys many of the assumptions about frontier migrants’ cultural capital that reduce their risk of becoming victims of violent xenophobia. Like many South Africans, Ms. Nkosi presumes frontier migrants to be white, “highly-skilled,” and well-educated thus “adding value” to a developing economy in need of their “expertise” (all of these are forms of cultural capital). Additionally, the racial and spatial dynamics of xenophobia in the context of desperate impoverishment and uneven development are evident in her response: Why. . .so much violence against foreigners? Foreigners have occupied most of our space for their spaza shops. . . Is there an element of xenophobia in all this? Not. If it’s xenophobia, what about the white person who comes from overseas? Why is it only black foreigners from Africa the people hate? They don’t hate, they are perturbed. Because don’t come when I am suffering, because then you become a problem in my vicinity when I am having a problem myself. Your people [whites] come with experience, they come with the right papers. You understand where I’m coming from? Do the right thing in the rightful manner and be known well what you are coming with and what you are going to be doing. Are you employing? These people [from Africa] are not employing. These people are doing what we are doing in our own spaces. (Barron 2015, my emphasis)

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Ms. Nkosi lays out here all the stereotypical South African views about both African migrants and privileged frontier migrants from “overseas.” They are assumed to be white (not always the case, in fact about a third of the frontier migrants I interviewed were black), they are assumed to be in the country legally (not always the case), and they are supposed to bring experience and skills and finance capital to create jobs (not always the case). Nkosi here demonstrates that First World cultural and economic capital is welcome in South Africa because as a “developing” country, the nation welcomes those from the more “developed” world (see Myambo 2017a). In Europe and the USA, as in South Africa, it is assumed that immigrants coming from less “developed” economies are either refugees from political instability or are economic migrants (see Leildé 2008, 158–161). Au contraire, when frontier migrants come to South Africa, it is assumed they are there by choice which is another element that contributes to their privilege. As Matt (all migrant names are pseudonyms), a white American architect from New York now living in Jo’burg, explained to me: [South Africans ask me], ‘Why would you choose to be here?’ I think that there are two things behind it. . .I get it from all sides. I get it from your white merchant banker and the black car guard. I think that it is a general. . .the grass is always greener. And I don’t know what it is about New York in particular, I think the States in general, Europe in general, people look up to it. (Matt, white American architect, 30s (my emphasis))

Although my research has indicated that many frontier migrants are in fact economic migrants, seeking out better opportunity, in the court of public opinion, frontier migrants are never seen as economic refugees, thanks to international uneven development which results in an hierarchy of nations. A developing country like South Africa is trying to become developed, and thus South Africans in general look up to Europeans and Americans. Also, privileged frontier migrants do not occupy the same space – literal and metaphorical and cultural and physical – as the South African majority who live very precarious lives, with up to 54–55% of the population living below the poverty line depending on how one cooks the figures (Grant 2015; Musgrave 2015). Nkosi implicitly suggests that frontier migrants are not competing with working-class South Africans “in our own spaces.” In other words, frontier migrants are seen as adding value in a different sphere of the South African economy located in a different CTZ and their cultural capital is highly valorized. African working-class migrants, on the other hand, who live and work among South Africa’s precarious classes are viewed as direct competitors who do not create employment. Although the presence of foreign workers does somewhat decrease South African workers’, especially male workers’, success in the labor market (Broussard 2017), some scholars have debunked this notion (Kalitanyi and Visser 2010), proving that African migrants do create businesses which create jobs for locals (however, this research is yet to filter into the public sphere and change this deeply held opinion which depends on national stereotypes). Stereotypes about

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Africans are often negative, whereas stereotypes about Westerners are often positive, and this of course impacts how the migrant is perceived (and therefore treated), and South African opinions about migrants also reflect how they value or devalue different types of migrant cultural capital. In Bourdieu’s conception of cultural capital, there is only one type of cultural capital, and people have more or less of it (Bourdieu 1984, 1986, 1999). In my version, there are multiple types of cultural capital. For example, eating with a fork and knife is a form of Western cultural capital, and eating with chopsticks is a form of Asian cultural capital. Bourdieu lists four types of cultural capital: embodied (e.g., dispositions), objectified (e.g., art), institutionalized (e.g., degrees), and symbolic (e.g., Levi-Strauss’ preface to The Gift). I expand upon his notion in several ways. For example, I include gender, ethnicity, race, religion, and physiognomy in my use of embodied cultural capital, and I also focus on the notion of linguistic cultural capital. Taking just two forms of cultural capital – skin color and language – we can see how migrants in precarious CTZs become victims of xenophobia and “othered,” whereas privileged migrants who live in middle-class CTZs, and even occasionally work in precarious CTZs, do not. Space, race, color, and language map onto each other and onto divergent CTZs.

Skin Color as Cultural Capital . . .Even during the [2008] xenophobic attacks, I was here. So I was thinking, should I feel like it would also affect me possibly? Because obviously it’s about foreigners, and it was never anything like that against me or anyone from other countries, other non-African countries. It felt really unfair and really strange, but I also know that that was the whole. . .That’s the whole conflict. It’s a very different kind of issue that the xenophobia was about. I’ve never really felt that. (Bregtje, white Dutch Developmental Community Theater Maker, 30s)

Not a single privileged frontier migrant I interviewed reported experiencing a single instance of violence spurred on by xenophobia. Less than 4% had ever even encountered anyone whom they felt was hostile toward them because they were foreigners. As Bregtje here explains, they were all aware that working-class immigrants from African countries, “strangely” and “unfairly,” became the sacrificial victims for frustrated South Africans who scapegoat them for myriad social ills. Most frontier migrants explained the xenophobic attacks as “poor-on-poor” violence which results from an ongoing struggle over resources as reflected in much mainstream research on xenophobia (see also Hassim et al. 2008; Bond et al. 2010). But what we see very clearly in the qualitative data from frontier migrants both implicitly and explicitly in their discussions of xenophobia is the notion of distance, both cultural and literal. Xenophobia was something that happened to foreigners but foreigners who were culturally “different” from frontier migrants and physically located in poorer CTZs. Agatha, a British-American journalist in her 30s, said frankly, “If you’ve got the means, then you’re kind of protected from. . . all that kind of discrimination.

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The highly-skilled migration that you’re looking at, it’s a very different experience obviously than the xenophobia [which] has been very much in the townships and it’s directed, poor against poor really.” It is likewise clear in Bregtje’s analysis that she considers herself removed from the “day-to-day life” matrix in which xenophobic attacks can occur as she explains below. Although she goes into the townships around Cape Town for work, she does not live or work there every day as many working-class African migrants do; hence she does not worry about becoming a victim: Because [xenophobia]’s more to do with poverty and people being very poor and feeling like other people are coming in and taking over their jobs. . .They see it in their communities. They see little like shebeens [local taverns] coming up and little shops coming up of Somalians who are making a little business and are maybe driving a nicer car or who are getting homes, and they’re still not getting homes, so it was more things that they were seeing in the day to day life which I’m not part of. . .They weren’t really looking at foreign people from other [non-African] countries to be a threat to their immediate income. (Bregtje, white Dutch Developmental Community Theater Maker, 30s (my emphasis))

Frontier migrants are not “immediately” viewed as a threat, as we saw in Ms. Nkosi’s attitudes also, simply because they do not coexist in subnational, “local” spaces as peers, neighbors, co-workers, lovers, etc. where they can become direct competitors. Frontier migrants’ daily life is far removed from these dynamics except perhaps as potential employers or as distant observers. As we saw with Matt, many South Africans welcome frontier migrants because Europeans and Americans have the kind of cultural capital they value – “skills,” experience, and the know-how necessary to the modern-day economy which of course is a Euro-American construct. Bregtje emphasizes these points: In general I feel very welcome. I think also people I’ve worked with and studied with, they were super open. They were very curious about learning about, knowing where I come from, what I do, what I want to do here. Lots of people are really interested. . .I think because many people think of Europe as this wonderful place of opportunity and of education also, I think that’s why many people are quite open to having [me]. . .If you come there and you offer to work with them, they’ve been really eager and very open about it because they wanted to learn more and also gain skills and sometimes in a very idealistic way. They were almost expecting too much from my side. I’ve had lots of people that I was able to work with and lots of collaborations that I would be able to start up because people were really willing to work with you and really open to. . .There’s a lot of space for new things. There’s a lot of space for things, and there’s lots of space for starting up any kind of initiative so I’ve always felt very welcome in whatever I wanted to do and with whoever I wanted to. (Bregtje, white Dutch Developmental Community Theater Maker, 30s (my emphasis))

For Bregtje, space is metaphorical here. Although she works in the townships where there is a literal contestation occurring over space between migrants and locals (Spitz 2017), her vaunted European cultural capital opens doors and opens up spaces of collaboration in a figurative sense. Most frontier migrants only enter precarious CTZs like the township or informal settlement for work or some charitable endeavor, and their privilege derives from the valorization of their First World cultural capital

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which allows them to enter these spaces on an unofficial “temporary visa” granted on the basis of their whiteness/foreignness/assumed expertise. In other words, the fact that they are normally culturally and spatially distant from the precarious classes and the black South African Self actually shields them from the daily forms of prejudice which plague working-class foreigners who are much “nearer,” literally, symbolically and metaphorically. Similarly, Cynthia, a white American journalist who often had to go into more precarious CTZs for her work in urban, peri-urban, and rural areas, was well aware that her white privilege and First World cultural capital enabled her to move safely through these spaces: If anything, I think I’m surprised by how often as a white American, people are still afraid to confront or challenge me in some way. . .I think there are times in which probably the color of my skin gives me power in their eyes in a way that is still quite uncomfortable for me. In which case I’m treated . . . They defer to me or they . . . You know what I’m saying. That’s I think especially true outside of Johannesburg and especially true amongst lowerskilled workers or. . .workers with lower levels of education. . .Let’s say I needed to get access to a place. . .You walk in and assert a certain kind of authority and people would be afraid to say, ‘What right do you have to be here?’ Whatever. It’s interesting. . . Doing a lot of stories in like rural townships, I don’t blend in and so people I think . . . People have really gone out of their way to make sure I get what I need as a journalist or help me out to tell their story or whatever in a way that’s sometimes quite surprising. I don’t think you’d get the same response in the US. (Cynthia, white American journalist, 30s (my emphasis))

Frontier migrants, like all city denizens, navigate the city with mental maps peppered with CTZs which they mark as closer or further away from them in terms of culture, class, religion, race, ethnicity, etc. But as Cynthia and Bregtje make clear, they can easily traverse culturally “distant” CTZs because they do not blend in. Their skin color is a form of cultural capital that increases their privilege, but this becomes more interesting when compared with African migrants. Where not blending in can be a boon to a frontier migrant in a township, blending in can sometimes become life saving for a foreigner trying to avoid a mob. During xenophobic attacks, mobs identify foreigners through various methods of reading their physiognomy, primarily “dark” skin and vaccination marks on the upper arm. Some scholars argue that the black South African population suffers from “not simply xenophobia, but specifically negrophobic” xenophobia based on a self-hating “negrophobia” (Gqola 2008; Mngxitama 2008: 197; Matshikiza 2008: 235) which manifests itself against “darker-skinned” African nationals from other African countries. It is a common stereotype in South Africa that those north of the border are much darker, but this does not hold true since South Africa’s multiethnic black African population runs the gamut from pale yellow to deep brown (e.g., South Africans from the Venda ethnic group are often identified as foreigners because they have darker skin). However, because of this stereotype combined with South Africa’s apartheid legacy of racialization, the xenophobic attacks are often viewed through a racial lens, but can we reduce xenophobia to a form of negrophobia, Afrophobia, or a misguided case of “black-on-black” violence?

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In the South African case, it is not wrong to assume that race and skin color are part of the dynamics animating xenophobic violence. But race and skin color cannot fully explain this violence because it is not just whites whom are exempt: not all black foreigners suffer this extreme form of xenophobia. Middle-class foreign African nationals do not typically experience violent xenophobia, and the privileged frontier heritage migrants I interviewed who included African Americans, Afro-Germans, and Black British mostly tended to view their brown skin as a benefit in South Africa and as a valuable form of cultural capital (Myambo 2017a) because the middle-class CTZs which they frequented operate on a different “cultural time” and thus skin color/race/ethnicity/nationality sometimes translate differently.

Linguistic Cultural Capital Xenophobic mobs rampaging through the streets in search of foreigners to beat and kill would also test them by asking them if they knew the word elbow or meerkat in isiZulu. Even though Zulu is only one of South Africa’s eleven official languages, it is the dominant lingua franca of township and informal settlement life in Gauteng Province along with SeSotho. The inability to answer this question could result in death. When working-class African migrants enter the township or informal settlement, intending to live and/or work there, they become part of the “day-to-day” socioeconomic fabric and are quickly expected to assimilate to the “cultural time” of those precarious CTZs by acquiring the major forms of necessary cultural capital: an African language such as Xhosa, Zulu, Sotho, SePedi, Tswana and/or Afrikaans, and English. As stated above, their inability to assimilate or integrate can in the worst-case scenario result in their death. Yet, in stark contrast, part of the privilege of being a middle-class (frontier) migrant is that one does not have to learn a local language because one does not have to survive in the subnational/“local” CTZs in which a competition over space, both literal and metaphorical, becomes a factor impacting violent xenophobia. To wit, not a single one of the frontier migrants I interviewed could speak Zulu or any other indigenous language; the migrants from the Netherlands could speak Afrikaans as it is a derivative of Dutch, but not a single migrant had learned a whole new language. Less than 10% even expressed the desire to learn Zulu. Like many white South Africans or middle-class migrants from both African and non-African countries, frontier migrants did not need to learn Zulu to function in their everyday lives because the lingua franca of privileged CTZs in South Africa is English. Therefore, and this is the crucial point, the frontier migrant’s normal, “day-to-day” CTZs require a kind of cultural capital that they already possess (even European migrants had mostly acquired English-speaking skills before arriving in South Africa). Like space, language is both literal but also metaphorical. In South Africa, (home) language is one of the most potent markers of ethnic, racial, national affiliation, socioeconomic class, and identity. Language functions as an important form of cultural capital, and different languages are necessary for different CTZs. (Accents are also a form of cultural capital as we will see later.)

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Language is deeply symbolic and illustrative of power relations. When African migrants speak their own native tongues, xenophobic South Africans call them “Makwerekwere,” a pejorative onomatopoeic term which is “derived from kwere kwere, a sound that their unintelligible languages were supposed to make, according to the locals” (Mpe 2001: 20). CTZs in which precarious migrants and precarious nationals try to coexist, because of the cultural distance between them epitomized by linguistic difference, can become the crucibles of violent xenophobia. Whereas middle-class and Euro-American migrants benefit from cultural distance from the black South African Self, working-class migrants do not. Ironically meanwhile, in those “global”/transnational CTZs, cultural proximity is possible because in those spaces, global English – the language of globalization – is the dominant language. As we can see here, perceptions of the migrant’s identity is site-specific and relational.

Borders and Translating Linguistic Cultural Capital When Angus, an African American leadership coach and long-time South African resident, was explaining to me how easy his transition from the USA to South Africa was he referred to language as both literal mode of communication but also as symbolic: English was really the unifying language in the country, so although you had many different languages – Zulu, Sotho, Xhosa, Tswana, Ndebele, you know – Zulu was the primary African language, but English was the unifying language, so in business, everyone spoke in English, and anyone who really wanted to integrate into the mainstream of society had to speak English, so I didn’t have a language barrier. (Angus, black American Executive Leadership Coach, 50s)

The “mainstream of society” seems to be equated here with the “business” community (because Zulu/Xhosa are the most widely spoken languages in the country). Thanks to a history of British imperialism, rebooted in globalization, and even though English is only the mother tongue of less than 10% of the South African population and depending on one’s educational level, the majority population speaks English to a greater or lesser degree, the CTZs in which Angus lives are Englishspeaking; hence there are no “barriers” or borders restricting him access, so to speak. In some South Africas, however, there are higher barriers to entry, thicker borders to cross, and thus more cultural friction. The CTZs which frontier migrants occupy are ones in which global English prevails, illustrative of its world-knitting dominance – which of course both “unifies” some sectors of the world population across national borders but also “disunites” local populations within national borders as they become stratified according to their ability to speak or not speak English fluently which in turn reflects and impacts their class position. In “local” or subnational CTZs, different indigenous languages and their various dialects mark people ethnically/nationally/racially, and attempts by the apartheid government to divide South Africans according to their native language further exacerbated this

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even though many South Africans are fluent in at least two, three, four, or more languages. One of Johannesburg’s most famous buildings is Ponte located in downtown Johannesburg. It is home to numerous African immigrants and diverse South Africans: “Ponte is Africa. You can find the whole of Africa in Ponte. In South Africa there are eleven tribes. . .All of them in Ponte you would find. Nigerians you would find, Congolese you would find, Zimbabweans, everything. Everybody is talking their language. Ponte, she’s just Africa” (Subotzky and Waterhouse 2014: 129). Ironically, although “global”/transnational/First World CTZs are described as cosmopolitan, they are much more monolingual. When Agatha, the BritishAmerican journalist, explained why she felt so welcome in Johannesburg’s CTZs in which global English is the dominant language, she said: “. . .I think there’s a lot of British accents around so. . .I don’t think people are that interested and bothered really [about me being a foreigner]. And Jo’burg is such a melting pot [read cosmopolitan] there’s people from everywhere here so it really doesn’t generate that much interest.” In other words, she did not stand out at all. She could blend in to the CTZs she occupied because she had the requisite cultural capital – global English and an accent that signified a middle-class/educated identity. Now, let’s compare Angus and Agatha’s experiences to a typical precarious migrant we shall call Tendai from Zimbabwe, a composite of several Zimbabwean migrants. When working-class Tendai moves to Jo’burg from Harare’s Highfields, the biggest township in Zimbabwe’s capital, she has to quickly learn isiZulu and SeSotho because she has to take public transport from her home in Alexandra township where she lives with black South Africans who have not received much education and therefore do not speak much English. They do not value the kind of Zimbabwean cultural capital she brings in the form of the Shona language which is only spoken in Zimbabwe and in parts of Mozambique (the Ndau dialect). When South Africans hear Shona, it reminds them of Venda which is the language of an ethnic group that is rather looked down upon (along with Shangaan and Tsonga speakers). When Tendai gets a job as a hairdresser in the “global” CTZ of Craighall Park, a well-off suburb, she quickly discovers that she will have to speak to some clients in English (which she already speaks well thanks to her excellent Zimbabwean education), but others will address her in Zulu or SeSotho or Afrikaans. If she arrives in South Africa speaking English and Shona very well – two forms of cultural capital – she will quickly acquire some ability to manage in three new languages in order to travel through the precarious and privileged CTZs she must navigate in her daily spatial practice. She must surmount several cultural and linguistic barriers to operate in South Africa. It is in subnational/“local” CTZs where we find true cosmopolitanism in the sense of radical multiculturalism and multilingualism (Myambo 2014). Angus and Agatha, on the contrary, like the frontier migrants in general, encountered far fewer “barriers” in the privileged, English-dominated CTZs they occupy. Their level of cultural comfort and more friction-free “blending in”/belonging goes beyond the English language though. These CTZs are inhabited by people culturally

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proximate – not just other frontier migrants but other middle-class migrants from other countries in Africa and beyond as well as the South African middle classes. The South African middle class is a multiracial although still predominantly white social class, but they have in common with frontier migrants something we might call an Anglo-American-dominated global culture (e.g., watching Game of Thrones), a transnational force that again provides a lubricant for frontier migrants to transition into some privileged South Africas with relatively less friction. When privileged frontier migrants enter these “global” CTZs, they confront a radically different South Africa than more subnational, “local” CTZs. They in fact confront a South Africa which is culturally proximate to their home countries. For African migrants from subnational CTZs in their home countries, this is often not the case.

“Cosmo”-local CTZs, “Coconuts,” and Global Culture Sharing a common class-based identity means that frontier migrants and middleclass black and white South Africans also share similar forms of global cultural capital which augments their feelings of cultural proximity. In Global Dreams: Class, Gender, and Public Space in Cosmopolitan Cairo, sociologist Anouk de Koning illustrates how “Egypt’s new liberal age, with its attempted integration into global networks and markets,” has led to “its striving for First World standards and appearances” (2009: 9). These words are certainly true of South Africa as well as plenty of other developing countries (Abaza 2001; Myambo 2017b). Egypt’s attempt at First Worldness means that Cairo is exploding with new global CTZs like Starbucks-style cafes where the Cairene middle and upper classes can sip their mocha lattes and eat their salted caramel cake while speaking in a mixture of Arabic and English performing their “conspicuous cosmopolitanism. . .[as] a potent marker of elite belonging and distinctiveness” (2009: 9). “Cosmopolitan” is here used to mean Western as it so often is, but in “global” CTZs which are depicted as cosmopolitan, it is often knowledge of Western consumer culture which makes them so. To participate in global culture therefore demands a familiarity with Euro-British (media) culture but especially American media culture, and this is a common trend prevalent from Beijing to Paris, Calcutta to Sao Paulo, and Cairo to Cape Town. It is not that other “elsewheres” do not also figure in the global imaginary. There are indeed other places that do so, but one of the most pernicious homogenizing effects of Anglo-American imperialism is how Anglo-American linguistic, technological, and cultural semiotics come to dominate what I call First World or global cultural capital and de Koning calls “cosmopolitan capital.” Her description aptly describes the essential characteristics of the type of cultural capital needed to navigate global CTZs and which frontier migrants along with the South African middle classes possess: I use the term ‘cosmopolitan capital’ for those forms of cultural capital that are marked by familiarity with and mastery of globally dominant cultural codes. . .Such cosmopolitan

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capital most clearly entails fluency in English. . .It also entails knowledge of the West, Western consumer culture, and prevailing elite dress codes that reference global fashions. Such cosmopolitan capital has come to designate social and cultural worth. . .it is a crucial marker of. . .up-market offices, as well as upscale consumption and leisure venues like malls, cinemas and coffee shops. (2009: 9)

Thus, to return us to our spatial analysis, “global” CTZs like the café, cinema, and mall are spaces easily frequented by both the “local” middle classes and frontier migrants because they require similar types of cultural capital. Global cultural capital is an ever more valuable commodity which can be translated into an increasing number of CTZs in global(izing) cities across the world (Davis and Monk 2007; Heiman et al. 2012). And global English is central to these CTZs. Although the Egyptian middle and upper classes mix Arabic and English, the Indian middle classes may switch between Hindi and English, and the black South African middle classes might choose to speak Zulu and English, the point is that privileged frontier migrants – even those from Europe who speak English as a second or third language – arrive in the global South with one of the most coveted forms of global cultural capital, the English language, and they already represent/ symbolize/enact global culture itself. When they meet their counterparts in the global South, some adjustments are necessary, but they are still conscious of a universal global culture that affords them cultural proximity. Geraldine, an African American frontier heritage migrant (Myambo 2017a) from Chicago, told me that at home in the USA, “we speak slang all the time. Here [in South Africa], I have to speak Standard English because otherwise people don’t know what you’re talking about. [But] there is kind of a universal culture and popular culture and much of it comes out of the U.S.” Thus, beyond language, frontier migrants arrive in their new countries in the “developing” world – developing toward becoming like Euro-America – already equipped with most of the cultural capital they will need to navigate the globalizing cities’ elite/middle-class/transnational/First World/“global” CTZs populated by “locals” who are “cosmopolitan” in the sense of being familiar with Western culture and languages. It is not that they do not encounter friction, but they certainly encounter far less friction in these transnational CTZs than working-class migrants who leave one subnational CTZ in their home country for a subnational CTZ in a new country. Another prominent factor which influences frontier migrants’ feeling of “athomeness” in transnational CTZs is the fact that the multiracial middle-class South African population is well-travelled and/or aspires to go to First World countries. Matt describes it succinctly: One of the things to me that I find really fascinating about South Africa, I talk about the people. Most people who have the means here have traveled extensively. I find that Americans are much more insular or much more naïve in a sense, because people will travel within the States, but people will generally not travel overseas. Whereas I found that South Africans travel. A lot of people have intimate knowledge of what life is like elsehwere, which I think there’s a constant influx of ideas. (Matt, white American architect, 30s)

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Even if they have not taken “gap years” to travel the world in between secondary school and university or if they have never lived in Australia or the UK as many (especially white) South Africans have done (Andrucki 2010), those who have not physically travelled are media-savvy and draw on the same global popular culture as people in the First World. I remember vividly a conversation I was privy to as I waited in a queue with the incoming first year students at UCT (University of Cape Town). A Tsonga girl from Soweto, Johannesburg’s largest township, became acquainted with a girl from Northwest province, and since they both had satellite TV, they both literally “kept up” with the Kardashians. Trading stories about bad American reality TV shows formed the majority of their two-hour-long conversation. Neither of these two students would probably describe themselves as “coconuts,” but it was a word I heard constantly used at UCT by middle-class black students who would begin their assertions by self-identifying as a coconut – someone who is brown on the outside but white on the inside. Also known as “Cheese boys” or “Bishops” meaning they eat cheese which is associated with white people or went to the predominantly white private school, Bishops, not far from UCT, or alternatively as “Top Decks,” a milk chocolate bar topped with white chocolate, these terms mostly refer to a certain accent while speaking English, a language in which they are extremely fluent and far more so than their working-class compatriots. Speaking English fluently and/or with a private school or “white” accent also distinctively marks them as middle- or upper-middle-class. Teboho Banele Moleko, one of my undergraduate students at UCT who participated in the sociology class I taught on xenophobia and immigration in South Africa, described himself in these terms but explains crucially that black kids like himself who grew up going to multiracial although white-dominated “Model C” (good/ private) schools are used to interacting with people of several nationalities whether Tanzanian or French. Race and nationality for these middle-class kids are not what defines their psyche. Instead, they feel quite culturally distant from other black South Africans of a lower socioeconomic class and feel culturally closer to others from the same class background regardless of their race/ethnicity/nationality. Upper- and middle-class blacks whom Moleko interviewed for his research paper feel “marginalized and ostracized on both sides of the dominant racial make-up of South Africa, [black and white]”; hence “individuals [from] this social economic spectrum tend to be more tolerant” of all types of people (Moleko 2011). He writes that they are often resented by the majority black population “for their perceived privileged life” hence “‘cheese boys,’ ‘Bishops’ or ‘coconuts’. . .social interactions [are influenced most by] class rather than race, ethnicity or nationality. This leads individuals in this social economic grouping to interact with individuals of the same social class, regardless of race or nationality or ethnicity making them more tolerant” (Moleko 2011). His findings from interviews conducted with a group of young black men who all attended multiracial Model C schools in postapartheid South Africa concluded decisively that “individuals who are relatively privileged interact with one another regardless of race. It is also very common for individuals in this class to date across racial, ethnic and nationality lines; due to the common identity

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individuals perceive they have when they come from the same social economic realities” (Moleko 2011, my emphasis). In other words, a shared class identity between migrants and locals who occupy similar CTZs can be a unifying factor. The salience of a class position as an identity is important for understanding the experience of migrants. In her study of how urban identities are changing in postapartheid society, Anne Leildé illustrates that the multiracial South African middle class are becoming more bound by class ties than other types of bonds (e.g., racial/ethnic, etc.) and writes the following of their specific spatial choices: “. . .residential choice among middle class residents appears to be motivated by the socioeconomic status of the neighborhood. In these suburbs, class identities appear to be constructed around common interests and concerns such as property values, neighborhood tidiness and crime” (2008:123). Frontier migrants who move into such suburban neighborhoods oftentimes share these common interests, concerns, values, and understandings of space. It is not only the English language and shared global cultural capital which undergirds the “global” CTZs, however, that frontier migrants frequent. It is additionally the very language of architecture. Frontier migrants are familiar with globe-spanning Euro-American architectural languages which in turn bolster their privilege.

Frontier Migrants and Socio-spatial Privilege in the CTZs of the Globalizing City The radically gentrifying urban landscape of globalizing cities in the global South (Lees 2012; Myambo 2019) further facilitates frontier migration because frontier migrants can mostly live and work in CTZs that are culturally similar to the ones they left behind in their industrialized home countries, e.g., the USA (see also Fechter and Walsh 2010). The growth of malls, suburbanization, and gated communities worldwide and the “homogenizing global cultural landscape” (Swyngedouw and Kaïka 2003: 6) provide frontier migrants in diverse countries with the option to live very “First World” lives. American Architect Matt said that his sense of familiarity upon arriving in Jo’burg arose, “not just [from] the layout of the city but the interconnection between things. For me, the urban fabric of Jo’burg is very American and I think that it is largely about the age of those countries in a sense. I think that because Jo’burg and very much of the States are relatively new, they were able to be designed around the automobile.” Even if the home country in Euro-America is spatially distant, it is culturally proximate because one of the most visible, materially tangible processes of globalization is the increasing territorialization of the “First World” burrowing its way into the urbanscape, e.g., McDonald’s, Starbucks, Krispy Kreme, Kentucky Fried Chicken, and other American chains continue to spread around the world. To fully decipher the nature of (socio-spatial) privilege as a lubricant that reduces the friction of migration for middle-class frontier migrants as they travel between transnational, “First World” CTZs in different countries, comparison offers us the most insight.

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Working-class migrants, for example, who travel from distinctly subnational CTZs in one country to subnational CTZs in another country cross more (cultural) borders, and less permeable borders at that, than privileged migrants as we saw in the case of Tendai, the Zimbabwean hairdresser. There is a global architecture of privilege which undergirds cultural globalization, structurally enabling some forms of mobility while making others more difficult which we shall explore more in the next and final section.

Traversing the City: Migrant Experience Contrasted Privilege and precarity impact middle-class migrants and working-class migrants not only in their different habitats but also in their daily spatial practice navigating the city’s myriad CTZs. Again, at the most practical level, this comes down to how they get around the city. As middle-class Kenyan migrant Caroline Wanjiku Kihato notes, driving a “private vehicle,” a mobile CTZ, made her “less vulnerable” than workingclass migrants taking overcrowded public transport who can become sitting ducks for ill-meaning xenophobes (Kihato 2013: 37). Sibongile, an Ndebele-speaking migrant from Zimbabwe, told me she was tense every time the police stopped the combi she was riding in because even though Ndebele is relatively close to Zulu, she was afraid they would hear her slightly different accent/intonation and identify her as a foreigner and harass her. Just getting around the city can be a harrowing experience for many foreign African nationals, whereas the true power of First World cultural capital and privilege becomes apparent in the literal and metaphorical ways it facilitates the movement of frontier migrants through the city. Matt, the American architect, is made to feel incredibly welcome in Jo’burg, often encountering sycophantic levels of xenophilia because he is American, and his valorized cultural capital of Americanness (his nationality, his accent) eases his path through the city: “Being a New Yorker. . .I certainly think that it opens doors for me. Yes. I can definitely see that my . . . Not my race [being white, but] my class, my nationality, my accent, all of those things work in my favor.” Matt is clear here that he does not attribute the special treatment he receives to his whiteness. I asked him if he believed there was any “white privilege” at work and he said, no, he had not witnessed any white South Africans receiving the same type of friendliness he commonly encountered. Although white privilege is structurally inherent in South Africa society, what he experienced went beyond typical white privilege. The xenophilia he experiences literally and metaphorically opens doors for him, and he went on to provide an example of how this xenophilia manifests itself in his dayto-day life navigating Johannesburg’s myriad CTZs: I have been pulled over before. The [metro police] don’t even ask to see my license. I’ve been pulled over, they hear my accent, they say, “Where are you from?” I tell them where I’m from [New York], they say, “What are you doing here?,” asking me the, “Why are you here?” question. I go on a rave about how I love South Africa, that it’s the greatest country in the world, whatever, and they will send me on my way. They don’t even check my registration. (Matt, white American architect, 30s)

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This example is profoundly illuminating on many levels. Firstly, the metro police are commonly believed to be extremely corrupt and ever in search of “cool drinks” (small bribes). Secondly, African working-class immigrants try to avoid interactions with the police if they can at all help it because, as Sibongile dreads, the police will often harass them for bribes or threaten them with deportation. Kihato’s research on working-class African women migrants in Johannesburg reveals their deep-seated fear of the state and subsequent avoidance tactics: [African working-class migrant] women use multiple strategies to avoid state capture on Johannesburg’s streets. Fazila, from the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), described her experience at a police roadblock in the city. “I do not like going down that street, Joe Slovo. . .because under the bridge there are always police there. . .I rather take another route through Yeoville. It is very long, but it’s better than meeting the police.” (Kihato 2013: 36)

The police are not friends but enemies, not helpful but harmful for working-class migrants. Even Kihato herself, a middle-class Kenyan, feared that same roadblock on Joe Slovo although she was in South Africa legally but she writes, “an encounter with the police was unpredictable – there was always the threat of incarceration and violence” (Kihato 2013: 37). Yet privileged frontier migrants often had the opposite experience with the police. There is a clear double standard at work. When I asked Agatha, a white British-American journalist, if she had “ever experienced racism or xenophobia,” she replied in the negative. Like Matt, she gave me a telling example to illustrate the depth of special xenophilic treatment she receives: I find [it] ironic [that I’ve never experienced xenophobia here] because it’s like when you get stopped at a roadblock or something, and I still have my American driver’s license because it’s such a nightmare to get a South African license. So, you would think after all these years that at some point, I would’ve had a problem but I never have. And they’re always like, “Oh, you’re from America,” you know? It’s like they’re almost impressed by it which is a bit sad when you think about their response to people from their own continent who come here, and they see them. . . Maybe they see them as more direct competition for resources but, no, I’ve never had a problem. (Agatha, white British-American journalist, 30s (my emphasis))

Like Matt, Agatha was allowed off scot-free and did not experience any harassment or negative interactions with the police because as we saw before, she is seen as culturally and literally distant from the resource struggle, and they are “impressed” with her American cultural capital. For many of the frontier migrants, guilt, befuddlement, and embarrassment characterize their descriptions of their preferential treatment vis-a-vis that of working-class African foreign nationals. Encounters with bureaucrats, immigration officials, and state authorities in many countries can be influenced by a concatenation of factors: race, class, gender, nationality, ethnicity, weather, luck, etc., but generally speaking, there is great hostility toward working-class Africans and quite the opposite feeling toward foreigners from the global North. It is not only Matt and Agatha who find that the police and South Africans in general are “impressed” with their Americanness which helps them to navigate the postapartheid city cosseted in a cloak of privilege. First

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World cultural capital is such a potent force that even during the last years of apartheid, a black American man named Frank Wilderson could enter “whites only” establishments because his nationality trumped his race. Wilderson’s memoir, Incognegro: A Memoir of Exile and Apartheid, is full of encounters with everyday South Africans, black and white, who declare their love for Americans and thus make him an exception to the rules of racially segregated space (see 45–6, 49–51, 100, 122, etc.). When he first enters the country as an “honorary White,” the only way for him to get into the country, he can barely find a place to stay because “multiracial” hotels are rare. Navigating the city is also a challenge until he meets a white woman whom he needs to help him “get a taxi,” and she does so because as she says, “I love people from America” (Wilderson 2008: 37).

Conclusion: Xenophobia and Xenophilia as Dialectics Both xenophobia and xenophilia are in fact socio-spatial phenomena related to interand intranational uneven development, and it is out of this research that I developed the philosophy of CTZs. This chapter illustrates a practical application of the philosophy which explores the multiple South Africas in which such radically different migration experiences coexist in conjoined national spaces, both “global”/transnational and “local”/subnational. The spatialization of privilege and precarity in relationship to inter- and intranational uneven development means that crossing national borders entails less friction than crossing socioeconomic “barriers” which often manifest themselves in different (linguistic) zones, but the globalizing city is itself one which is increasingly unequal. It is not only South Africa which bears witness to increasing income inequality and the correlative of disjunctive although contiguous CTZs. Writing about the global(izing) city of Kuala Lumpur in Malaysia, Mari Fujita asserts that the “recent and rapid rise of the middle class is often coupled with crudely uneven development and a persistent language of walls and divisions that assist in class articulation” (Fujita 2013: 183). This is a global story, and globally, frontier migrants from industrialized and especially Western countries often enjoy special privilege. Working-class migrants often suffer the inverse. Overall, I have argued here that sociocultural class and class-related forms of cultural capital (in which the economic is inherent) are very important for understanding the nuances of the migrant experience in addition to national identity, skin color, language, race, etc. Migrants, like locals, live in CTZs in which their cultural capital either translates or does not, and when it does not, friction, sometimes deadly friction, can result.

References Abaza, Mona. 2001. Shopping malls, consumer culture and the reshaping of public space in Egypt. Theory, Culture and Society 18 (5): 97. Sage Publications. Accessed 7 Dec 2014. Andrucki, Max. 2010. The visa whiteness machine: Transnational motility in post-apartheid South Africa. Ethnicities 2010 (10): 358–370.

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Suddenly there he is, irrevocably marked by his body as the feared and despised other, the threat to ‘civilization’. . . Difference was now lived and felt more acutely than unity. Kruks, S. Retrieving Experience, p. 100

Contents The Other as a Threat . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The South African Public Imagination: 25 Years Post-Apartheid . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Promise of the Other . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

In this chapter, I outline what I believe to be the dominant picture of “the Other” underpinning the public imagination in South Africa today – the Other as not only different from the self but as also threatening and alien to the self. In order to provide this picture, I trace the history of the concept of the Other as it developed in the European continent in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, exploring how different spaces were opened up in which to think about the Other and the role of the Other in our lives, spaces that were then taken up by African(a) existentialist philosophers and feminist philosophers. An unfortunate by-product of this line of thinking, which is by no means necessary, as I aim to show, is that the public imagination in South Africa today is, I would argue, at least tacitly informed by an image of the Other as not only utterly removed and alien from

L. Kelland (*) Allan Gray Centre for Leadership Ethics, Department of Philosophy, Rhodes University, Grahamstown, South Africa e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_23

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the self but also as threatening to the self. The Other has become, for us, a problem, and this is apparent in the ways in which we approach and respond to one another, or fail to, as the case may be. I propose the need to consciously shift the ways in which we think about the Other from this dominant, if often tacit, image of the Other as a problem, to an image of the Other as necessary for our liberation from ideological shackles, necessary for psychological freedom. This is by no means a new line of thought, but the need to consciously shift our ways of thinking about the Other, and thereby, each other is, in South Africa at this time, urgent for both epistemic and ethical reasons. Keywords

The Other · South Africa · Public imagination · Difference · Threat · Promise

Others surround us in our daily lives; from the moment we are born, we rely on others and most of us hope that when we die we will be in the presence of others, that others will be there with us, and that we will have had a positive impact on their lives. However, the ways in which we think, and have thought, about particular others differ dramatically based on our relationship(s) with these others, our context, and our position(s) within that context. While we may indeed be surrounded by others, the (capital O) “Other” plays a particularly salient role in our lives. A great deal of philosophical work in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries presents us with a picture of the Other as not only different from the self but, very often, as positioned in polar opposition from, and therefore in some sense threatening or hostile to, the self. This picture is, I believe, pervasive in South Africa, in tacitly informing not only the ways in which we think about others in our lives, but also the ways in which we perceive, approach, and respond to others, or fail to as the case may be. While this picture is certainly not the only one that has been drawn of the other by philosophers over time, I believe that it has come to underpin the public imagination in contemporary South Africa (Throughout the remainder of the chapter, I will use “Other” when referring to the dominant image of the other as a threat.). In this chapter, I trace this dominant picture of the Other as it moves from nineteenth and twentieth century European thought down through Africa to South African existentialist philosophy during apartheid. Here, it finds significant purchase in the existential philosophy of Stephen Bantu Biko. Biko found explanatory force and resonance in this work and one of its fundamental premises – that of the Other as a threat. I then explore the pervasiveness of this idea of the Other as a threat in the South African public imagination today, suggesting that it stands in the way of significant social change. Finally, I gesture towards alternative ways of thinking about the Other and the relations between self and other, and advocate that for both epistemic and ethical reasons a conscious shift in thinking about the Other is urgently needed in South Africa. A shift from this dominant, if often tacit, image of the Other as a threat, to an image of the Other as necessary for our liberation from ideological shackles – necessary, that is, for our psychological freedom.

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The Other as a Threat I begin to trace what I believe to be the dominant, if only tacit, picture of the Other underpinning the public imagination in South Africa by looking to nineteenth century Germany, and in particular to the philosophy of G.W.F. Hegel and his “master-slave dialectic” or struggle for recognition. When we think about Hegel and recognition, we do not think about what Michael Monahan calls “pure recognition,” in which: [the self] is aware that it at once is, and is not, another consciousness, and equally that this other is for itself only when it supersedes itself as being for itself, and is for itself only in the being-for-self of the other. Each is for the other the middle term, through which each mediates itself with itself and unites with itself; and each is for itself, and for the other, an immediate being on its own account, which at the same time is such only through mediation. They recognize themselves as mutually recognizing one another (Hegel, G.W.F. Phenomenology of Spirit S. 184–185, p. 112 I will return briefly to Monahan’s reading of Hegel on pure recognition at the end of the chapter when I argue for a conscious shift in the ways we think about and perceive the Other in South Africa.)

Monahan’s reading of Hegel as offering an account of pure recognition runs contra to the dominant reading of Hegel found in the literature. Immediately following the above quote, Hegel goes on to describe “how the process of this pure Notion of recognition. . . appears to self-consciousness,” (Ibid, p. 112 [my emphasis]) and introduces the language that moves us from the description of this appearance to the famous master-slave dialectic. The passages devoted to the master-slave dialectic have had a significant influence on the politics of recognition and identity politics; and a substantial amount of scholarship is devoted to them. Most notably, for our purposes, these passages were taken up by Jean-Paul Sartre in Being and Nothingness (1943) and Anti-Semite and Jew (1944) and by Frantz Fanon in Black Skin, White Masks (1952), all of which played a role in informing Biko’s philosophical practice as he sought to understand and propose solutions to the “race problem” in South Africa. For these reasons, it is worth unpacking them further below. Engaging with Hegel as he moves through these passages is difficult conceptual work, which I will not do justice to here. Suffice it to say that he begins by telling us that the process of mutual recognition appears to self-consciousness as a life-and-death struggle with the other, moves on to describe responses to this apparent struggle, which distort this process, and ends with a description of the arguably necessary subjugation of others in the world (see Kojève, A. Introduction to the Reading of Hegel: Lectures on The Phenomenology of Spirit (first published 1947) for a defense of the necessity of this dialectic playing out). His description of this process as a life-and-death struggle immediately strikes an unfamiliar reader as unnecessarily strong and is followed by the equally extraordinary claims that: It is only through staking one’s life that freedom is won. . . The individual who has not risked his [sic] life may well be recognized as a person, but he has not attained to the truth of this recognition as an independent self-consciousness (Hegel, G. Phenomenology of Spirit S. 187, p. 114.)

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These claims, extraordinary as they may seem, must be understood in relation to the ambiguity that lies at the heart of Hegel’s account of the human condition; namely, as mutually constituted by two extremes – pure self-consciousness or transcendence, on the one hand, and “life” or immanence, on the other. During the process of mutual recognition, both subjects are meant to experience themselves as shifting between their two co-constitutive extremes, in relation to and mediated by the other, which Hegel describes as the middle term, and in so doing ought to arrive at a proper understanding of the fundamental ambiguity of their embodied human condition. As Hegel puts it: In this experience, self-consciousness learns that life is as essential to it as pure selfconsciousness. . . The dissolution of that simple unity is the result of the first experience [of the other]; through this there is posited a pure self-consciousness, and a consciousness which is not purely for itself but for another. . . in the form of thinghood. Both moments are essential (Ibid S. 189, p. 115.)

The subject must acknowledge the ambiguity of their human condition – as coconstituted by both transcendence and immanence, and this is only possible, Hegel claims, in a reciprocal process of mutual recognition. However, one or both of the subjects involved may interrupt or distort this process. Since to be “frozen” in immanence – in “thinghood” – is equivalent to “death” for self-consciousness, the process appears to self-consciousness as a life-and-death struggle, and the other appears fundamentally as a threat to (the freedom and certainty of) the self. The dialectic – or struggle – of master and slave is a reaction to the appearance of this threat in the other. Since the master-slave dialectic is the focus of so much of the scholarship on Hegel, I will not expand further on elucidating the exact nature of these forms of consciousness here (for more on this see, for example, Honneth, A. The Struggle for Recognition: The Moral Grammar of Social Conflicts (1949)). What is essential, for our purposes, is that the struggle emphasized by Hegel in the master-slave dialectic, and the idea of the other as a threat to (the freedom of) the self, gained significant purchase in the work of philosophers to come, and, I believe, has ultimately been formative in tacitly shaping much of the public imagination in relation to the Other in South Africa. In what immediately follows, I will trace the movement of this idea from Hegel to Sartre and Fanon, and ultimately to Biko and the contemporary South African imagination. Hegel’s philosophy was hugely influential in the development of French existential phenomenology (other German philosophers – Husserl and Heidegger – also have a significant influence on the French existential phenomenologists. However, for the purposes of this chapter, I am exploring the move of this single idea – the other as a threat to the self – through from Hegel to Biko as directly as possible), exemplified by the likes of Sartre (I have selected Sartre as exemplary of a trend at the time. Hegel’s influence is also clearly visible in other hugely influential work at this time, including, among others, Simone de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex (1949) and Maurice Merleau-Ponty’s The Phenomenology of Perception (1945)). For Sartre, the relations between subjects, and between subjects and objects, were of

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primary importance when looking to understand the constitution of meaning in experience. He took on board Hegel’s account of the necessarily embodied subject as mutually and ambiguously constituted by transcendence and immanence (also referred to as self-consciousness, being-for-itself, and freedom, on the one hand, and immanence, immediacy, being-in-itself, being-for-others and facticity, on the other), as well as his emphasis on the necessity of understanding and acknowledging the ambiguity of the human condition to both authenticity and freedom. However, more than this, he inherited from Hegel a focus on non-reciprocal relations between subjects and an emphasis on the threatening nature of relations with others, and especially the Other. For the Sartre of Being and Nothingness (1943), the other fundamentally presents itself in opposition to the self – the look of the other threatens to fix the self in immanence – clearly indicating a Hegelian influence. Early Sartre is infamously credited with saying that “hell is other people” and for believing that our relations with others are necessarily hostile, and this is echoed in many of his popular plays – including Nausea (1938) and No Exit (1944). In much of Being and Nothingness Sartre describes the other as significant in terms of revealing to me aspects of myself that I would not otherwise know. It is worth quoting him at length: in the midst of this world already provided with meaning I meet with a meaning which is mine and which I have not given to myself, which I discover that I ‘possess already’. . . It is at this moment. . . that there appear in the world—bourgeois and workers, French and Germans. . . the Other’s existence brings a factual limit to my freedom. This is because of the fact that by means of the upsurge of the Other there appear certain determinations which I am without having chosen them. . . All this I am for the Other with no hope of apprehending this meaning which I have outside and, still more important, with no hope of changing it. . . we are dealing with objective characteristics which define me in my being-for-others. . . here I suddenly encounter the total alienation of my person: I am something which I have not chosen to be (Sartre, J-P. Being and Nothingness, pp. 510–524 [my emphasis].)

The other, in virtue of their capacity to reveal to me aspects of myself, aspects that I have not chosen, is arguably recognized here as another ambiguously constituted human subject; one who is able to bestow meaning upon me. However, echoing the struggle inherent in Hegel’s master-slave dialectic, Sartre argues that in our encounter with this other subject we experience “the total alienation of the self” (Ibid) because of the meaning that the other gives to us, and that we now objectively embody for the other (and ourselves). This alienation threatens to lead us into the always unstable state of bad faith. We find ourselves tempted to either overemphasize our transcendence at the expense of our immanence and, thereby, escape the gaze of the other and the meaning they give to us, despite the impossibility of doing so. Alternatively, we are tempted to overemphasize our immanence at the expense of our transcendence in an attempt to escape the anxiety of nevertheless remaining free and responsible for ourselves and what we will become. Hegel’s account of the human condition as never static – the self is not what it is, and not yet what it will be – is echoed here in Sartre’s formulation of bad faith. At an abstract theoretical level, the other is a problem precisely because they are also a

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transcendent subject, and in virtue of this are free to fix, or at least temporarily position, the self in immanence; thereby alienating the self from itself. In Anti-Semite and Jew (1944), Sartre’s account of the relations between self and other, as well as the flight into bad faith that can follow from the experience of the threat posed by the other, and the alienation felt by the self in relation to the meaning he now objectively embodies but has not chosen, finds concrete expression, which somewhat shifts his analysis. In Anti-Semite and Jew, Sartre describes the AntiSemite as living in bad faith because of his fear of the human condition and, ultimately, his freedom and responsibility. This fear leads to his failure to acknowledge the fundamental ambiguity of both the Jew’s human condition and his own. Interestingly, for Sartre, out of this fear, the Anti-Semite fixes both himself and the Jew in immanence – providing to each an essential nature that Sartre describes along Manichean lines; the Jew is positioned as essentially evil so that, in direct contrast, the Anti-Semite can position himself as essentially good (for an excellent account of the Anti-Semite’s flight into bad faith through the overemphasis of both his own and the Jew’s immanence see Tom Martin’s Oppression and the Human Condition). In espousing anti-Semitism, he does not simply adopt an opinion, he chooses himself as a person. He chooses the permanence and impenetrability of stone, the total irresponsibility of the warrior. . . He chooses finally a Good that is fixed once and for all, beyond question, out of reach. . . The Jew only serves him as a pretext; elsewhere his counterpart will make use of the [black man] or the man of yellow skin. . . (Sartre, J.P. (1944) Anti-Semite and Jew, p. 32.)

Hegel’s influence on Sartre’s philosophy is apparent – not only is the Other polarized from the self – utterly different and removed – the Other is also a direct threat – “Between these two principles no reconciliation is conceivable; one of them must triumph and the other be annihilated” (Ibid, p. 29). Eight years after Sartre published Anti-Semite and Jew, Frantz Fanon published Black Skin, White Masks (1952). Fanon’s focus is what he calls “the Negro problem,” once again echoing the fundamental idea of the Other as a problem and a threat. In perhaps the most famous (and most often taught) chapter from Black Skin, White Masks, entitled “The Fact of Blackness,” Fanon describes his experience in France of a young white French boy fixing him in his blackness with his gaze and giving to him, all at once, a meaning and a “history” that he had not chosen for himself. In a similar move to Sartre, he describes his alienation from himself, and from his body, which he claims over-determines him from without, in a visceral manner: I discovered my blackness, my ethnic characteristics; and I was battered down by tom-toms, cannibalism, intellectual deficiency, fetishism, racial defects, slave-ships. . . On that day, completely dislocated, unable to be abroad with the other, the white man, who unmercifully imprisoned me, I took myself far off from my own presence, far indeed, and made myself an object (Fanon, F. Black Skin, White Masks, p. 112.)

For Fanon, internalized intimations of inferiority, projected onto his body by the white gaze that positions blackness as “Other,” are the source of the alienation and double consciousness of black people (here Fanon echoes W.E.B. du Bois’ formulation of double consciousness, in which the black person “ever experiences their

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two-ness. . . two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder” (The Souls of Black Folk 1903)). Fanon describes black people who have been exposed in this way to whiteness as divided within themselves between how they experience themselves and the ways in which they are seen and positioned in society as the essentially polarized and inferior Other. Again, in this account, blackness is set up in opposition to whiteness and is derogated to inferior status in relation to whiteness. In claiming to be “overdetermined from without. . . the slave not of the ‘idea’ that others have of me but of my own appearance” (Fanon, F. (1967) Black Skin, White Masks, p. 116), Fanon draws directly on Sartre’s version of the Hegelian dialectic. The influence of Sartre on Fanon is examined extensively by Sonia Kruks, who argues that: Fanon’s account of the racialization of otherness involves a creative appropriation not only of the Neo-Hegelian account of “being-for-others” Sartre developed in Being and Nothingness but also of Sartre’s somewhat later and significantly different analysis of the dynamics of non-recognition in Anti-Semite and Jew. . . Sartre’s account of the dialectics of recognition deepens and brilliantly mutates in Fanon’s hands as it is extended to issues of racial identity. . . but what Fanon also brings to his topic is something that Sartre did not have: first-hand experience” (Kruks, S. (2001) Retrieving Experience, pp. 90–98.)

It was Sartre’s lack of first-hand experience that allowed him to see, and describe, Fanon’s “negritude” movement “as the minor term of a dialectical progression” (Sartre, J.P. (1948) Orphée Noir, preface to Senghor’s Anthologie de la nouvelle poésie nègre et malgache) as well as why in his approach to negritude “that born Hegelian had forgotten that consciousness has to lose itself in the night of the absolute, the only condition to attain to consciousness of self” (Fanon, F. Black Skin, White Masks, pp. 133–134). Both Sartre and Fanon, in their respective responses to their context and lived experiences, draw upon the Hegelian master-slave dialectic, and its fundamental premise that the other poses a threat to the self. However, in elucidating this, each turns to conditions of oppression – each describes concrete subjects in the world who are alienated from themselves and one another in virtue of their membership in some socially salient group. In each case, meaning is given to embodied subjects by the dominant other (or One) who positions members of the respective groups as inferior because of their “otherness” as a member of a group positioned as Other: The situation of the Jew in Sartre’s account is above all one constituted by the antiSemite–just as that of women can be said to be constituted by the sexist, or that of people of color by the racist. . . continually to be marked as the other and to live as such (Kruks, S. (2001) Retrieving Experience, p. 92.)

It is the move from being just any other – another ambiguously situated, transcendent subject – to being the Other – objectified and (over)determined from without – that I am drawing attention to here. Put differently, what is especially noteworthy is the move from alienation due to either the appearance of being fixed in thinghood (found in Hegel) or the projection onto my body of some meaning that I

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have not chosen (Sartre in Being and Nothingness), to alienation resulting from the projection onto my body of group-based intimations of inferiority that I have not chosen (found in Sartre’s Anti-Semite and Jew and Fanon’s Black Skin, White Masks as well as Simone de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex and Maurice Merleau-Ponty’s Phenomenology of Perception). The threat here is not merely that of being an other – another transcendence that poses a threat – but that of being the Other, alterity embodied. The Jew and the black man, each in their own way, comes to embody and signify the Other, and the now polarized and inferior Other poses a problem to the so-called universal norm or “One,” a question to be answered, a threat to be managed – Jews to the Anti-Semite, black to white. The difference as is often noted is that the Jew could perhaps escape notice, whereas the black person is immediately recognizable as such. Stephen Bantu Biko was one of the “fathers” of the Black Consciousness movement in South Africa during the 1970s (“It is a well-known but unspoken fact that in places like Bekkersdaal township in the North West province and Wallmer in the Eastern Cape lie the graves of dozens if not hundreds of BC [Black Consciousness] movement members who were killed because they dared to say “Biko is our father”” (Mngxitama et al. 2008, p. 7)). Biko was a hero of the antiapartheid struggle, who contributed to South Africa’s future not only politically but also philosophically (although he is typically considered a political figure, recent work has defended him as a philosopher – notably the recent (2008) publication Biko Lives: Contesting the Legacies of Steve Biko (Eds.) Andile Mngxitama, Amanda Alexander, and Nigel C. Gibson), and I would argue continues to exert a significant influence on the public imagination of a significant sector of South Africans today – notably in student movements across the country as well as in the work of academics across the humanities. He was killed in detention in 1977 precisely because the apartheid regime was so afraid of his influence. In a collection of his writings entitled I Write What I Like (first published in 1978, a year after his death), we see that Biko provided a powerful account of the psychosocial harm done to South Africans during the time of apartheid. His account evidences the impact of Hegel, Sartre, and Fanon on his work, which can be seen throughout I Write What I Like in his emphasis on the importance of non-reciprocal relations in setting up the situation of black people in apartheid South Africa. In particular, we see the influence of the central idea we have been tracing in this chapter from Hegel to Sartre and Fanon; namely, the idea of the Other as a threat to the self (and its group). Furthermore, we see an emphasis on the existential concept of alienation following from the dehumanizing experience of oneself as inferior Other and internalizing this meaning. In South Africa, during the time of apartheid, we find this dominant idea of the Other as a threat exemplified in the phrase “swart gevaar” (Afrikaans for “black danger.” Afrikaans is one of the now 11 official languages of South Africa, and at the time of apartheid was the language spoken by the Afrikaner Weerstandsbeweging (AWB), in English the Afrikaner Resistance Movement, which actively promoted white supremacy) and captured in Biko’s description of apartheid South Africa (Mabogo P. More has published numerous papers that also show Biko to be influenced by Sartre and Fanon. One can find, for

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example, an excellent reading of the centrality of authenticity and bad faith in the work of Biko in More’s “Biko: Africana Existentialist Philosopher”). Biko speaks about three groups of South Africans during apartheid – blacks, whites, and non-whites – where blacks are all those oppressed and positioned as inferior Other by the apartheid regime based on the color of their skin, and who have taken the first step towards liberation by self-identifying with the Black Consciousness movement as black – including those legally classified as Black, Colored, or Indian – and non-whites refer to black people who, Biko claims, aspire to whiteness. Members of all of these groups, he argues, have internalized white supremacist racism, such that whiteness was typically believed by members of all of these groups to be superior and aligned with the good, and blackness, as a deviation from, or Other to, whiteness, inferior and aligned with the bad. Both oppressed and oppressor in Biko’s picture are ethically and epistemically damaged – both as individuals and as groups – because of the ideological baggage of their respective social positions as raced bodies and the meaning that white racism gives to these bodies, resulting in superiority complexes in whites and inferiority complexes in blacks (and non-whites). No group in Biko’s picture is psychologically free, that is, from the structural and ideological conditions of the time; although, of course, these structural conditions privilege(d) white people and oppress(ed) black people, and so significant differences between these positions exist(ed) in terms of political and economic freedom (I have placed the past tense in brackets because I believe that these structural conditions largely persist). White racism had become so normalized and structurally embedded over the course of apartheid that both black and white people, at the time, had come, he argues, to believe in the inferiorized Otherness of black people. In describing the white population, Biko writes: In South Africa, after generations of exploitation, white people on the whole have come to believe in the inferiority of the black man. . . White people now despise black people, not because they need to reinforce their attitude and so justify their position of privilege but simply because they actually believe that black is inferior and bad. This is the basis upon which whites are working in South Africa, and it is what makes South African society racist (Ibid, p. 88 (my emphasis)).

In addition, describing the black population: To a large extent the evil-doers have succeeded in producing at the output end of their machine a kind of black man who is man only in form. This is the extent to which the process of dehumanisation has advanced. . . Reduced to an obliging shell, he looks with awe at the white power structure and accepts what he regards as the “inevitable position” (Biko, S. (1978) I Write What I Like, p. 28).

While Biko describes the harm done to all groups living in apartheid South Africa, his audience in I Write What I Like is, of course, the black (and non-white) population(s); his interest, like Fanon’s, is the situation of “being-black-in-an-antiblack-world” where black people are positioned as the Other, and importantly as a threat or problem to the dominant white population (see Mabogo P. More and Lewis Gordon’s contributions to Biko Lives for this phrasing). The black person comes to

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see their inferior position as inevitable because they have internalized the dehumanizing meanings attached to blackness – that positions the black body as “die swart gevaar” – by a normalized and structurally and institutionally embedded white racism in South Africa. In the style of Sartre and Fanon, Biko vividly describes the alienation that follows from this internalized inferiority complex, and the resentment felt by the black person qua black living under unjust apartheid rule. Following Fanon, in particular, he describes the double consciousness, or in his words “two-faced attitude” (Biko, S. I Write What I Like, p. 102) of black people in apartheid South Africa: In the privacy of his toilet his face twists in silent condemnation of white society but brightens up in sheepish obedience as he comes out hurrying in response to his master’s impatient call. . . All in all the black man has become a shell, a shadow of man, completely defeated, drowning in his own misery, a slave, an ox bearing the yoke of oppression with sheepish timidity (Ibid, pp. 28–29).

It is because of the pervasiveness of this psychosocial harm that Biko saw it as essential that black people in apartheid South Africa be conscientized – essential, that is, if South Africans hoped to both solve the “race problem” in South Africa and continue to live here together. In particular, he argued that black people in South Africa needed to become aware of the “lie that black is an aberration from the ‘normal’ which is white” (Ibid, p. 49. This awareness, I would argue, is essential in all conscientization efforts across racial divides) as well as the impact of this lie on their ways of perceiving and being in the world. Developing this awareness on the part of black people was the central aim of the Black Consciousness Movement in the 1960s–1970s (and early 1980s). As Biko wrote: At the heart of this kind of thinking is the realisation by blacks that the most potent weapon in the hands of the oppressor is the mind of the oppressed. If one is free at heart, no manmade chains can bind one to servitude, but if one’s mind is so manipulated and controlled by the oppressor as to make the oppressed believe that he is a liability to the white man, then there will be nothing the oppressed can do to scare his powerful masters (Ibid, p. 92).

It is precisely because of the internalization of superiority and inferiority complexes on the part of whites, blacks, and non-whites, respectively, themselves the product of hegemonic Othering, that Biko defends what he calls the token segregation of the races in South Africa (against what he calls the bilateral approach of the white liberal) until such a time as true integration becomes possible. True integration, he argues, can only, and will naturally, be achieved once black people have been conscientized and their “ideological shackles” thrown off, and this work, he argues, cannot be done in collaboration with white people, precisely because any effort to integrate the two “extremes” while superiority and inferiority complexes remain in place will inevitably be undermined by these very complexes. It is worth quoting Biko himself:

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It never occurred to the liberals that the integration they insisted upon as an effective way of opposing apartheid was impossible to achieve in South Africa. It had to be artificial because it was being foisted on two parties whose entire upbringing had been to support the lie that one race was superior and others inferior. One has to overhaul the whole system in South Africa before hoping to get black and white walking hand in hand to oppose a common enemy. As it is, both black and white walk into a hastily organised integrated circle carrying with them the seeds of destruction of that circle—their inferiority and superiority complexes. The myth of integration as propounded under the banner of the liberal ideology must be cracked and killed because it makes people believe that something is being done when in reality the artificially integrated circles are a soporific to the blacks while salving the consciences of the guilt-stricken white (Ibid, pp. 64–65).

Biko’s response to the white liberal’s proposal is in fact one of the many places that we clearly see the influence of nineteenth and twentieth-century European philosophy – particularly that of Hegel and Sartre – on Biko’s thought. Again, a lengthy quote from Biko is justified. The thesis, the anti-thesis and the synthesis have been mentioned by some great philosophers as the cardinal points around which any social revolution revolves. For the liberals, the thesis is apartheid, the antithesis is non-racialism, but the synthesis is very feebly defined. They want to tell the blacks that they see integration as the ideal solution. Black Consciousness defines the situation differently. The thesis is in fact a strong white racism and therefore, the antithesis to this must, ipso facto, be a strong solidarity amongst the blacks on whom this white racism seeks to prey. Out of these two situations we can therefore hope to reach some kind of balance—a true humanity where power politics will have no place. This analysis spells out the difference between the old and new approaches. The failure of the liberals is in the fact that their antithesis is already a watered-down version of the truth whose close proximity to the thesis will nullify the purported balance (Ibid, p. 90 [my emphasis]).

Indicating a deep understanding of the Hegelian dialectic, part of Biko’s objection to the white liberal’s bilateral approach is that it fails to balance the dialectic, and positions “a watered-down version of the truth” – i.e., non-racialism – as the antithesis to apartheid, rather than its synthesis. Black Consciousness is a necessary step in this dialectic precisely because of the internalization of white racism on the part of all groups. For example, the inferiority complexes of black people in South Africa, which have resulted from the internalization of white racism from “the cradle to the grave” (More, M.P. “Biko: Africana Existentialist Philosopher,” p. 60), stand in the way of the liberation of black people, and thereby in the way of transforming the racist status quo of South Africa. The liberal approach (by thinking of the antithesis to white racism as non-racialism) fails to consider the impact of superiority and inferiority complexes and so, for Biko, ultimately proposes integration as assimilation – giving black people a chance to sit at the white people’s table (for an excellent discussion of both of these points, see More, M.P. ‘Biko: Africana Existentialist Philosopher’). In contrast, Biko argues that the synthesis of a genuine Hegelian dialectic aiming at real transformation must be a “pluralist integration” where both black and white are respected and self-determining as groups. Only at this time, he argues, would true integration be possible, and to arrive here black people, he argues, must first be conscientized through a process

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which brings to the consciousness of black people the task of taking charge of their destiny, of resolutely taking responsibility for who they are and the choices they make, of committing themselves to authentic possibilities, taking over their freedom, uniqueness, and resolutely engaging in the projects through which they create themselves. Black Consciousness thus becomes the quest (vehicle) for authenticity (More, M.P. ‘Biko: Africana Existentialist Philosopher’, p. 62).

Biko did not live to see the end of apartheid, and the token segregation he believed was necessary for the true integration of the races to be possible never happened; neither did the conscientization he passionately argued for.

The South African Public Imagination: 25 Years Post-Apartheid The idea of the Other as a threat to the self, and to the development of selfdetermination, was of primary importance to Biko’s thinking about and theorizing the Other and continues to at least tacitly underpin the public imagination in relation to the Other in South Africa today. One does not need to look far for (not-so-tacit) evidence of this picture of the Other in the public imagination. Easily available evidence is found if one simply types “swart gevaar” into Google: “The DA playing up ‘swart gevaar’ is the legacy of Tony Leon” (https://citizen.co.za/opinion/opinioncolumns/1861363/the-da-playing-up-swart-gevaar-is-the-legacy-of-tony-leon/), “The swart gevaar is back” (https://www.dailyvoice.co.za/opinion/current-affairs/muniergrootbek/the-swart-gevaar-is-back-13858486), “What Black Monday Taught Us: ‘Swart Gevaar’ Is Alive And Well” (https://www.huffingtonpost.co.za/ashantikunene/the-black-monday-protest-has-elicited-polarised-opinion_a_23261687/), “Swart Gevaar Redux: The anatomy of fear and violence” (https://www.dailymaverick. co.za/opinionista/2016-02-25-swart-gevaar-redux-the-anatomy-of-fear-and-violence/#. Wsy0Fehua00), “Politics of fear: Swart gevaar, rooi gevaar, boer gevaar” (https://mg. co.za/article/2013-11-13-politics-of-fear-swart-gevaar-rooi-gevaar-boer-gevaar), it goes on. If these newspaper headlines are anything to go by, South Africa is still characterized by fear of the Other – where Otherness remains drawn around primarily racial lines. As these headlines imply, South African politicians, in particular, are accused of playing on old racially based fears to sway the electorate – playing on the idea of the “swart gevaar” to white people, and the “boer gevaar” to black people (“Boer” translates directly into farmer, and in the South African context is used to refer loosely to white people (the distinction between white English South Africans, and white Afrikaans South Africans is not really maintained when this term is used but rather takes the mind back to the Apartheid regime in general). In each case, the prevalent idea of the differently raced Other as a threat is clear. But, politicians, and the media, one might object, are in the business of hyperbolizing the everyday to grab attention, votes, readership. . . Perhaps this all-too-easily-available evidence is cheap and does not really count as evidence of the public imagination. . . When students of mine speak to me about the recent student protests – Black Lives Matter, Rhodes Must Fall, Fees Must Fall, the RU Reference List – their

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experiences of the protests, their experiences within the student movements themselves, and the responses they received from university staff, their peers, their parents, and members of the broader community present overwhelming evidence of Othering (often along Manichean lines of good and evil) on all sides and within the movement itself. Protesters found themselves positioned as a “criminal threat” to the “ordinary functioning” of the universities where they were based, and were met with police brutality and institutional discipline across the country. Moreover, while the aims of these protests were often distinct – ranging from institutional culture, to fees, to rape culture – and the students participating in each movement differed too depending on their identification with the cause, the responses to the protests, and to the student protesters involved in each movement were overwhelmingly the same. In each case, genuine engagement was rare and disciplinary action swift – indicating an overwhelming urge to shut down anything perceived as threatening to the current status quo. More insidiously, in each case, the threat was typically perceived to be embodied in black students. I recall leaving the (ironically named) Steve Biko Student Union Building on Rhodes University campus one evening during the Reference List protests – an antirape student movement that took place in April 2016 – where protesting students were occupying the Student Representative Council offices. I had been called by the students to help them respond to police presence (and violence) inside the building. When I arrived, police still manned all exits from the building as well as the surrounding streets, and as I left, I earnestly asked the students to “stay safe.” The group of students to whom I had spoken what I intended as kind words looked back at me, and one of them said, “It is only because you are white that you think that is possible.” I cannot describe exactly how I felt at that moment looking back at those young women (I want to say shame, but perhaps that doesn’t quite capture it); but I instantly realized that in the eyes of the police their black bodies positioned them as threatening in a way that my whiteness didn’t. I recalled this again, all the more viscerally, the following day when a colonel in the local police force put his arm around me upon seeing me on campus and said “how are you my girl?” I was his girl, but they were not; they represented the Other. They were a (black) threat, and I a passive (white) woman; they were to be shot at, I was to be hugged (the intersections of race and gender in South Africa still call out for thorough investigation). I recalled it again, when asked, as one of many white bodies present on a particular day, to form a “human shield” in front of black student protesters so that the police would not shoot at them with a water cannon. Later, sitting in a local pub I listened as people wholly outside of the “university community” commented on “these black students” – without understanding the nuances of gender, class, or sexual identity, they reduced the student protests, and the protesters themselves, from various movements over the course of 3 years, to race. Speaking to students within these movements reveals even further dimensions of Othering along intersecting lines. Students who identify as queer, transgender, and gender non-conforming speak of feeling like they had to leave their personal struggles with gender and sexuality at the door when they entered the Fees Must Fall movement (for example). They indicated that in some spaces they felt as though

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their racial identity was all that was meant to matter. They speak of feeling silenced within the movement, and often marginalized. Black women within these movements also speak about the patriarchal nature of the movements, and about the implicit and explicit ways in which heteronormative and patriarchal ways of being played out in these spaces – sometimes amounting to sexual violence. Protests are emotionally heightened spaces, so we might expect temperatures to be running high and this could explain the prevalent Othering seen, experienced, and described during these times. However, this tendency to Other does not only emerge at these times and in these spaces. I am involved in teaching an ethics course at Rhodes University, called IiNtetho zoBomi: Conversations about Life (“IiNtetho zoBomi” means conversations about life in isiXhosa (the language spoken by the Xhosa people, an ethnic group in South Africa) and is an ethics course designed and run by the Allan Gray Centre for Leadership Ethics (Philosophy Department) in South Africa. The students who tutor the course have come through zoBomi and are jointly responsible, with the academic staff of the centre, for co-creating the curriculum and facilitating the course for incoming students). This course aims to show students the centrality of ethics to their own lives, and to allow them the opportunity to become aware of their values as well as the various forces (for example, ideological, cognitive, behavioral, and structural) that can get in the way of them acting according to the values they reflectively endorse. Drawing on feminist and critical race theories emphasis on consciousness-raising dialogue, the course centers on conversation – on bringing students together in small groups where they can engage in the kind of dialogue that fosters understanding of themselves, those around them, and the context within which they live. The conversations bring students to reflect on their own lived experiences, and so often turn to questions and lived experiences of race, gender, sexual identity, ethnicity, and class, and typically reveal the foundational role that Othering has played, and continues to play, in the ways in which students talk about and experience their worlds, as well as the ways in which they respond to one another when doing so. Countless memories spring to mind, but I will relay only one, for the sake of brevity. We were exploring the concept of double consciousness in the South African context and were busy thinking about a question raised in the lecture earlier that day – “can white people experience double consciousness?” This, of course, is an emotive and complicated question, and the student tutors went back and forth finally settling on the claim that the only way in which one can answer in the affirmative is to think along intersectional lines – no, white people cannot experience double consciousness qua white, but perhaps they can in relation to their sexuality, gender, class. . . At this point, the conversation became interestingly heated, and I watched as two young black women – alike, by their own lights, in all respects but class (and not very far removed from one another in terms of class either) – failed to see each other. Both women described experiencing double consciousness, but one of them did not want to acknowledge the other’s experience. The differences between them disqualified one of them, in the eyes of the other, at that moment, from being able to experience double consciousness. These two, highly intelligent, highly empathic, students found themselves temporarily pitted against one another – in something

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akin to a possessiveness over pain. I found myself asking myself how this was possible – particularly between these two students – two young black women – surely, I thought, they must be able to see one another? Surely, they must be able to understand where one another are coming from. These questions themselves betray the dominant picture of the Other underlying the public imagination in my own thought – alike in their blackness, as opposed to my whiteness, I expected them to be able to see each other clearly. The irony. . . At the beginning of last year, I attended a conference on “Justice and the Other” hosted by the Centre for Phenomenology in South Africa, where Mogobe B. Ramose, a (South) African philosopher, delivered a keynote address. In his address he referenced the meaning of the isiZulu (the Zulu people are the largest ethnic group in South Africa and speak isiZulu) greeting, “Sawubona.” Where most South Africans will now be able to recognize this greeting as “hello,” its original meaning, I came to learn, is “I see you.” This simple, and yet profoundly beautiful, statement – I see you – immediately struck me, then and now, as something lacking in our time, the ability to really see one another, as (an)other and not the Other. Thinking about the experiences above, and countless others, reveals to me the ethical and epistemic urgency of consciously shifting the ways in which we think about the Other in South Africa. Today, 42 years after Biko’s death, and 25 years since our first democratic elections (which signaled the end of apartheid in the public imagination), the South African public imagination remains (at least tacitly) informed by this dominant picture of the Other as a threat – a threat to the self, and, equally importantly, to the socially salient group to which one belongs. We live with the legacy of apartheid – social and economic (among other) injustices of the past still largely determine one’s standing and possibilities in this country. Despite protestation to the contrary, race continues to constitute the single most important factor in identifying others and ourselves in South Africa, followed by class, ethnicity, gender, and sexuality. Furthermore, South Africa is a country characterized by identity politics and the politics of recognition, where different groups often, if not typically, perceive and experience themselves as pitted against one another, as competing for scarce and unevenly distributed resources, among them recognition. Examining the situation critically, we can be forgiven for thinking that not much has changed, in the ways in which we view and treat each other, since the time that Biko wrote the work that constitutes I Write What I Like. In our so-called “Rainbow Nation,” the Other, typically the raced Other, remains a problem – an intransigent one – and is still considered a threat. Perhaps Biko would have said, “I told you so. . .” Indeed, as Mngxitama, Alexander, and Gibson note in their introduction to Biko Lives (2008): Biko’s concept of black liberation anticipates the post-apartheid reality of black poverty and exclusion alongside white wealth, legitimized by a black presence in government. It has often proven difficult to describe this phenomenon, especially since the 1994 “miracle” destabilized discourses and ways of seeing that were rooted in the black experience, such as BC. How do we name a social political formation that is managed by former liberation fighters, but remains in the service of the apartheid status quo? (Mngxitama et al., ‘Biko Lives’, p. 4).

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The Promise of the Other So what do we do? If we can agree (1) that the dominant picture of the Other underpinning the public imagination in South Africa is one of a threat to both the self and the socially salient group with which the self identifies at any given moment; (2) that this dominant idea stands in the way of genuine social change, and (3) that we want social change, then it seems as though we are committed to doing something (while I have not defended either of the latter claims, I feel it is safe to assume them). But what? If Biko inspires us, and we acknowledge our ongoing “race problem” in South Africa, then one might defend, as he did during Apartheid, token segregation and conscientization until such time as black and white are able to come together with mutual respect and self-determination. That is, without the inferiority and superiority complexes that black and white, respectively, have internalized because of ideologically and structurally embedded white racism in South Africa. Although Biko focuses on the situation of black people (for the reasons discussed above), he does suggest that: True [white] liberals should realise that the place for their fight for justice is within their white society. The liberals must realise that they themselves are oppressed if they are true liberals and therefore they must fight for their own freedom. . . The liberal must apply himself with absolute dedication to the idea of educating his white brothers that the history of the country may have to be rewritten at some stage and that we may live in “a country where colour will not serve to put a man in a box”. The blacks have heard enough of this. In other words, the liberal must serve as a lubricating material so that as we change the gears in trying to find a better direction for South Africa, there should be no grinding noises of metal against metal but a free and easy flowing movement which will be characteristic of a well-looked-after vehicle (Biko, S. I Write What I Like, pp. 25–26 [my emphasis]).

Biko understood that conscientization was required on both “sides” – for both oppressed and oppressor – black people to undermine their inferiority complex and white people to undermine our superiority complex. Both groups needed to become cognizant of the distortions inherent in white racism, such as that black is an aberration from the “normal” considered as white. For Biko, the conscientization of the white population was the responsibility of white liberals. Following Biko, one could maintain that conscientization is required on both “sides” for the mutual respect he envisaged, and the “easy flowing movement” he described towards true integration, to become a reality. As Biko put it: Once the various groups within a given community have asserted themselves to the point that mutual respect has to be shown then you have the ingredients for a true and meaningful integration. At the heart of true integration is the provision for each man, each group to rise and attain its style of existence without encroaching on or being thwarted by another. Out of this mutual respect for each other and complete freedom of self-determination there will obviously arise a genuine fusion of the life-styles of the various groups. This is true integration (Ibid, p. 22).

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While one might agree that conscientization is required for both oppressed and oppressor, one might still object to the token segregation Biko sees as necessary for conscientization to occur. Contra Biko, one might argue that conscientization of the requisite sort is still possible in groups containing differently raced people. I, for one, believe that it is. One could possibly also defend the claim that conscientization in integrated groups could be particularly helpful in uncovering the distortions inherent in white racism (among other ideologically and structurally embedded systems of oppression). Work by Marilyn Friedman, among others, could be drawn on in support of this claim. She says: For good psychological reasons, each person’s unaided thinking cannot be trusted to discern its own biases. One’s own thinking . . . is not fully transparent to oneself. Biases are recognisable, for example, in the particular moral problems which attract or which escape one’s attention, by the metaphors chosen to express oneself, and by one’s reactions to different sorts of persons. The beneficiaries, victims, observers, and so on, of one’s behaviour may be better situated than oneself to discern biases hidden behind one’s articulated moral attitudes, because they can comprehend those avowals contextually in the light of one’s related actions and practices (Marilyn Friedman ‘The Impracticality of Impartiality’. Intersectionality could itself be a reason to object to the idea of segregation in consciousnessraising work, and thereby to Biko’s defense of token segregation. However, perhaps to object along these lines is not to take seriously the (sometimes incremental, sometimes dramatic) changes that have taken place since apartheid. Despite the complexity of, and ongoing injustice in, South Africa, it is still indubitably a better South Africa than the one South Africans lived in during Apartheid.)

The claims Friedman makes above are not controversial; and taking her claims seriously in South Africa suggests that racially integrated groups could even be better at fostering the kind of spaces needed for conscientization to occur. There are two important lessons that we can learn from the transformation of feminist scholarship and activism over the decades. First, we can learn from the move from early second-wave feminism’s emphasis on sameness as a means of fostering solidarity among women, to an acknowledgement and critical attempt to understand difference as it plays out along intersecting lines. When black intersectional feminists and womanists in the USA (such as Audre Lorde, bell hooks, and Patricia Hill Collins (See Collins 2000; hooks 2000, 1990, 1989)) responded to the earlier feminist emphasis on sameness (which is exemplified in the work of Sandra Bartky (1976, 1979) among others), they did not seek to undermine “the vision of sisterhood” at the heart of the feminist movement. Rather, they sought to create spaces in which differently embodied women’s voices could be heard, and the differences in their lived experiences of patriarchy understood – notably, for our purposes, along the intersecting lines of race and gender. As Drucilla Cornell writes: We are reminded of a radical project of democratic representation that always remembers the metaphor of silencing as that which led us to create spaces in which new voices could articulate themselves and be taken seriously in the first place (Cornell, D. (2000) Las Grenudas).

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Shifting away from the concept of solidarity, given its connotations with this emphasis on sameness, recent discourse emphasizes the concept of coalition formed through an understanding of difference along a multitude of lines. As Cricket Keating claims: experience must be historically interpreted and theorized if it is to become the basis of feminist solidarity and struggle. . . the open-ended goal of coalitional consciousness-building would be a kaleidoscopic understanding of many different “wes” in relation to many different “thems” in order to not only find out who these collectives are but also create new possibilities for their existence, enactment, and expression (Keating, C. (2005) pp. 95–98).

Echoing this emphasis on giving voice to different lived experiences, feminist philosopher Sonia Kruks warns that we must not [seek] to suppress the particularities of concrete groups and individuals that are, for better or worse, integral to their existence. . . The demand to be recognized in one’s particularity or difference is, implicitly, a call for more universal forms of reciprocity and respect. For if one’s recognition by the other was not necessary for the integrity of the self, non-recognition per se would not present itself as an injury. . . we need to seek for non-exclusionary affirmations of difference and for forms of universalism that can accommodate particularity: no easy task. . . Groups that espouse particularistic identity politics must also actively seek areas of common ground with others (Kruks, S. (2001) Retrieving Experience, pp. 94–106 [my emphasis]. In Retrieving Experience, Kruks provides an excellent examination of standpoint theory and in particular what she calls the epistemology of provenance in mediations between self and other.)

Conscientization groups must make allowance for a plurality of intersecting identities; failing which the mutual respect for “each man, each group” [sic] that Biko envisaged will remain an ideal on the horizon. The words of Simone de Beauvoir (my all-time favorite feminist philosopher and existential phenomenologist) are also worth remembering here: The man to whom I do violence is not my peer, and I need men to be my peers. . . If I did violence to all men, I would be alone in the world, and lost. If I make a group of men into a herd of cattle, I reduce the human race accordingly. And even if I oppress only one man, all of humanity appears in him as a pure thing to me. If a man is an ant that can be unscrupulously crushed, all men taken together are but an anthill. . . In order to be recognised by them, I must first recognise them. Our freedoms support each other like stones in an arch, but in an arch that no pillars support. Humanity is entirely suspended in a void that it creates itself by its reflection on its plenitude (Beauvoir, S. ‘Pyrrhus and Cineas’, (1944) pp. 138–140).

The second lesson we can learn from feminism is the important role that conflict plays in coalitional conscientization. Conflict is common in conscientizing work, and even more common when attempting to build coalitional consciousness. Bernice Johnson Reagon captures this succinctly when she says: You don’t go into coalition because you just like it. The only reason you would consider trying to team up with somebody who could possibly kill you, is because that’s the only way you can figure you can stay alive (Reagon, B. J., (1983) ‘Coalition Politics: Turning the Century’).

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However, hooks (among other black feminists and womanists) claims that it was through “argumentative discussion” that groups “sought to clarify [their] collective understanding” and “[found] a realistic standpoint on gender exploitation and oppression” (hooks, b. (2000) Feminism is For Everybody: Passionate Politics, p. 8). Conflict, for hooks, did not undermine, but in fact facilitated, conscientization (indeed, as I have shown elsewhere, such conflict enables the development of alternative ways of perceiving and being in the world). If, in South Africa, we shift to an intersectional understanding of identity, rather than overemphasizing (and perhaps essentializing) race along the lines drawn by apartheid, then we could proceed with conscientization without needing racial segregation, even of the token kind Biko defends as a means to facilitate the pluralist end of true integration. However, integrated conscientization would require a conscious shift in the ways in which we (at least tacitly) perceive the Other as a threat. Creating spaces where all of our voices can genuinely be heard means that we must confront, come face to face with, the Other, and together actively and critically engage with our implicit beliefs about one another, as well as the values and meaning we associate with the Other along a multitude of lines. We must face the threat. We would be wise to hold onto Biko’s hope that the present does not determine what might be in the future. Indeed, echoing his existentialism, we could say that we are responsible for what our collective future becomes. I began this chapter with Hegel, and with the claim that his emphasis on the struggle inherent in the master-slave dialectic was taken up by French existential phenomenologists, including Jean-Paul Sartre, and African(a) existential philosophers Frantz Fanon and Steve Biko. It is only fitting when thinking about shifting our ways of perceiving the Other, then, that we return to the home of this idea, namely, Hegelian philosophy. Indeed, a return to Hegel is particularly fitting since: The demand for free recognition by the other that Hegel described has been fundamental to broad political and social struggles for at least two centuries. It has subtended demands for not only “the rights of man,” equality under the law, and adult white male suffrage but also the abolition of slavery, women’s suffrage, visions of socialism, and, more recently, the black civil right’s movement and wider demands for racial and gender equality. It also remains central to identity politics (Kruks, S. (2001) Retrieving Experience, p. 84).

Recall that Monahan, in what most would consider a controversial reading of Hegel, defends what he takes to be Hegel’s ideal of “pure recognition” as mutual recognition. Monahan’s reading of Hegel’s account of the “pure Notion of recognition” more closely resembles attentive relationships of friendship and love than it does those of struggle. The master-slave dialectic, rather than a necessary result of the process of recognition, represents for Monahan a corrupt form of recognition that serves as both a warning and a call to action. When the manifestations of recognition found in the institutions and practices of Ethical Life are corrupted, then the recognition I am able to manifest will more likely be corrupted, and vice-versa. The key to realizing human freedom, therefore, is not constant struggle or perpetual reiterations of the master/slave dialectic, but rather the formation of the kind of

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social world in which pure recognition is fostered as the norm of human interaction (Monahan, M. J. (2006) ‘Recognition Beyond Struggle’, pp. 405–406).

The master-slave dialectic “[reveals] the limitation and contradictions of corrupted recognition” and makes the “demand for total human freedom explicit” (Ibid, p. 414). While the injustice of contemporary societies, including South Africa, persists, the pure recognition that Hegel offers us, is only possible, for Monahan, in degrees; but in pursuit of freedom we must seek to foster a relation between agents and groups of agents that will be seeking ever greater manifestations of reciprocity through an ever-evolving relationship that demands the constant (often critical) attention and affirmation of both parties (Ibid, pp. 412–413).

Perhaps it is the ideal of pure recognition that inspires Sartre, Fanon, and Biko to each imagine an ideal end that, for the latter two, conscientization is a means toward. More describes Biko as “demanding human behaviour from the Other” in pursuit of this end, and Fanon in Black Skin, White Masks argues that: The only means of breaking this vicious circle that throws me back on myself is to restore to the other, through mediation and recognition, his human reality. . . The Negro is not. Any more than the white man. Both must turn their backs on the inhuman voices which were those of their respective ancestors in order that authentic communication be possible . . . Superiority? Inferiority? Why not the simple attempt to touch the other, to feel the other, to explain the other to myself? (Fanon, F. (1967) Black Skin, White Masks, pp. 217–231).

At this time, we need to consciously shift the ways in which we think about the Other in South Africa. Rather than think about the Other as a threat, we need to begin to conceive of the Other, and the relations between self and other, as necessary for our liberation from ideological shackles and for the transformation of the status quo in South Africa. The epistemic and ethical need for this shift is urgent.

References Bartky, S. 1976. Towards a phenomenology of feminist consciousness. Social Theory and Practice 3 (4). Bartky, S. 1979. On psychological oppression. In Philosophy and women, ed. Weinzweig and Hill. Wadsworth. Biko, S. 1978. I write what I like. London: Bowerden Press. Collins, P. Hill. 2000. Black feminist epistemology. In Black feminist thought: Knowledge, consciousness, and the politics of empowerment, ed. P.H. Collins, 2nd ed. New York/London: Routledge. Cornell, D. 2000. Las Greñudas: Recollections on consciousness-raising. Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society 25 (4): 1033. De Beauvoir, S. 1977. The second sex. Vintage. First published Le Deuxième Sex, 1949. De Beauvoir, S. Pyrrhus and Cineas. 1944. In Simone de Beauvoir: Philosophical writings, ed. M. A. Simons. University of Illinois Press. du Bois, W.E.B. 1903. The souls of Black folk. Chicago: A. C. McClurg & Co.

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Fanon, F. 1952. Black skin, white masks. Paris: Éditions du Seuil. Friedman, M. 1989. The impracticality of impartiality. The Journal of Philosophy 86 (11): 645. Gordon, L.R. 2008. A phenomenology of Biko’s Black Consciousness. In Biko lives: Contesting the legacies of Steve Biko, ed. A. Mngxitama, A. Alexander, and N.C. Gibson. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Hegel, G.W.F. 1977. Phenomenology of spirit. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Originally published: Phänomenologie des Geistes, 1807. Honneth, A. 1995. The struggle for recognition: The moral grammar of social conflicts. Cambridge: Polity Press. hooks, b. 1989. TALKING BACK: Thinking feminist, thinking black. Boston: South End Press. hooks, b. 1990. Yearnings: Race, gender, and cultural politics. Boston: South End Press. hooks, b. 2000. Feminism is for everybody: Passionate politics. Boston: South End Press. Keating, C. 2005. Building coalitional consciousness. NWSA Journal 17 (2): 86–103. Kelland, L. 2016. A call to arms: The centrality of feminist consciousness-raising speak-outs to the recovery of rape survivors. Hypatia 31 (4): 730–745. Kojève, A. 1969. Introduction to the reading of Hegel: Lectures on the phenomenology of spirit. New York: Basic Books. Kruks, S. 2001. Retrieving experience: Subjectivity and recognition in feminist politics. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Martin, T. 2002. Oppression and the human condition. Lanham: Rowman and Littlefield. Merleau-Ponty, M. 2002. Phenomenology of perception. London: Routledge. First published Phénoménologie de la perception, 1945. Mngxitama, A., A. Alexander, and N.C. Gibson. 2008. Biko lives: Contesting the legacies of Steve Biko. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Monahan, M.J. 2006. Recognition beyond struggle: On a liberatory account of Hegelian recognition. Social Theory and Practice 32 (3): 389. More, M.P. 2008. Biko: Africana existentialist philosopher. In Biko lives: Contesting the legacies of Steve Biko, ed. A. Mngxitama, A. Alexander, and N.C. Gibson. New York: Palgrave Macmillan. Reagon, B.J. 1983. Coalition politics: Turning the century. In Home girls: A Black feminist anthology, ed. B. Smith. New York: Kitchen Table: Women of Color Press. Sartre, J.P. 1943. Being and nothingness. Paris: Éditions Gallimard, Philosophical Library. Sartre, J.P. 1948. Anti-Semite and Jew: An etiology of hate. New York: Schocken Books.

Moral Good, the Self, and the M/other Upholding Difference

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Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Moral Good for Self and Other . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conversation with a Zulu Stranger . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . When Other Is Like Self . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Embracing the Other as Self . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . When the Other Becomes Self . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The Other Is Not Self . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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This chapter employs the relevant ethical phenomenologies of Buber, Lévinas, Kierkegaard, and Nietzsche as well as the philosophical psychoanalysis of Lacan to examine the moral good of difference and to determine the rationale of treating either self or other as more deserving of good. Difference and otherness are not synonymous. Following the Socratic style of dialogue, the chapter emerges from a conversation with a Zulu man who perceives the author as a privileged, white, female South African other due to the failure of the self to understand the actual difference of the other. There also seems, the author acknowledges, to be a pre-existing and fundamental moral value in regard to relating with and comprehending the other as both self-like and necessarily not-self, a moral value emerging from the Christian overdetermination of many South Africans including the Zulu man – the author is, again, “other” (not privileged, not white, not South African, and not Christian). To this end, Levitical and Deuteronomic R. Baum (*) Primary Healthcare Directorate, University of Cape Town, Cape Town, South Africa Psychology, John F. Kennedy University, Pleasant Hill, CA, USA University of Haifa, Haifa, Israel e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_24

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texts are invoked as a shared philosophical basis for understanding the difference between self and other. From these analyses, the chapter shows that we other violently when we do not understand our difference. But when we take time to stop and reflect and listen, we can reach agreement that we are completely different in a positive sense – a strategic rethinking of “otherness.” This important and essential form of difference is theorized in the chapter as “m/othering,” illustrating the original forming of identity on which we tend to base perceptions of the other. Difference is shown to be not only desirable but possibly imperative for cultural growth. Keywords

Other · Self · Moral good · Personal identity · Subjectivity

Introduction A moral dilemma, US bioethicist Paul Root Wolpe reminded me in 2016, is not about what is good and what is bad, but what is good and good – or good and better. Bad and good do not constitute a dilemma for any creature, in fact, and it could be argued that most animals instinctively and instantly determine what is bad and what is good and do the good. Saint Augustine is credited by Rabelais of having said to love God and do what you like: What I have said so far applies to actions that are similar. When they are different, we find people made fierce by love and by wickedness made seductively gentle. A father beats a boy, while a kidnapper caresses him. Offered a choice between blows and caresses, who would not choose the caresses and avoid the blows? But when you consider the people who give them, you realize that it is love that beats and wickedness that caresses. This is what I insist upon: human actions can only be understood by their root in love. All kinds of actions might appear good without proceeding from the root of love. Remember, thorns also have flowers: some actions seem truly savage but are done for the sake of discipline motivated by love. Once and for all, I give you this one short command: love, and do what you will. If you hold your peace, hold your peace out of love. If you cry out, cry out in love. If you correct someone, correct them out of love. If you spare them, spare them out of love. Let the root of love be in you: nothing can spring from it but good. (St Augustine, nd).

Elsewhere we find, “For if, with the spirit of wisdom a man loves God, then, always striving to fulfill the divine will, what he wishes should be the right thing” (Reichs 2008: 425). (The phrase is often presented as “Love God and do what you will,” which may not be the same thing.) This seems a rather naive evaluation of human will, which fatefully neglects the evil genius reposing someplace in the vicinity of what is called a “conscience.” The intention to do good is highly mutable, as is the manner in which the Divine is “loved,” worshipped, or said to be honored. And a spirit of wisdom is often incompatible with faith. Without delving into religious dogma, I wish to examine the context of moral good, the self, and the other. As this is a brief exegesis, I will make limited

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references to four philosophers who grappled with the concept of moral intersubjectivity, namely, Nietzsche, Kierkegaard, Buber, and Lévinas. I will invoke biblical passages to clarify cultural rather than religious differences. Ultimately, what I mean to argue is not that there is no difference between peoples, but that there is, that this difference is desirable, and that moral good lies not in eradicating difference but in upholding it.

Moral Good for Self and Other One might begin by projecting that what is good for the self is also good for the other. It is just this sort of philosophizing that leads, little by little, to misogyny, abuse, and terrorism – in other words, to subjugation of difference; for what is good for me, I can (given enough authority or force) impose upon you, in the understanding that it has value for you. This line of thinking suggests that there is only one moral good – mine or that of the person in power at the time. A belief in the universality of morality, like a belief in the superiority of self over other, negates difference. A belief in the universality of morality also negates reason. We have seen that cultures across the world and throughout time hold varying views of morality. Upper-class Victorian England, for instance, eschewed the whole body in sexuality and used bundling boards, holes cut strategically in sheets, marital abstinence, and sex with prostitutes to avoid sexual congress between men and upper-class ladies. Lower-class “females,” on the other hand, could be handled standing up in an alley. In South Africa and Swaziland, kings still officiate over the annual Reed Dance, ostensibly a celebration of maidenhood, more overtly a sorting event for eligible maidens who aspire to royalty. “Virginity tests” are conducted by older women who examine the backs of one’s legs and the insides of one’s body, prior to a “maiden’s” inclusion in the dance event. In the dance itself, maidens are bare-chested and often bare-bottomed beneath a short, colorfully beaded skirt. This would not do for black African street wear. And such a garment would be considered licentious were a matron, a virgin of another race, or virtually any other category of person to wear it. Not only are females in the Reed Dance and in Victorian England treated differently, but in contemporary Southern Africa, where there are a number of moral and social standards for females depending upon their ages, races, and sexual education. Morality is hardly universal when it cannot even be universalized to a single site or time. Although we have begun with references to gender difference, this investigation is more narrowly concerned with cultural difference – which in South Africa may be considered a euphemism for racial difference. It is unfortunately a small step to a discussion of racial and cultural otherness (the politics of which is undoubtedly discussed elsewhere in this book). As historian Irit Rogoff states: the histories of women, of Slavs, of Jews, of regional people and every form of affiliated otherness is documented and harnessed to a series of ordering paradigms (in which) the

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narrative structures are in place and other bodies of information, alternative factualities are set into them. (Rogoff 1994: 2)

Gender and race are, perhaps will always be, forms of “affiliated otherness,” sometimes implicitly referenced in connection with their “affiliate.” I intend no such complicity (or implicitness); while arguing for the sustainability of difference, including gender, this cultural study does not privilege any. I recall a series of photographs of zebras grazing on the side of a river they have just forded. One of their herd is still in the river and (invisible in the photographs) beneath the water a crocodile is attached to its leg. The grazing zebras appear to be placid but may well be thinking or openly discussing the possibility of being similarly attacked if they go, singly or en masse, to the assistance of their kind. Yet they stay nearby. Guarding the riverbank? Giving silent support? Witnessing? Eventually the zebra in the river manages to get free and struggles forward – but is caught again. By now this zebra is tired and losing too much blood to try to flee again. So he stands in place, seemingly accepting the inevitable. Of course this is anthropomorphizing the poor zebra. He may actually be praying that the river god releases him, that the monster on his leg will spontaneously disappear, that his mates on the riverbanks will come to his aid, or that he will die quickly and return to the arms of the Zebra God. If I wished to take this argument into the realm of human will (or human surrender?), I might suggest that the notion of the crocodile is a matter of faith. I have taken on faith the photographer’s claim that there is a crocodile in the water. I cannot see it. There might be anything or nothing there. I have no way of checking this without diving under the surface myself – from which time and geography keep me eternally separated. My ability to accept the statement that a crocodile impedes the zebra is in many ways no different from my willingness to tolerate the existence of G-d or, for that matter, the Devil – which in modern religions bears a closer resemblance to a crocodile. I actually see, in three photographic stills, one zebra in the water, almost static and evidently tiring. What I do not see is infinite and infinitely suggestive. The existence of a predator may simply be a whim of the photographer, which I have soaked up along with a great deal of other misinformation, much of it religious. But the idea of some unseen other appears to be necessary – to justify the immobility of the zebra and confirm a nearly universal human belief in the divine. At this point we could ask (as the zebras may be asking): What purpose would be achieved by the other zebras charging into the river? Heroism? Self-sacrifice? One zebra has been marked as victim and has acquiesced or understood or physically realized this ending. Shall we in the community of zebras surrender another zebra to the hidden monster? No. We should not. So we do not. That would not be good. Not for my(zebra)self and not for the (zebra)selves I love. So nothing is done. (It could also be argued that in this case, the decision is to love self and do what one likes. But the difference between what G-d wants and what the human wants is the domain of both faith and evil.) St Augustine’s dictum illustrates the ambiguity of loving both self and other, as well as their difference. I may choose to do what is good, but I may also know that I could do better.

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This failure of moral universality is presented in the more final and damning example of genocide. The Shoah (the Jewish term for the Holocaust) demonstrates the failure of the state – actually the world – to defend moral good for all peoples while modeling genocide’s operations in a modernist context. The fascist government of Germany decreed war on a large number of civilians, in Germany and throughout the Western world, in a program of extermination, radically redefining morality. This was made feasible by first comprehensively obliterating “humanity” itself. If not all people-like animals are human – if some people (for instance, Jews, Gypsies, homosexuals, the mentally ill, and the dissident) can be legally and philosophically removed from moral consideration – then unthinkable actions can be acceptably pursued against them. Western moral philosophy is based on the assumption that insofar as we are human, we strive to do the Good. It is, we take for granted, only the criminally insane who routinely—day after day, week after week, month after month—engage in systematic and conscious immoral behavior. But the Holocaust presents us with the precise inverse of this assumption. . .Normal people went about their everyday life with genocide happening all around them (. . .), genocide designed in details to torture and humiliate its victims. (Haas 2002: 107)

Moral good is that which is good for self, not other, when other is refused human dignity. In the end, morality can simply be a matter of reclassification.

Conversation with a Zulu Stranger My research sometimes examines the sacrificial foundations that vary from culture to culture, the modes and means of calling forth divine or otherworldly power, and the readings and misreadings of such ceremonies (Baum 2006a, b, 2011). In much of Africa, the liveness of witchcraft is tempered by the liveness of godliness and vice versa (Bond and Ciekawy 2001). Witchcraft, and the conditions which now empower it, is arguably associated with modern life itself (Bond and Ciekawy 2001: 247). Last year, finding myself in an office waiting alongside a stranger in immaculate modern business clothes, I wondered aloud how he balanced modern and traditional morality. The stranger (let’s call him Sbu) slipped easily into a conversation about Zulu tribal beliefs. He had his own questions for me. As a Zulu and a lawyer, Sbu said, he was curious how I would respond to the following statement: “You have three people in your family; you cook enough food for the three.” My immediate response was confusion. “In my family,” I replied, “we always had leftovers.” Why? “Because someone else might show up at the house and be hungry,” I answered, feeling like a child. “Because we must feed him, our family will not have enough to eat. So we must make more than enough.” Sbu was surprised. Apparently this was an answer that resonated with him and his own family mores. Yet to him I looked like his other, someone whom Sbu did not expect to share his cultural values.

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It is easy to imagine what he saw. Growing up in a Mexican-American neighborhood in the United States, I was easily taken for a person of color (Hispanic) and a female. In South Africa, where the State’s racial categories historically exclude foreign others, I am commonly perceived as white – a classification I reject in favor of colored. (Significantly, however, I defy racial classifications in South Africa by not neatly fitting into any of the state-ordered categories.) If he were attempting to “place” me in the world, I would make that easier for him. “At Thanksgiving,” I warmed to my story, “my mother would always ask my father to go to the local air base and bring home some soldier who had no place to go for the holidays.” Pleased by this strange thought, Sbu asked why. “In my culture,” I explained, “it is not enough to have food for oneself. One must be able to provide for others. To not feed another is a personal shame.” As I write I recall Elie Wiesel speaking of being hungry as shame in itself (Wiesel, Public Lecture, 1989). If feeling hunger oneself is shame, then how much more so is the knowledge of one’s inability to feed another.) “What is that from the Bible?” Sbu asked rhetorically as he mentally sought the text. “You must love your neighbor as you love yourself.” He added: “If you love your neighbor, you must also love yourself.” For me this was a spin I found unique and worth pursuing, as the phrase means something very different. (We return to this in the next section.) Eventually I countered: “In my opinion the most radical text in the Bible is in Leviticus. (Texts on the ger can be found prolifically in Dvarim (Deuteronomy), BaMidbar (Exodus), and Vayikra (Leviticus), but this chapter will focus on two references.) It speaks of the ger – the one who is a complete stranger: a person unknown to you and from another nation. He may not even be your neighbor, but someone from a foreign land.” “And now?” he asked. “Leviticus tells us that when we are harvesting, we must always leave a portion of our field for the ger. (From LEVITICUS 23: 22: “When you harvest the produce of your land, you are not to harvest all the way to the corners of your field or gather the gleanings of your harvest. Leave them for the poor and resident alien. I am the Lord your God.”) “Because,” I quoted, “you too were once strangers in a strange land.” (EXODUS 22: 21 and 23: 9: “You shall not oppress a stranger, since you yourselves know the feelings of a stranger, for you also were strangers in the land of Egypt.”) Sbu looked at me with greater interest. It seems that my culture and Sbu’s are not so different even though I do not look like him, and in South Africa I am myself the ger, a person from a foreign land. This moment of our intersubjectivity was a sort of axis or turning point, as we identified two moral goods and the difference between them. There is an Other who is not my Self. On this we seemed to readily agree. He is Zulu; I am not Zulu; therefore, in his view, we are not the same. Such a concept relies upon a construction of race, which is bound to unduly separate people. He is a man; I am a woman; therefore, in his view, we are not the same. This notion depends upon the limitations of gender in a binary context, also a misunderstanding of difference. He is he, and I am I; therefore, in my view, we are not the same, because we are not each other. This concept does not reject a shared reality, but rather a shared embodiment, consistent with phenomenology and heuristics. My experience is undoubtedly not the same as his. However, in both our cultures, the Other is like myself. What does that really mean?

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When Other Is Like Self In my terminology, the ger (the historical, biblical, Other) must be provided for. Sbu’s point is that in providing for the ger, I also provide for myself. These are two moral goods or perhaps a reduplication of one good. The personification of the Other (the ger) is as if he is myself: I only love myself if I love the other, and I only love the other if I also love myself. The other, the one who is not I, is therefore the simile of self, perhaps the simulacrum of self. I become myself by recognizing the ger as like myself. This is just what Lévinas decided: I know myself because of my knowing the one who is not myself. In fact, I cannot be myself unless there is another who is not myself, not I. My ability to sense myself is derived from my sense of another self apart from me. But now we have wandered into the territory of the psychologist Jacques Lacan. In the “mirror stage,” I see what seems to be me. (Although I would rather stay with my sensing of self, for Lacan, this stage is a visual operation.) This I, the one who dominates the mirror, proves the existence of another self whom I see and who reflects me. The other does not necessarily reflect me as I am (and that is why I will need a psychologist like Lacan to sort me out), but the other does (unless he is a pure narcissist) reflect me. In this phase I understand that I am a self with a sensible reflection, a difference from the other that I first experience with great anxiety: the moment when I realize that (as for psychologist Melanie Klein), the mother does not magically appear as part of myself and my longing, but rather because she is willing to sustain me. My anxiety comes about precisely at the time that I figure out – along with my mother acting out this stage – that she does not appear at my will but rather at her own and perhaps she will decide to not appear. This separation anxiety will reinforce the sense of otherness: for I would not be anxious had I not just realized that she is not part of me – that she, too, is an other. She is other to me; she is not my Self. My mother, who is my self, seems to become an Other at this stage. My mother becomes my primary other. Of course in reality, it is I who was my mother and through the strange offices of gestation and expulsion first separated from her. Thus I became the ger, living from her field. But as an infant, I am self-centered and can only conceive of myself and anything that orbits around me, as if I were the Sun: chiefly mother, milk, and comfort. When I want something else, I learn to point, later to speak, and still later to get it for myself. That is how we manage otherness in a healthy childhood or before we learn about race and gender and other ways of limiting people. I trust that by now my views on the other are fairly clear. But where is the justice in this? As an infant I perceive my m/Other’s actions as completely unjust. This sudden and painful separation is my initial expulsion. I experience an exodus so radical and horrible that I will spend the rest of my life (if I am a man) trying to get back inside or (if I am a woman) reflecting the mother (while trying to get back inside). Because of this first injustice (leaving aside the poor spermatozoa which didn’t win the race to the golden egg), there is much I do not understand about others. I think they think only of me. I think they exist only for me. In a nutshell, I think they are me. If not, then they have no ultimate purpose.

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The second injustice, a less physical but more emotional separation, proves that these others are not me (the mirror stage as just defined). And a third injustice occurs when I turn away from these others, because I am occupied only with myself. (For the purposes of this chapter, I am ignoring what Derrida claims always to have written about and which I or you may consider an injustice: circumcision. My argument can be found in Baum 2006b.) This injustice is a phenomenologically ethical quandary. The first and second injustices are such that I will, if I am relatively neurotypical, overcome them by the age of 4 and much earlier if I do not suffer delayed development or emotional disability. I perceive that the mother is actually other or m/other, if you will. She no longer appears immediately at my screamed command; I no longer nurse at her breast (unless she is particularly obsessive); I have begun to develop my own identity separate from hers. The man or woman in her life is either a threat or a second source of sustenance; this depends upon their relationship with each other as well as with me. I eventually endure a horrible separation when I go to school or some other regular source of discomfort outside the home. These injustices eventually become absorbed as normalcy, in large part because it has happened to everyone I know and my caregivers do not recognize it as an injustice. They simply want me out of the house so they can go about their own business.

Embracing the Other as Self The third injustice – turning away from others – is actually the focus of this research. Let us query how this comprises an injustice. Should I not turn away? The act of not turning away – of meeting and perhaps even welcoming the other – is the basis of the work of Lévinas, Buber, and of course Nietzsche, Kierkegaard, Aquinas, de Chardin, and a host of other theological writers. I shall focus briefly on the first four. Frederich Nietzsche (1967) is so overcome by the magnitude of the other that he forswears it. But he also dedicates a great deal of his work to moving beyond his own fear of this difference, and to a state of merging with the other. This is transcendence. Transcendence is not his alone: we detect transcendence in other philosophers’ works – in Kant (1993), for instance: In Kant’s moral theory, as in other moral theories, the core of morality is the capacity to transcend the self along with its drives and interests, and therefore, as Kant formulated it, moral drama resides in the conflict between self-transcendency and self-love (Halbertal 2013: 4)

Yet, as Moshe Halbertal succinctly puts it, “misguided self-transcendence has a potential to lead to far greater evils and harms than those that are motivated by excessive self-love” (4). And Nietzsche claims to not love G-d, even as he submits to a feeling that can only be adequately defined by something deistic or at least supernatural.

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Søren Kierkegaard (1986) meets his other (or this other) with what he calls “fear and trembling.” He is overwhelmed, alarmed, and awe-struck. This is not a new feeling in regard to the encounter with G-d but perhaps a new way of expressing it. Instead of mouthing platitudes about the god of love, he meets the god of wrath and fury – what some people incorrectly call “the Old Testament G-d.” This god is neither; this god is much more personal. He is Kierkegaard’s relationship with the other, with his notion of G-d, and cannot be simplified as coming from this or that text, including or especially the Bible. Kierkegaard has been honest with himself and with us in writing about his experience. It is awe-inspiring; it is aweful; it will be fatal. Kierkegaard is completely invested in identifying this encounter of a third kind, this supernatural meeting, and in understanding it as far as he is able. He does not pretend to blissfully fuse with the godhead (which could be called “self-transcendence”); he does not claim to know G-d better than others do (which might be another way of looking at self-love). For Kierkegaard, knowing G-d is a mission, and it is a difficult one, but he persists. The gift that such a sacrifice comprises is one Kierkegaard feels he must make, because of the nature of this other. Like the ancient Greeks or Aztecs or Hindus or Hebrews, Kierkegaard is called to this sacrifice. Martin Buber (1973) brings an old calling but a new tool to this mission of meeting the other: a sacrifice that identifies self-love and self-transcendence and seeks to eliminate the conflict between the two. That is, to love the other, there must be a self that does not turn away from that other or oneself – that recognizes the trace of the other in oneself and dedicates the self to developing this otherness. The ultimate other, for Buber, is “Thou.” The ultimate self is “I.” He also does not turn away from this hardship: he must deal with himself as well as with the supernatural other. Although he doesn’t speak of it this way, it might be said that in order to reconcile the two beings, Buber returns to the injustice of separation from our maker, which I am calling m/other. If this other participates in oneself, then the mandate is not only to self-transcendence but also to self-love. Losing its inherent selfish conflict, there ceases to be a “moral drama” over the self’s primary interests. Instead Buber evokes a desire to embrace the other – not as oneself but as the other who is essential to his being self or self-being. This brings us back to Lévinas, who turns away from Buber and speaks of the other as self. He tells us that we can know the other only as we know the self; we can love the other only if we love the self. One hears the echo of my beginning. Love the other as thyself. But also: love thyself. Only then can you also love your neighbor. In facing the other as oneself, Lévinas posits the end to a very human debate that creates war, murder, and victimhood, the Shoah. If we can see the other as ourselves, then we cannot do harm to the other without the awareness of concomitantly harming ourselves. Lévinas (1981) does us a service in addressing the injustice we are inclined to show the other. He argues that we must not turn away from the other, but face him. Hence my reiteration of turning, returning, facing and not effacing. This facing resonates with showing face or keeping face, doing the honorable thing by not turning away, and doing the selfless thing by reflecting (on) the other as the self. The other and the self are nearly unified in Lévinas’ mission: the other is to be seen

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as (or before) the self. Our task is to dissolve the other into the self, to see no difference. (In a sense, we are to return to the mirror stage as adults, to witness the other as self and same.) Like Buber, Lévinas sees G-d as the transcendent Other: . . .the transcendence of the Infinite turns into a relationship with another [antrui], my neighbor. . .proximity signifies, from the face of the other man, the responsibility already assumed for him. . .this untransferable and inescapable responsibility. . .. (1998: 120)

But he means to take on Nietzsche and Kierkegaard and to focus on the human relationship of Self to Self: The subjectivity that says I takes on meaning in this responsibility of the first-come, of the first person torn from the comfortable place that he or she occupied as a protected individual in the concept of the I in general of the philosophies of self-consciousness. The question of the Other turns back into responsibility for another, and the fear of God—which is as foreign to fright before the sacred as it is to anguish before nothingness—turns into fear for the neighbor and for his death. (1998: 120)

Surely seeing Other as Self is a monumental task, a Herculean labor? Remember that Hercules is sent to clean the stable of the divine. (He is to be buried in horseshit, like an infant, but rises to the occasion with maturity.) To continue with ancient Greek imagery, if the mirror shows both my face and the other’s, then the shield that reflects Medusa’s face (Creed 1993) can only transform me into a monster. To turn away is monstrous. To look at the other is human. My responsibility for what I hitherto called the other is paramount: I manifest tzedakah (righteousness) by seeing this other as myself. Most significantly, if the other is a monster, then perhaps so am I. (It is tempting to introduce the discourse on woman as monster so prevalent in Western literature, but the reference to a monstrous self is not gendered. For an excellent gendered examination, see Barbara Creed 1993, especially 151–166.) Now this responsibility for the other does not seem so cordial; the recognition of self in other is painful. To turn away may be monstrous, but to recognize my own monstrosity may be souldestroying.

When the Other Becomes Self Such self-analysis and deconstruction would seem an exemplary state, a condition of moral superiority. To return to my earlier conversation, here is the neighbor I am to love as much as myself. But no: he is not actually a neighbor, because he is as if myself: that is, we are not separate. In this formula, the other falls away: we have only self (I) and self (other), whom I resist thinking of as anything but myself. The conclusion to this, I believe, will be one in which there are only selves and no other, but because this other is as myself, he is, functionally, myself.

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Of course, there is just as great a possibility that I will perceive myself as having become the other. This is not in my best interests – or the other’s. This sort of intersubjectivity leaves me with a sense of self-transcendence at the cost of self-love or self-love at the expense of self-transcendence. I am not even certain which it is. But I know that something revolutionary has been lost, as I shall explain. The biblical text I cited as I began is also found throughout the book of Deuteronomy. In Hebrew the title of the chapter is Dvarim (things or objects). The authors did not struggle to name the text, which is simply named after the first word in the passage. But this word is exemplary, in that “things” have a significant phenomenological genealogy. Husserl’s (1980) focus on “the things themselves” calls the reader back to the mystery, the marvel, of the original experience, and the importance of perception.

The Other Is Not Self In the revolutionary ancient text, this book of Things, or Deuteronomy, we are implored to provide for the ger, by leaving a corner of our fields unharvested; this enables the unknown (and most likely illiterate) other can also live by our means. (By this reference to illiteracy, I mean that my other has not read the ancient text by which I live; the ger will only know me by my actions.) I can find no more progressive text or task. Although I myself was once the ger, the unknown (and possibly unknowable) other, in this theorem I am no longer alien. I am not what I was; that is, the self by which I knew myself and the other is not the same self. Now it is I who has ownership and who has things. And so I am admonished to remember the context of alienation, my estrangement from the world around me. I am reminded of my own otherness. The ger and I are not intended to merge or unify, because we are not the same. Rather, I am exhorted – I am commanded – to help the other because of his otherness. And this constitutes, I think, a more demanding labor and a far more significant injunction. It is as “radical” as Husserl’s epoché and its consequential reduction. This moment of facing an eternal and different otherness – and not turning away – is a testament (Friedman 1987: 104–107) to how the world can be looked at, bracketed, and reassembled. This world can be repaired. This commandment fills me with wonder – Husserl’s most radical transformation from knowing to thickly experiencing. There is the other and myself; yet I must carry out my duty to us both. I must give to the other, knowing that he is not myself, and may not even be like myself. I give not despite of his difference but because of it. I resolve my moral dilemma by casting both of us, myself and the other, as deserving of good. Moral good, therefore, is neither universal nor essential. It is those standards decreed by my culture and yours, generally with reference only to one culture (not yours). Moral good is continually contested and negotiated in a fiercely political and religious arena, with the objective of establishing one moral good to reign superior over another, without consideration for another moral system. In this context, moral

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good simply connotes power over others, others which are not accorded the rights (or responsibilities) of self. When it seems morally expedient to view otherness as alienation and estrangement, denying others the humanity of oneself, then we have lost the longer and more tolerant worldview of the ancients, in which the other was like oneself, and reminded oneself that history is unkind and repetitious. The obligation to provide for the other was a call to humanity, to moral goodness, in which the other was an essential adjunct to self, a conduit for one’s own goodness, and a means of relating to the very alien Infinite, a G-d who could not be less like oneself. To care for the other as if oneself becomes a pathway toward acceptance of otherness, not because he/she is self but because myself has also been othered and could again be other at any time. Inimically aware of the changing tides of fortune, the ancient Hebrews followed a covenant with the supreme Other, which impressed upon them the (greater) likeness of humans to other humans. We are all different, we were told, and difference is a good thing. It keeps us human. This concept makes its holders exceptional from other people and other nations, but it does not make individuals holy before G-d or other humans. It simply makes us acceptably human in the desert. For we are all in the desert of humanity. In this regard, none of us is different from any other.

References Augustine, St Aurelius. (nd). Sermon on 1 John 4:4–12. Abridged and modernized, Stephen Tomkins. Ed. Dan Graves. https://www.christianhistoryinstitute.org/study/module/augustine/. Accessed 01, March 2017. Baum, Rob. 2006a. Chasing horses, eating Arabs. Islamic masculinities, 105–118. London: Zed Books. Baum, Rob. 2006b. Circumspection: Signs of G-d on Jews’ bodies. Journal of Theatre and Religion 5 (2): 73–90. Baum, Rob. 2011. Aphra Behn’s black body: Sex, lies & narrativity in Oroonoko. Special issue on transgressive auto/biography. Brno: Studies in English 37: 7–29. Bond, George Clement, and Diane M. Ciekawy, eds. 2001. Witchcraft dialogues: Anthropological and philosophical exchanges. Athens: Ohio University Center for International Studies. Buber, Martin. 1973. I/thou. New York: CharlesScribner’s Sons. Creed, Barbara. 1993. The monstrous feminine: Film, feminism, psychoanalysis. New York: Routledge. Friedman, Richard Elliott. 1987. Who wrote the Bible? New York: Harper & Row, Publishers. Haas, Peter J. 2002. Ethics in the post-Shoah era: Giving up the search for a universal ethic. Ethical Perspectives 8: 105–116. Halbertal, Moshe. 2013. On sacrifice. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Husserl, Edmund. 1980. Ideas pertaining to a pure phenomenology and to a phenomenological philosophy – Third book: Phenomenology and the foundations of the sciences. Trans. T. E. Klein and W. E. Pohl. Dordrecht: Kluwer [1913]. Kant, Immanuel. 1993. Grounding for the metaphysics of morals. Indianapolis: Hackett [1797]. Kierkegaard, Søren. 1986. Fear and trembling. Trans. Alastair Hannay. New York: Penguin Classics [1843]. Lévinas, Emanuel. 1981. Otherwise than being, or beyond essence. Trans. Alphonso Lingis. The Hague: Martinus Nuhoff Publishers.

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Lévinas, Emanuel. 1998. Of God who comes to mind. Trans. Bettina Bergo. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Nietzsche, Friedrich. 1967. On the genealogy of morals and Ecce Homo. Trans./ed. W. Kaufmann. New York: Vintage [1887]. Reichs, Kathy. 2008. Fatal voyage. London: Arrow Books. Rogoff, Irit. 1994. From “ruins” to “debris” – The feminisation of Fascism in German history museums. Lecture. University of California, Santa Barbara. Wiesel, Eli. (1989). Public Lecture. Brown University. Providence, Rhode Island.

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The Paradox of Decolonization and Common Good Erasmus Masitera

Contents Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Land Redistribution as a Process of Decolonization . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Understanding Land Redistribution . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Understanding of Decolonization . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Land Redistribution as Common Good . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Understanding Common Good . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The “Othering” from Land Redistribution: Social Injustice and the Results of Thingifying . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Structural Injustice and Othering . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Land Redistributions: The Case of Zimbabwe . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ending Thingification: The Importance of Democracy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Abstract

In this chapter I argue for land redistribution that promotes common good and decolonization for all humans. I achieve this by criticizing land redistributions that are discriminatory, in that regard I particularize the issue to Zimbabwean land reform of 2000 onwards. I note that the particular land redistribution resulted in marginalization, exclusion, thingification, and disempowerment of certain groups of people based on their race and political, economic, and social standing. Opposed to the Author wishes to thank Professor T. Metz for the encouragement to work on this chapter and for being a mentor for the duration of the postdoctoral research fellowship. E. Masitera (*) Department of Philosophy, University of Johannesburg, Johannesburg, South Africa Department of Philosophy and Religious Studies, Great Zimbabwe University, Masvingo, Zimbabwe e-mail: [email protected] © Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5_25

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discriminatory land redistribution, I argue (through the use of philosophical terms and systems) for land redistribution that aims at empowering and promotes wellbeing, common good, and harmony among members of society. Keywords

The other · Exclusion · Decolonization · Common good · Land redistribution · Structural injustice · Well-being

Introduction In this chapter I unpack the political and social struggles that communities (states) go through in the process of land redistribution. I achieve my goals by examining the different ideas and practices underlying land redistribution; these I categorize as (i) land redistribution as a decolonization process and (ii) land redistribution as an attempt at achieving common good. I also examine how and why these ideas contribute to the creation of “the other.” My position is based on the argument that says while decolonization is a process that should liberate both the oppressor and the oppressed into a situation whereby they all become emancipated from systems and processes of oppression (Freire 2005: 39, 66–68), the same cannot be said in some of land redistribution that have occurred, Zimbabwe, for example. I argue that the land redistributions created the wanted and the “other,” the unwanted (Mlambo and Chitando 2015). The excluded include whites and those of a different political persuasion from the ruling party, while the included refers to blacks and those sharing the same political views with the ruling political party; additionally, the land redistribution causes oppression and suppression of the excluded (through a process I call thingification). I further posit that the idea and practice of excluding and including others are always a result of structural and/or systematic injustice. Thingification is witnessed through instances of exclusion, marginalization, and disempowerment that are intentionally implemented in the name of bettering blacks’ socioeconomic livelihood and clandestinely implementing reverse racism. Exclusion, marginalization, and disempowerment are mostly based on differences thereby creating preferences and non-preferences. In like fashion, there is also a sense in which land redistribution has been premised upon the idea of “common good.” However, “common good,” in land redistributions, has been misconstrued to and constrained or limited to race and sometimes to political affiliation. In actual fact common good is defined as the attainment of a collective goal and/or interest (Magness 1999: 23; Composta 2008: 162), yet in defining and practicing common good, this is ignored. Through analyzing how the term common good has been used (in arguments and in practice) in land redistribution, I conclude that postcolonial land redistributions aim at creating differences or the “other” – the wanted and the not wanted. Such a social position creates disharmony and social dislocation causing suffering, exclusion, and humiliation in individuals who are not considered as belonging. As a suggestion to end such social evil, this chapter proposes a humane

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moral responsible (well-being) conception of decolonization and common good that is guided by democracy. In illustrating my argument(s), I will use Zimbabwe land redistribution as the case study. This chapter will proceed by first looking at land redistribution as a form of decolonization. In the process of doing so, the chapter will define decolonization and point out instances where exclusion occurred and argue why it so happened. After that, the chapter will then focus on the idea of common good as a process aimed at land redistribution. In that endeavor, common good will be discussed in detail. The work will also reveal how and why arguments for common good resulted in exclusion and the creation of the other. Third, I focus on the issue of othering, as part of thingification emanating from structural injustice. Fourth, I concentrate on proffering ideas on ending thingification, which in this case is through democracy. Lastly, fifth, I will provide a summary of the whole chapter in the conclusion.

Land Redistribution as a Process of Decolonization Understanding Land Redistribution Since the attainment of independence from the colonial bondage, attempts have been made by different African countries to consolidate or obliterate the oppressive and racist colonial systems. Among the strategies adopted in dismantling colonial superiority and bondages, states worked at included transforming civil services, promoting formerly disadvantaged groups into positions of power, replacing colonial names with local names (Ndlovu 2018), changing educational curriculum to suit, and taking cognizant of the formerly disadvantaged (Masaka 2018). In some instances, the decolonization process involved repossessing of physical space by those who were displaced by the colonial system. This includes repossessing and reclaiming of farming or agricultural lands that had been taken by the colonizers. The repossession and reclaiming in part refer to land redistribution or reform, implying freeing the land from possession or ownership dominance of one race. Analysis of the terms “reform” and “redistribution” in the case of Zimbabwe is important. According to an argument proffered by Auret (1990), “reform” denotes governmental involvement in changing land tenure systems and cultures. Land reform has a broad meaning which ranges from arguments for altering ownership patterns to changing regulations on land ownership and to a particular way of distributing the land. Auret (1990) further avers that land reform is government regulated and involves procedures necessary to support human life and existence, which include having proper infrastructural support and attempts at maintaining or not upsetting social harmony and stability. Land redistribution on the other hand is a particular way of (re)arranging land ownership (Jacobs et al. 2003). Kepe and Hall (2016: 6) added that land redistribution includes debates that inform land reform; debates such as social justice, equality, ending racial discrimination, and improving livelihoods and quality of life for the disadvantaged are the dominant issues in land

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redistribution. Noteworthy here is that land redistribution has two facets, that is, the theoretical (mere debates) and the practical aspect (actual implementation). In the argument that follows, I try to illustrate that the attempt to bring together the understanding of land redistribution (theory and practice) has resulted in confusion. Land “redistribution” in Africa has become synonymous with (i) arguments for and actual forced removal of white farmers, (ii) haphazard and disorderly land allocation, (iii) un-procedural distribution of land with no infrastructure support, and (iv) violent and right abuse. The reason behind the haphazard reallocation of land is a result of a number of factors which include frustration that had beset upon the local communities with the slow and almost stagnant land reforms as was the case with Zimbabwean government in embarking on since 1980 (Muzondidya 2009: 174). Moreover, the redistribution becomes a people-driven initiative which begins when “local” communities around farming areas invade farming lands. This partly explains why land redistributions became disorderly – there is no governmental or local municipality control over the process. Importantly, the invasions and land reallocation contains decolonization overtone, which is getting rid of foreigners or colonizers from lands that belong to locals and repossession of lost ancestral lands (Masitera 2016). On the level of debating, this makes sense, yet the implementation leaves a lot to be desired. My focus now turns to understanding decolonization.

Understanding of Decolonization Mbembe (2015), Pillay (2015), and Prinsloo (2016: 165) have interpreted the process of decolonization as deeply governed by the drive to remove colonial symbols and systems through serious re-evaluation of “the self” being done by the new independent communities. Ngugi wa Thiong’o (2004: 88) had earlier averred that decolonization is about rejecting Western understanding of Africa and Western placing of Africa flowing from the West’s understanding. Moreover, decolonization is the re-centering, repositioning, and redefining of the selves in light of the social reality that has been experienced by Africans (Thiong’o 2004). In other words, decolonization is reshaping communities through resisting and confronting the dominance of the colonial epistemology, structural and physical space, moral and cultural systems, and the attempt to establish systems that reflect an authentic African system. The decolonizing process is equivalent to what Paulo Freire (2005) refers to as the liberating or emancipatory process which is of dialogic in nature. The dialogue is between the oppressed and the oppressor with the intention to attain liberation of both the oppressor and the oppressed. Freire’s (2005, 2012: 4–5) thinking is that engaging each other in a critical dialogue is necessary in removing dogmatic point of views and forming an ethic of living together. (It is important to note that Freire’s discussion was on education and the development of the ethic of emancipation from an educational point of view.) Such a process takes courage in “finding” each other and in breaking the boundaries of perceptions so as to forge better relations (a new ethic of living) in communities that have been divided.

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Basing on the foregoing discussion, I aver land redistribution in independent African countries as one of the ways of achieving emancipation at the structural, mental, and physical space levels. This conclusion is based on the consideration which claim that the continual presence and holding of huge tracks of lands by former colonialists or their descendants are considered perpetuations of colonial systems (This includes the continuation of colonial tenure systems, culture, and other colonial forms of disempowering the indigenes.), thus hindering the process of total emancipation. In order for total emancipation to be realized, there is therefore the need to redistribute land to the locals who have been disadvantaged by colonial systems. Most importantly is the fact that according to Freire (2005), the emancipation process is a two-way process whereby the oppressor and oppressed engage in discussion on how best to forge ahead together. In forging a new way of living together, other facets of human living are also addressed; these facets include the economic, social, and political lives of the people. By engaging in discussion, the dialoguing groups are motivated by the need to end injustice and inequalities and by the interest to establish sustainable harmony. In the process of discussions, chances are that the discussions result in redefining and reeducating oneself for a reconstructed community. However, as much as the ideas stated are well known in discourses related to decolonization, it baffles the mind that scholars such as Thiong’o (2004: 88), Mbembe (2015), Pillay (2015), and Prinsloo (2016: 165) miss the vital point of discussions and forming a future together. The kind of decolonization they argue for is very limited in that they argue for decolonization through elimination of the oppressor by removing them from the physical space. This is a myopic perception of human life in that it fails to capture the history of the people (the pre-colonial, colonial, and postcolonial influences and establishments). The authentic or true African situation is inclusive of the effects of colonization and its contribution to the history of Africa; it is impossible to totally ignore that it (colonization) has become part of our history and to a certain extend part of our heritage (inasmuch as there is now racial diversity and history in general) (Mamwelo 2011: 106–107). With this in mind, it is pertinent that whenever the argument for decolonization is presented, it ought to capture this perspective as well. The point I am expressing here had earlier on been expressed by some of the firstgeneration African political philosophers such as Nyerere, Senghor, and Kaunda, among others. These philosophers had realized that it is difficult to totally ignore the contributions that colonization had on the African continent and its people. The contributions of colonization are both negative and positive; with this in mind then, it is important to discuss decolonization as a process of rearranging states in light of pre-colonial traditional, colonial, and present traditions. Hence, even when thinking of land redistribution as a process of decolonization, it is pertinent to have history in hindsight and use discursive engagement as the best way forward in reconstructing a future for any community. The first-generation African political philosophers had realized that multiculturalism and multiracial existence were a reality in the African social political and economic landscape. It seems as if the philosophers had realized that relying on one

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epoch of historical development would perpetuate the colonial unjust systems through a reverse sense. Thus, recognizing and respecting ideas from all epochs are necessary in redefining and reshaping African thinking. Indirectly this is a way of avoiding seeking and emphasizing upon differences among people and also avoiding classification of people into the “them” and us categories. Paradoxically, in relation to the land redistribution and certainly the Zimbabwean version, land reallocation has been premised upon emphasizing on differences based on race (black and white) or precisely the formation of a new form of land racism. In this form of racism, “them” refers to those with different ideas or of a different race, and, the unwanted, the “us” refers to those considered indigenes and those sharing same ideas with the ruling class. This kind of understanding decolonization fails to respect differences and multiculturalism; certainly it leads to myopic conception of human existence and decolonization. This is a paradox to the understanding of decolonization as defined in this chapter.

Land Redistribution as Common Good Understanding Common Good In this section of the chapter, I now focus on land redistribution as the promotion of common good. In presenting the concept of common good, Composta (2008: 161–162) argues that common good is the aim and final end of a state. This thinking is also expressed by Magness (1999: 22), Simm (2011; 554), and Etzioni (2015: 1). These philosophers also augment the understanding of the concept by adding collective good, public good, and public interest as synonyms of common good. This is a contestable position, but I will not vest time in discussing the differences which at most is not much if not semantic in essence. Common good is therefore the “sum goal and interests” that unites and is acceptable to the citizens (Composta 2008: 161–162). This means that common good cannot be identified by one goal but is a composite of goals that “conserves (order) and promotes (progress)” (Composta 2008: 162), hence the view which is borrowed from Rousseau that common good is a shared interest. It is important at this juncture to clarify as to what constitute the good being referred to. The good(s) referred to pertains to political, economic, and social liberties and opportunities that are at the disposition of every individual in society in general and not in particular. This means that everyone has access to the social goods but each utilizes “it/them” in their own way. For Composta access to these different goods is a goal that has to do with realizing one’s own goals within different facets of human interactions. This perception of Composta is in sync with Velasques et al.’s (1992) view, which avers that common good is and has to support individual’s realization of own interests. In addition and in support of the views shared above, Gyekye (2010) argues that common good refers to the shared good of all in society; furthermore, common good reflects the individual interests in the realization of the well-being of the individual. Gyekye goes on to argue that common good is essential in societies and is not a

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contingent or aggregate of individual good but a communal aggregate. The thinking behind Gyekye’s conclusion is that if aggregate of individual good is the premise of “common good,” then private interests or goods take precedence, hence distorting the understanding of “common.” In this sense Gyekye’s reasoning complements Composta’s (2008: 168) view that says “common” indicates “all” members of the community’s interest (agreeing on a way to live together). Inferred from the above is that good is to be achieved; but what is this good? Good is not just a term; it is a value that is to be aimed at in the political, social, and economic realms. According to Composta (2008: 167), “good” is an end and a value; “good is not causal, but must be wished or chosen: either for justice or for friendship”; this reflects the moral value and goal of “good.” By combining the two terms “common” and “good” into “common good,” it becomes apparent that there is a sense in which a community or society (all) is considered as forming a value or values so as to realize their own ends (Gyekye 2010). Implied in this thinking is that value(s) are or is formed by all (since this is what common good means), is intrinsic to human society since it symbolizes, and is reached through justice and friendship (Composta 2008: 167). At the same time, “common good” as a value shows its finite nature, that is, value(s) can be changed depending on the interests of the people (Composta 2008: 168). This argument, Magness (1999: 23) observes that common good is an objective that is attained by society after assessing and reassessing its own living conditions. Such a position reveals that common good is not static but is always changing according to people, generations’ interests, and goals. In addition, common good promotes inclusivity; it does not promote discrimination since arriving at a common goal is a reflection of everyone’s interest. Having said all that, still two questions present themselves and need to be answered: (i) which values are considered good and (ii) who decides if a good is truly common? These are contentious questions, yet they require some response; the responses are in the following two sections. It is important to note that presenting the following positions is necessary as the presentations will help reveal the fault lines that arise in the land redistributions.

Values to Be Considered as Good In response to the first question, which values are considered good, Gyekye (2010) responds by saying that justice, equality, dignity, respect, human flourishing (happiness and satisfaction), recognition, and liberty among others are the expected goods that individuals expect to realize in their lives. In the Catholic religious tradition (which has a long history of grappling with defining and promoting the common good), the values to be considered as good include “the sum of those conditions of social life which allow social groups and their individual members relatively . . . ready access to their own fulfilment.” Basing on the ideas posed above, the goods that are considered to be of value, then, consist primarily of having social systems, institutions, and environments in which all members of society depend on and work in a manner that benefits them. Velasques et al. (1992) and Composta (2008: 162) further elucidate the discussion on goods to be considered when

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discussing the common good that is centered upon respecting freedoms and dignity of human beings and availing opportunities to all. The idea advanced here is that social, economic, and political conditions in which people operate determine how they benefit from social goods. These (social, economic, and political conditions) either enhance or distract individuals from realizing well-being. In saying this there is a sense in which values to be considered good imply or are centered on interactions or the communion of humans themselves and the institutions in which they operate in. The communion of humans in institutions and the world at large has a bearing on who decides on goods of value (this partly answers the second question). John Rawls (1971: 54) furthers the discussion by giving a more concise and precise argument on the question of what is to be valued in “common good” by arguing that social goods are key to achieving “common good.” The social goods that Rawls (1971: 55) refers to are expansive; they include political, social, and economic liberties. (These he has termed primary social goods.) These social goods have to be availed and accessed by all through the creation of equal opportunities for all and through the respect of rights and liberties (Rawls 1971: 53). For political liberty, Rawls (1971: 53) notes that the right to hold office and vote, freedom of speech, freedom of conscience, freedom of association and assembly, freedom to hold property, and freedom from arbitrary arrests and other psychological and physical torture, among others, are important. These liberties are essential and fundamental in ensuring social and economic freedom as well and for people to choose the kind of lives they want (Sen 1999). Implied here is that the government ought to set up institutions that promote and support human liberties and opportunities (Rawls 1971: 243–247). In this regard, the view advanced is that governments know the interests of people and act according to those interests. However, there are other scholars such as Sen (1999), Alkire (2010), and Crocker and Robeyns (2010) who disagree with Rawls’ viewpoint; they argue that it is the responsibility of the people to claim or even decide upon what they consider and design as the goods of value in their lives. I think their argument is valid based on the fact that in many instances where governments have been sorely granted the freedom to decide upon goods to be valued, most of the government goods of value have not always been for the benefit or promoting livelihoods of the ordinary people (this is particularly the case with African governments). Think of the causes of different forms of uprising against sitting governments as a result of the point just mentioned in some cases such as misappropriation of funds, misdirected priorities, corruption, marginalization of certain groups of people, and exclusion of opposition in decisionmaking. Such political practices result in decisions and practices that are partial systems. Following from the preceding paragraph, I now turn my attention to the second question of who really determines the common good.

Who Determines Common Good? The second question is as follows: who decides on what goods are to be considered as common? The stated question indirectly demands responses to address the role of governments and people in achieving common good in societies. There are two

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responses to this question. (a) The first one is that political leaders have a role to play in the attainment of common good. There has to be political willingness such that political institutions become conduits for common good. Political willingness ties in well with good governments and liberal democracy. (b) However, where there is a lack of good governance and lack of liberal democracy, illiberal democracy and/or authoritarian rule comes to the fore. Illiberal democracy is mostly authoritarian rule spiced by some semblance of democracy, such as participation in elections and having electoral bodies and parties. However, in most instances, there is no freedom in the participation of elections, there is arbitrary arrests and harassment of the opposition, and electoral bodies are heavily tilted in favor of the rulers (Masitera 2010). Furthermore, in illiberal democracies, there is heavy handedness of the leaders, and there is excessiveness of political leaders in decision-making, giving little or no room for ordinary citizen in decision-making for how they are to live. Such a position has its own weaknesses which I shall discuss. The second response is that the community or people are the agents of their own good. This perspective is mainly shared by human development theorists. In this piece of work, my bias is toward the latter. In the former response, it is important to note that there is a danger in giving “government” excessive duties that are not necessarily its own. In most instances, governments are supposed to implement and complement people in their endeavors to foster collective living. These ideas are extracted from the social contract thinking of Locke (2013) and Nozick (1974), among others. Essentially the philosophers posit that the duty of a government is to implement the desires of the people rather that making decisions on behalf of the people. If government makes decisions for people, there is a danger that the “government” may manipulate and exploit its own people for its own survival or decide what is not of interest to people. This position is epitomized by some African states which are authoritarian (Somalia, Sudan, and Zimbabwe are cases to consider). Among the characteristics of the authoritarian states is the failure to separate government and party business that is having no distinction between government and political parties governing. In some instances, the governing political party which forms the government as well does not make a distinction between the two. Ideally a political party represents interests of a group that is its supporters who adhere to its ideologies; yet a government represents and is responsible for all people of the state. In that sense, a government ought to be universal and inclusive in its decision-making and activities, that is, taking views from the whole community irrespective of their political affiliation, religion, racial, or social status, whereas a political party is particular, that is, it represents ideas of its own. A political party is not inclusive in the sense that if an individual does not share its ideology, he/she is excluded. Now in some African states, this distinction does not exist; a party gets into power and then implements its ideas without regard of those who do not belong to it. An example is the Zimbabwean scenario whereby decisions made by ZANU PF (Zimbabwe African National Union – Patriotic Front) politburo (party decision-making body) are transferred unilaterally to become government decisions and are implemented as if they are government decisions. Logically it follows that there is no impartiality in decision-making (since there is no

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participation of all people’s representatives especially the opposition party(ies) which represent the voice of the minority). The decisions of ZANU PF are not necessarily the interests of every Zimbabwean; in such a case, the decisions are mainly made to promote party interests hence exclusive in nature. An illiberal government is almost totalitarian in nature, and for this reason, there are chances that it may not fully promote common good, as exemplified in the foregoing discussion. Remember that according to the discussion on common good it was established that common good pertains to promoting the good for everyone and not limiting it to others while excluding others. With this in mind, the chances are that illiberal governments marginalize certain members of the state who do not necessarily share the government’s ideologies. This is the fault with having governments deciding on what may be considered as “good” for all. Interesting and connected to the above is that the debate about the claims of illiberal democratic systems and economic development vis-à-vis democratic systems and economic development is based on causal connections and not on statistics. General observation is that in democratic states, where friendlier economic policies (liberal democracy) exist such as openness to competition, investor-friendly and free market systems, and incentives for investment, economic growth is also noticeable. In addition to this, widened participation of people in government processes is also noticeable, as well as government accountability to its citizens. Whereas in illiberal or authoritarian governments the opposite exists, though in some cases such as China, Singapore, and South Korea economic growth has occurred, the same cannot be said of Somalia, Sudan, Zimbabwe, and North Korea. Citizens in the last category generally may not enjoy other freedoms and benefits that may accrue from economic growth. Benefits such as property security and participation in government processes are not experienced by these citizens as Sen (1999: 7) and Gisselquist (2012: 1–2) note. In saying this, democracy and economic development among other developments are linked (Gerring et al. 2011: 1735). On the other hand, the idea advanced is that common good should be driven by people rather than the government. This position has its own merits in that when common good is derived and formulated by the people, there are higher chances of inclusive participation. The participation will be based upon discussions and negotiations that people in society undertake in order to make a way forward on how to live together. When this is done, then common good can be said to promote inclusivity rather than being exclusive. Inclusive participation is important in societies in that it enhances the values of cohesion and the establishment of peace and harmony. According to Magness (1999: 23), The idea of inclusion is part and parcel of common good, and the idea supports the idea of not discriminating others resultantly and, inclusively, promotes justice and equality. On its own, inclusion point toward a kind of social life that is expected and that people desire to achieve. Yet to attain this desired kind of social life, there is a need to understand the role of the people. The interests and the goals of the people which will be considered as the common or community interests involve serious deliberations and reflections of the people themselves. When the society or its people are involved in assessing and reassessing of their common goal, then, according to Magness (1999: 23), common

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good is in a sense achieved. It is also important to mention that common good is a social outcome that is always expected and is a reflection of community interests. It is important to emphasize here that the areas that are to be considered as of common interest pertain to “goods that serve all members of a community and its institutions . . .” (Etzioni 2015: 1). Mostly this refers to the respect of people’s rights and liberties and at most offering them equal opportunities to realize their goals (this has to do with supporting systems that promote well-being of people especially provision of basic needs) (Rawls 1971: 55–56). Provision of these is essential and helps in the realization of the common good. Further reflection on this concept of inclusion, one cannot fail to recognize the close connection of common good and institutional setup and policies that institutions make. Institutions basically have to be good that is ready to serve the people; this is achievable in a democratic institution or where political will to listen and act according to the demands of the people exists. Inversely a democratic institution also promotes policies that are people focused. This interplay between the two (people and institutions) is very important in establishing and promoting common good. At the same time, policy development, as stated above, ought to be people focused inferring that the policy has to be people developed or people considerate. In this sense, consulting people on what is missing in their communities and how to better their situation becomes a priority. Magness (1999: 22) maintains that in addition to participation, there is a need for rational discussion in order to achieve the intended goals. The involvement of ordinary people in designing and planning their own common good means that the people become “agency” of their own lives. The term “agency” is being used in a twofold sense here. In Sen’s understanding, there are two ways of understanding this concept. In the first, agency refers to someone acting on someone’s behalf whose achievement will be assessed in the light of someone else (Sen 1999: 18–19). In the second understanding, it refers to someone who acts to bring about change and whose achievements are judged on the basis of their own values and objectives (Sen 1999: 19). The second understanding of the term is more relevant to this study, since it exposes the role of individuals in the process of bringing about change and achievement of common good through active participation (Masitera 2016). Agency implies agent, and agent is a person in action (Sen 1999: 18). By agency is meant humans, either acting individually or collectively, to bring about change through human effort and human value (Crocker and Robeyns 2010: 80; Alkire 2010: 196). Agency is driven by goals that have to be achieved to attain well-being (Ntibagirirwa 2014: 283). Implied in the understanding of agency are autonomy and action. The position stated here is that the concept of agency is central to assessing the states and actions of people. In relation to this, Sen avers that agency is a group or individual who act toward a value. More explicitly, Sen (1985: 235) says agency relates to “what a person is free to do and achieve in pursuit of whatever goals or values he or she regards as important.” Additionally, he considers that agency(ies) are agents of change or are deeply concerned with social transformation (Sen 1985: 169). As such agency(ies) are self-determining, they have the capacity for self-achieving and are self-regarding, yet in some

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instances, they (agency) need to collaborate with others in order to achieve their goals (Alkire 2010: 196; Crocker and Robeyns 2010: 75–77, 81). The concept of agency denotes that individuals or groups are morally responsible for improving the quality of their lives, meaning that humans as agents of change either advance or hinder change through their activities. People as agents are instrumental in shaping the kind of world they expect to live in, and ultimately, they are valued to the extent that they realize their goals (Masitera 2016). Furthermore, there is a symbiotic relationship between human agency and social arrangements, so much so that social, economic, and/or political arrangements have a bearing on individual freedom to act and achieve. In most cases however, defective arrangements curtail individual freedom. In such circumstances, Sen (1999: xvi–xvii, 191) and Alkire (2010: 207) agree in saying that humans are agents of their own freedom by being actively involved in removing iniquities and deprivation. This can be done by choosing to act in one way or the other (Sen 1999: 190). In addition, actions are better accomplished in groups as cooperating with others enables one to achieve a higher standard of living than when acting separately (Alkire 2010: 207). To this end, the argument is supported by the fact that there is empirical evidence to this effect, for example, gender activists have been able to achieve more by acting in cooperation, and this is also the case with some affirmative action groups. The fact of cooperating with others brings to the fore the argument already advanced, namely, that individual agency can equally well be expressed in a group (Masitera 2016). In line with this is the fact that group activities enable public action and participation which for Sen and other CA advocates is one of the key pillars to achieving goals and interests in a democratic way. Public participation and action are a further proof of the fact that individuals are not only self-interested but are at the same time interested in others’ well-being. It also shows that individuals are contributors to common good, social choices, and value judgments in general. From the foregoing discussion, it is necessary to point out that common good is a concern of the people and is implemented through institutional arrangements that respond to the interests, needs, and desires of the people. Analyzing the Zimbabwean land redistributions on the bases of common good and agency reveals that the opposite to the expectation occurred. First, the idea of common good was confined to a group of people and not the whole society, in that only the interests of a group (mostly ZANU PF sympathizers and some landless individuals) constituted what was considered as interested, and supporting the land redistribution, the idea and actual redistribution were not inclusive as it did not consider interests of white farmers and other blacks not sharing ZANU PF ideology. Second, the common good was construed as constituted of land appropriation and bettering the economic livelihood thereof for the blacks and not the consequences the redistribution would have on the country socially and economically. Third, the land redistribution impinged negatively on the “agency” of a certain group of people within the Zimbabwean society resultantly questions and conclusions that relate to exclusion, racism, and the creation of the other emanated. Discussion on this is elaborated on the following section.

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The “Othering” from Land Redistribution: Social Injustice and the Results of Thingifying In this section of my chapter, I make a deep reflection of the Zimbabwean land redistribution by showing how it produced the idea of the “other.” In my reflection I contend that “othering” is a process of reinforcing and reproducing positions of domination and subordinating others considered as different (Johnson et al. 2004: 253). In my presentation I note that othering was caused by the mentality and orientation that aimed at thingifying individuals of a different race and ideology with the intention of elevating one race or ideology and constructing a skewed society tilted in favor of group, mostly blacks. In my argument, I maintain that by embarking on land redistribution, the Zimbabwean government attempted to construct an identity based on race and ZANU PF ideology supported by misconstrued arguments twisted in favor of a group of people (blacks). Apart from arguments there was a deliberate attempt at creating a state that pays a blind eye and ear toward the former colonizers or those who oppose ZANU PF thinking. I further contend that the “othering” was covertly constructed on structural and/or systematic injustices. Among the injustices that will be discussed are social, economic, and political injustices that are deeply embedded in the process of decolonization and also hidden under the disguise of common good advanced through repossession of land. Mostly this was veiled under the guise of empowering blacks, which is a way of advancing and bettering their conditions of living. I now show the process of “othering” through analyzing the idea of structural injustice.

Structural Injustice and Othering Structural injustice pertains to multiple authoritative agents’ biased actions and how they consider, decide, and respond to a situation (Alkire 2008: 1). Young (2006: 1) and Alkire (2008: 1) opine that structural injustice refers to the limited access that individuals or group of people have to amenities necessary for human living. Definitively on one hand, Young (2006: 2) avers that structural injustice is insufficient access to amenities; on the other hand, Alkire (2008: 1–2) asserts that structural injustice is a deprivation of necessities of life. The difference between the two scholars is only a matter of semantics; they both refer to the same that is structural injustice is a lack of minimum well-being. They reflect that the injustice they are discussing is a result of a system and/or a social process that in most cases produce and reproduce inequalities (Young 2006: 3). It is from this understanding that Young also refers to structural injustice as systemic injustice. Both structural and systemic injustice refers and includes rules and the use of resources in conditions in which different actors find themselves in. In most cases the system or structure is such that it produces results or actions that favor while disadvantaging others. Following from the indicative term “injustice,” it is appropriate to mention that the structure intents to produce systems that are unfair or biased.

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Furthering the discussion on structural injustice, Eriksen (2017: 1) propounds through description that structural injustice is a form of discrimination and exploitation as it impinges and infringes on the fundamental rights of people. Eriksen’s perspective advocates that bias, inequality, and marginalization are embedded in systems that are unjust. In the same vein of thinking, structural injustice thus causes suffering of others while promoting the interest of others. Alkire (2008: 2) succinctly summarizes this point by positing that: social injustice . . . arises when institutions are designed to take into account and further some set of interests but are not designed to take into account other interests that they harm, certain capabilities that they cause to contract, or opportunity costs that their operations entail.

Reflections on the just stated, there is therefore a sense in which hierarchies and binary oppositions (them and us, powerful versus the powerless, advantaged versus disadvantaged, rich versus poor, the wanted and the unwanted) are produced. In addition, when favoritism exists, there are high chances of abuse and disregard of those who are not within the favored category. When a social system is skewed, more often the unflavored are confronted by dehumanizing situations. Dehumanizing situations cause reduced dignity, disregard, marginalization, exclusion, and manipulation. Those who are in such dehumanizing situations are in some cases considered as unwanted and things or items of derision (thingification or “other”). The humanness in such individuals is derided to such an extent that they are viewed as half humans or not at all. The dehumanizing situations further manifest themselves in the form of oppression and suppression of those considered as the unwanted. In the view of Johnson et al. (2004: 254), the thingification as discussed above creates a social system that formulates a new identity and new culture and reinforces differences; this is the case with both the favored and the non-favored. When such a scenario exists, divisions within the society erupt, and often the divisions are hostile and cause disharmony (this for me is a creation of a new society that departs from multicultural and multiracial societies which characterize modern societies and states). In societies where divisions exist, marginalization is rife; marginalization causes decreased opportunities and exclusion for the marginalized. The marginalized (the other) increasingly finds it difficult to find a place in the “new society” and realizes that different opportunities are a reserve of the favored. Relating this just stated point to the discussion that has been done on “decolonization” and “common good” – thingification relates to neglecting or ignoring interests of a group – in saying this it means that thingification neglects the ideals of recognition and respect of “all” despite racial, religious, and social standing. Thingification is the opposite of what “common good” values and obligates societies to respect; thingification further hinders individual development and growth in that it hinders individual freedoms and is built upon social systems and institutions that impinge on well-being (Rawls 1971: 55; Composta 2008: 162). Importantly thingification implies disregard of “other” people’s views; indirectly this means oppressing those whose views are not considered. The presence of oppression

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in a society denotes establishment and re-establishment of systems that holds people on bondage. In other words, a bondage enslaves people, limits their freedom to participate in different facets of human living, and at most causes economic, political, and social suffering. An enslaving social system is a way of reenacting and re-establishing non-emancipatory practice. Once this is the case, it follows that decolonization as a process that postcolonial African states attempted to establish had failed. In essence decolonization is a process of liberating both the former oppressor and oppressed (Freire 2005: 2012); in the case where oppression is re-established, it means continuation of oppression though there is the change of roles whereby former oppressors become the oppressed and the former oppressed become oppressors (Fanon 1956). The failure to construct a society that emancipates all is at once a failure at redefining and reshaping an authentic postcolonial African state as Thiong’o (2004) and Prinsloo (2016) would have envisioned in the decolonial process. To add on to this argument, Mamwelo (2011) also argued that authentic liberation is the repositioning of Africa in a multicultural society that learns from its history and that is fabricated around the concept of respect of human rights and rule of law being applied impartially in society. All this is disregarded in a society that thingifies some of its members. The idea of thingifying was rampant in the Zimbabwean land redistribution as will be shown below.

Land Redistributions: The Case of Zimbabwe In former colonial states, people were grouped according to race and ethnicity, and resultantly each group was allotted liberties and opportunities differently (this was a way of separating people and thingifying them). There were those favored who received full opportunities and liberties (whites), while for others they had these limited (blacks). The same system raises its head in contemporary societies, through reverse oppression that seeks revenge for the colonial experiences suffered by blacks; alas in the contemporary period, the process of doing so is referred to as empowerment of the formerly oppressed. Paradoxically, the same societies that embark on reverse oppression are the once that clamor and claim to be in support of human rights. The practice of human rights is paramount in promoting multiculturalism and is a foundation for promoting well-being of all in society. I therefore posit that in the context of the Zimbabwean land redistribution as a system that has produced binary oppositions which could otherwise be avoided. My argument is that structural injustice that came into being during the Zimbabwean land redistribution has reinforced the ideas of exclusion, social disharmony, social dislocation, marginalization, and differences based on race, political, and economic interests. During the fast-track land redistribution, rights and liberties of the white population were overlooked through legislatures (Zimbabwean) Constitutional Amendment # 16 (2000) and 17 (2005) that expropriated their lands without giving them any compensation and with no possibility of appeal for the violence, arbitrary arrests and detentions, and murders committed against them. In addition, there was no

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prosecution of offenders who committed crimes on white farmers and their workers. Implicitly, this limited the social, economic, and political participation of the white population (Moyo 2005: 2; Sachikonye 2012: 227). The expropriation of farms and forced removals of the white populations on farms that were to be reallocated to black farmers meant that ownership rights on the part of whites were abrogated, while affirmative action was being implemented for blacks. There was no initiation on the part of the government to relocate or resettle the displaced white communities. Naturally the displacement and loss of rights contributed to social dislocation and exclusion for the displaced; they at the same time became the unrecognized and the unwanted in the Zimbabwean society. The mentioned are forms of exclusion. What is apparent here is that there was marginalization and exclusion of the white population from the Zimbabwean political, social, and economic live. The whites were now considered as the “other,” that is, people who do not fit in the Zimbabwean system largely because of historical circumstances, color/race, and of economic status. Whites were eventually pushed to the fringes of society, that is, being considered as “less” humans because they were no longer accorded the same status as fellow black citizens (form of thingification). During and after the post land redistribution periods, blacks were accorded all liberties and rights that are due to citizens, whereas the same was not accorded to whites. Exclusion and marginalization in this case were designed to become an outcome of the land redistribution. The Zimbabwean government system was such that it eliminates whites systematically from the social, political, and economic lives through legal means and political, social, and economic means of exclusion such as disempowerment. The disempowerment included abrogation of ownership rights, political alienation whereby parties connected to them are targeted against, stripping of citizenship (for whites), and having no social support to participate in different facets of their communities (social dislocation). When exclusion and/or marginalism abound, individual freedom or group freedom is hindered (Lӧtter 2008: 19; Chavez 2015: 21), thus contributing much to thingification of people. More importantly interactions with others are limited and even none existent; in that sense then the exclusion from the political, economic, and social participation is increased. In relation to the idea of freedom and contributing meaningfully to the construction of one’s society, it is prudent to argue that the agency of white peoples was hindered. More importantly a hindered political, social, and economic life means inability to achieve well-being, self-sufficiency, self-respect, self-satisfaction, selfworth, and community connections. It cannot be doubted that such a kind of live is a root cause of degraded living conditions characterized by lack of or insufficient income, housing, health, and community integration as is the case with those former white farmers and their farm workers after land redistributions. The failure to exercise control over one’s life has resulted in destitution and much reduced participation in economic, social, and political life for former white farmers and their former farm workers (Mlambo and Chitando 2015: 15–16). Closely connected to the foregoing point is that where exclusion and marginalization exist, common good as a

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concept is not realized. Or it can be said that common good is partial since it is only construed in the conception of a fraction of the society.

Ending Thingification: The Importance of Democracy My argument in this section is that democracy is necessary in promoting human well-being and establishing a well-functioning society as Glassman and Patton (2014: 1353) have observed. Furthermore, democracy is important in promoting participation of the citizens, recognition, and respect for individual reasoning and argument, pluralism, and accountability. Noteworthy though is that a single and universally agreed definition of democracy is elusive although recognizing it in action is not. Democracy is a complex system of governance that has to reconcile competing claims; but it is noteworthy that it is not simply majority rule (Sen 1999: 10) but a system that holds government responsible, accountable, and responsive to its citizens (Sen 1999: 11; Glassman and Patton 2014: 1353). To limit democracy to majority rule is to simply appeal to the mechanical condition of “part” of the expectations of democracy in practice. Appealing to majority rule is tantamount to creating partial policies and practices which are exclusive in nature especially of the minority. As a complex system of expectations, democracy involves participation, expression, and support for citizens’ views so that they form values and priorities both individually and as a group (Sen 1999: 10–11; Nussbaum 2000: 103). Furthermore, the participation and expression of the citizens’ will and government compliance conform to the idea that government should be accountable, responsive, and responsible to its citizens. In short democracy is an open system that aims at advancing people’s freedoms, be it social, political, and economic, and is achievable through the promulgation of policies that are people-oriented (Sen 1999: 8). Democracy promotes social, economic, and political security while enhancing the individuals’ capacity to choose their own ways of life according to their own values. Democracy thus has a major role to play, especially in promoting people-oriented policies that people consider to be of value to the people. Democracy is a peopleoriented system which promotes different facets of human existence and well-being which include, among others, economic, political, and social liberties by enabling people to lead lives of their choice. The well-being of the individual leads in turn to the common good and well-being of the whole community. The process of Zimbabwean land redistribution was the direct opposite of democratic principles in particular and a denial of rights and related liberties. Policies related to land redistribution were mostly driven by political leadership because they had the political power and influence to do so. The freedom to debate and participate on the part of the citizenry (note the participation of whites was abrogated) was suppressed. Explicitly, Zimbabwean land redistribution policies promoted a system that hindered people’s participation in the life of their community and caused exclusion and marginalization.

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My argument is that land redistribution ought to be the spaces through which people should be in control of their lives. That is, individuals should be given a chance to determine their own lives by being granted the own decisions – politically, socially, and economically. In my own thinking then, individual freedom is about individual empowerment whereby institutions and policies are tilted in support of the people. Having choices is one of the ways through which self-confidence is built and bolstered, while at the same time, having autonomous alternatives also enhances responsibility for their lives and those of their communities or enhancing plural existence. In the same light, land redistribution should be a way to promote individual freedom. Freedom in this sense, political, social, and economic, need not be limited or granted to certain groups and denied to others but should be granted to all. The attainment of freedom is both an individual effort as is the case with the concept of agency (Sen 1999: 18–19) and a government initiative as Nussbaum (2000: 104) would argue. The government has to account for setting conditions that are acceptable to all. Democracy is both a process that people bring about and the governments implement for the benefit of its citizenry. In this sense democracy as an approach in addressing thingification eliminates social dislocation through citizens’ engagement in deciding how they want to live. When this happens there are possibilities of societies resolving problems through citizenry participation thereby contributing as well to realizing peace and harmony.

Conclusion In this chapter I examined land redistribution as a process of emancipation. In my endeavors, I examined two concepts that are linked to the process of liberation; these are “decolonization” and “common good.” My analysis of the terms revealed that ideally the two concepts advocate for the elimination of oppression in its various facets. Decolonization argues for liberation of both the oppressor and oppressed through a process of engagement, while common good advocates for the construction of a community that considers the interest of all through social, political, and economic arrangements that benefit members of the community. I also presented the argument that posits that the Zimbabwean land redistribution was in line with the expectations of the “decolonization” and “common good.” I however argued that the actual implementation disadvantaging the white farming populations. In presenting this position, I note the covert process through which the disadvantaging occurred and the process of black empowerment which established systematic marginalization and exclusion, among others. Marginalization and exclusion are some of the ways through which land redistribution has been used in the process of thingifying people of the white race. Toward the end of the chapter, I propose a way through which land redistribution should and could have been done. My proposal is engagement in a democratic way. The proposal realizes that through rational discussions and reaching informed conclusions, there are chances of maintaining peace and harmony while at the same time promoting individual agency in an environment of plural existence.

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Index

A Ableism, see Disability Aesthetics, 206, 207, 214 Affiliated otherness, 514 Africa cultural alterity, 174 decolonization, 183 modernity (see Modernity) recaptives, 184 underdevelopment, 182 Western education system, 186 with West, 173, 175, 187 African alterity, 156 Africana philosophy, Hermeneutical Tradition in, 77 African arts African cultures, signs and symbols in, 206–207 institutionalization of difference, with signs and symbols, 207–211 names, 211–214 African communalism, and otherness, 265–268 African communitarian theory (ACT), 266, 267, 269 African community, 246, 247, 252 African culture, 109 African epistemology consistency of knowledge claims, 365 elite class and approach to disability, 369 elitist epistemology, 401–403 first-hand information, 364 knowledge acquisition, 403–405 naturalized epistemology, 399–401 second-hand information, 364 set of beliefs, 366 shared knowledge, 367, 367 traditional elite class, 368, 369 Yoruba Moral Epistemology, 364

African ethics recent debate on animals in, 335–336 theories, 335 African experience, 307–308 African Gnosis, 130 African men vs. African women, 251–252 African modal-relational moral theory, 334 African philosophy, 16, 17, 75 conceptualizing difference, 3–4 disability, gender and non-human, 8–9 issues of difference, 6–8 Nigeria, 10 in South Africa, 10 traditions, 17 whites-blacks difference, 4–6 in Zimbabwe, 11 African philosophy of difference, 25 African accounts of difference, 22–25 axiological/moral questions, 28–29 conceptualising difference, 18–22 epistemological questions, 27–28 ontological questions, 25–27 African spaces, 416, 420, 421, 427 African stranger, 421, 422, 423 African Subsaharan ethics, 336 African theory of knowledge, 364 African traditions, language and conceptualisation of, 324–328 Africa’s difference in cultural history, 130–147 Mudimbe’s archaeological reading of, 142–144 Mudimbe’s recuperation of, 144–147 in Sixteenth Century European Culture, 132–135 Africa’s identity, Mudimbe’s recuperation of, 144–147 Afrocentricity, see Afrocentrism

© Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2020 E. Imafidon (ed.), Handbook of African Philosophy of Difference, Handbooks in Philosophy, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-14835-5

545

546 Afrocentrism, 5, 73, 79, 80, 251 Afro-communal ethic believing, 38 communion, 38–42 homosexuality, 37 issues, 47–49 legal coercion, 42–44 perceived obligation, 47 public representatives and state coercion, 37 social pressure, 37, 46–47 sources of incompatibility with difference, 33–37 unequal opportunities, 44–46 ways to suppress difference, 37–38 Albinism, 9, 246, 247, 363, 365, 366, 367, 368, 372, 373 melanin-privileged Africans vs. Africans with, 248–249 Allies, 231 Alterity, 2, 3, 4, 10, 165 colonial African conception of, 155–157 pre-colonial conception of, 152–155 western ontology of, 157 Althusser, Louis, 260 Ancient Egyptians, philosophical system, 83–89, 87–89 human nature and immortality, 86–87 mathematics and logic, 83, 84 science and metaphysics, 84–87 Ancient Egyptians, White/Black, 97–101 Ancient Greeks, Egyptian philosophical influence in, 91–94 Animals moral consideration of, 340–342 moral status of, 339–340 Anthropocentrism, 342–343 Anti-black racism, 57, 77, 78 Anti-Semite, 494 Apartheid, 206, 262, 263, 295 Aristotle, 91, 194, 280, 286 Ascription, 424 Autonomy, 352

B Bad epistemic practice, 374, 376 Barbara Thayer-Bacon, 219 Belongingness, 421, 422, 426, 427, 428 Benevolent racist, 60 Benin art, 207 Biafran War, 327 Biko, Steve, 112, 117, 283

Index Black African hypothesis, 83 Black Consciousness, 496, 498 Black hypothesis, 5, 74, 82–101 Blackness, creation of, 160–161 Black persons vs. white privileged persons, 249–251 Black Philosopher, 74–75 Black thought and difference, 161–162 Blum, Lawrence, 58 Boko Haram terrorism, 295

C Cahoone, Lawrence, 260 Calabar, 434, 437, 439, 445 Carol Morgaine, 223 Cartesianism, 194 Cartesian theory of representation, 196–198 Césaire, Aimé, 110 Class identity, 470 Coalition, 506 Coconuts, 482 Cognitive incapacity, 60 Colonial African conception of alterity, 155–157 Colonial African experience and verbicide, 311 Colonial context, 156 Colonialism, 115, 283 Colonisation, 107–112, 160 Common good definition, 530 driven by people, 534–536 duty of government, 533–534 values, 531–532 Communitarian, 387 Confucian tradition, 49 Conscientization, 504, 505 coalition, 506 integration, 507 Contempt, 119–120 Continental philosophy, 22 Conversational philosophy, 443–445 Conversation with Zulu stranger, 515–516 Cosmopolitanism, 79, 480 Crenshaw, Kimberié, 260 Critical theory critical theory of self-formation, 223 domination and stimulating work, 222 Morgaine perspective, 223–225 multiculturalism, 222 Cultural capital, 470 Culturally responsive teaching, 230

Index

547

Cultural time zones (CTZs) frontier migrants, 483 global, 479, 481 language functions, 477 local, 478, 480 migrant experience, 484–486 theory, 470 transnational, 481 types of, 470 Custodians, 369

epistemic injustice (see Epistemic injustice) ideology, 395 knowledge and cognition process, 397–399 naturalized African epistemology, 399–401 persons with albinism, 395 victims of biomedical conditions, 397 Discrimination, 58 Disempowerment, 540 Disidentification, 440 D’Souza, Dinesh, 58

D Dakar Address, 107 Decentering, 233 Decolonization, 5, 107 as overcoming violence, 113 process, 527, 528–530 of west, 112–113, 121–124 Dehumanising situations, 538 Deliberate ignorance, 372 Democracy, 541–542 De-othering, 435, 443–445 Descartes, Rene, 196, 197 Desuperiorization, 121–124 Diaspora, 319, 322, 324, 328 Difference, 206, 207–211, 214, 302, 371, 372, 426, 427 African colonial experience, pragmatic othering of, 310–314 and African Otherness, 308–310 the one and the other, 304–307 Differentiated self, 424 Dignity, 267 Disability, 383 in Africa, 385–387 children, 388 communitarianism as theory vs. communitarian conceptions, 387 discriminatory theory, 388 ideology of ability, 384 intersectionality, 389–390 SCD, 384 social prejudice, 387 theorisation of personhood, 388 theory is just a theory, 387 theory of personhood, 384 unAfrican, 385 Western concept, 384, 385 Disability and queerness in African cultures communalism, 403–405 vs.discrimination, 396 elitist epistemology, 401–403

E Earned self worth, 248 Egyptian(s) from ancient, modern, or contemporary scholars, 94–97 philosophical ideas, 89–91 philosophical influence, in ancient Greeks, 91–94 Elative ethics, 121–124 Elitist virtue epistemology, 363, 368 Emancipation process, 529 Emi, 243 Empiricism, 196 Enslaving social system, 539 Epistemic injustice communal epistemology, 407 elders in African communities, 407 Elitist epistemology, 406 instructive, 405 knowledge and cognition, 406 perceptions and social attitudes, 406 testimonial and hermeneutical injustice, 405 Epistemology of difference in Africa, 27, 426–428 Hegel, G.W.F., 201–202 Epistemology of ignorance agnotology, 370 deliberate systemic ignorance, 372 light and darkness, 370 Race and Epistemologies of Ignorance, 370 substantive practices of ignorance, 371 systemic type of ignorance, 371 traditional approach, 371 Ethnic nationalities, 277 Eurocentric(s), 82 racism, 75 thinkers, 75 Eurocentrism, 5, 73, 77, 131 African-American Philosophers Way, 77–78 Appiah Way, 78–79 Gail Presbey Way, 80–81

548 Eurocentrism (cont.) George James Way, 81–82 Kofi’s Way, 82–101 Molefi Kete Asante Way, 79–80 Wiredu Way, 78 European alterity, 156 European-American tradition, 336 European culture, Africa’s difference in Sixteenth Century, 132–135 Exclusion, 538, 540, 541 Exclusionary theories and practices, 389 Exclusivism ibuanyidanda/complementary ontology, 278–285 social-self, 275–278 Existentiality, 122 Extrinsic racism, 58, 60

F Facticity, 122, 123 Fanon, Frantz, 110, 119 Fletcher, George, 68 Forced anachronism, 114 Forced obscurity, 114–116 Foucault’s archaeology documentation, 138–139 methodology, 131 of Sixteenth Century Culture, 139–141 Foucault’s model, limits of, 136–138 Frontier migration, 467, 470

G Gay sexual behaviour, 37 Genealogy as critique, 450–452 as cure, 460–461 Geneva Gay, 222 Global cultural capital, 481 Globalization, 269 Good, 531

H Habermas, Jurgen, 194 Hegel, G.W.F., 201–202 Hermeneutical Tradition in Africana philosophy, 77 Historico-critical analysis, 452 Homophobia, 35 Hopeful gaze, 219–221

Index Hospitality, 296–298 H. Richard Milner IV, 231 Hume, David, 308 Hutu-Tutsi othering, 291

I Ideology of ability, 384 Illiberal democracy, 533 Inferiority, 114, 120, 123 Inscription, 424 Intelligence, 381, 382 Intercourse, 195, 202–203 Interpellation, 260 Intersectionality, 260 Intersectional theory, 389 Intolerance, 67, 68 Intolerant racism, 64 Intrinsic racism, 58, 61 Intrinsic worth, 240, 241, 245, 246, 247, 248 Islamic fundamentalism, 264 Issakaba, 434, 437–439

J Jung, Carl Gustav, 209 Justice, 256, 261, 265, 269, 270

K Kagame’s conceptualisation of personhood, see Personhood Kagame’s theory, 9 Horsthemke, Kai, 218 Kant, Immanuel, 201, 225, 309 Kant’s universal moral theory, 450

L Lacan, Jacques, 260 Lacan’s interpretation, 454 Land redistribution case of Zimbabwe, 539–541 common good (see Common good) decolonization, 528–530 definition, 527 democracy, 541–542 mere debates and actual implementation, 528 othering, 537–539 structural injustice, 537–539

Index Land reform, 527 Language, 318, 319 in African Contexts, 317–328 and conceptualisation, 324–328 and forming of relations, 322–324 and friend in African Place, 321–322 and stranger in African Place, 320–321 Levinas, Emmanuel, 259 Levy-Bruhl, Lucien, 310 Liberal morality, 64, 65 Linguistic cultural capital, 477–478 Local government areas (LGAs), 294 Locke, John, 198–201 Lutz, David, 266

M Marginalization, 538, 540 Master-slave dialectic, 491 Maxine Greene, 219 Melanin-privileged Africans, 241 vs. Africans with Albinism, 248–249 Metaphysics, 18, 149, 280 of difference, 163 of modernity, 151 pre-colonial African societies, 152 of Western modernity, 159 Metz’s moral theory, 334, 342 Metz’s theory, 342 Middle-class migrants, 466 Migration, 470 Moderate communitarianism (MC), 267, 268 Modernity, 173, 175, 176, 185, 187 Moral blameworthiness, 357 Moral good, 513–515, 516, 517, 521 Moral modal-relationism, 339–340 Moral status of animals, 339–340 conception of, 337–338 Moral universality, 513, 515 Morris, Charles, 209 Mother, 517, 518 Mudimbe’s archaeology, 130, 133, 134 of Africa’s difference, 142–144 Mudimbe’s recuperation of Africa’s identity and difference, 144–147 Multiculturalism, 228 conservative multiculturalists, 228 critical multiculturalism, 228 left-essentialist multiculturalism, 228

549 liberal multiculturalists, 228 multicultural education, 229 pluralistic multiculturalists, 228 Mutual recognition, 491–492 Mzansi, 451

N Negritude, 495 Neurosenwahl, 459 Nigerian Armed Forces, 294 Nigerian Civil War, 327 Nigerian communities, 241 Nigeria policy, 293

O Okere, Theophilus, 283 Ontology, 21, 26 of difference, 20, 25, 26, 26, 152–157 postcolonial universal, 162–169 Opolo, 243 Orientalism, 259 Osu caste system, 291–293 Other(s), 423–426 Deuteronomy, 521 facing, 519 fear and trembling, 519 like self, 517–518 misguided self-transcendence, 518 monumental task, 520 moral good, 521 radical transformation, 521 self-analysis and deconstruction, 520–521 self-love and self-transcendence, 519 Othered, 423–426 Othering, 23, 24, 25, 61, 257–261, 423, 424, 425, 426, 537 and African communalism, 266–268 in African contexts, 317–328 challenge of, 435–437 Christian-Muslim relations, in Northern Nigeria, 263–265 definition, 261, 434 epistemology of difference, 426–428 and human peaceful co-existence, 261 and justice, 265 non-violent form of, 6 xenophobia, in South Africa, 261–263 Otherness, 513, 517, 519, 521, 522

550 P Paganism, 313, 314 Pan-African nationalism, 277 Paulo Freire, 229 Personal preparation, 226 Personal racism, 60, 61 Personhood, 9, 34, 348, 353–356 death, 381 disability, 383 divergent views, 382 existence of intelligence, 381 gender stereotyping of, 251 heart, 382 ibintu, 383 intelligence, 382 internal faculties, 381 intrinsic worth and resulting rights, 241–246 muntu, 380 severe cognitive disabilities, 383 shadow thesis, 381, 382 Person-making capacities, 349, 354 Persons living with albinism (PWAs) in Nigeria, 396 in South Africa, 396 Persons with albinism (PWAs), 373, 374, 376 Philips, Michael, 58 Philosophy of education, 219 Plato, 195, 305 Pluralism, 220, 221 Political leaders, 533 Positionality, 225 epistemological orientation, 228 identity development, 227 Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason, 225 transformative process, 226 Postcolonial universal ontology, 162–169 Pragmatics, 302, 303 African colonial experience, othering of, 310–314 as pragmatricks, 304 Praiseworthiness, 357 Pre-colonial social ontology, 155 Predicament, 172, 176, 179, 180, 185 Preshey’s response, 5 Procedural uniqueness, 350 Promise, 504–508 Psycho-social investment, 73 Psycho-social theory, 73 Public imagination, 500–504 Pure recognition, 507 Pursuing rights, self-worth and, 246–248 Pythagoras theorem, 84, 90

Index R Race, 157 and difference, 158–162 logic of, 158–160 Racial capitalism, 468 Racialism, 58 Racial segregation, 206 Racism, 56, 78, 80–81 extrinsic, 58, 60 intrinsic, 58, 61 paradigm case, 58 personal, 60, 61 primary sense, 59, 60, 60 secondary sense, 59 social institutions, 60 tolerance, 62–69 Racist violence, 467 Radical communitarianism, 267, 268 Radical differences, 176, 186–188 Rationalism, 196 Rationality, 349, 351, 352, 355, 356 Rawls, John, 265 Reform, 527 Re-othering, 439–443 Reparation, 167 Representation, 195–196 Cartesian theory of, 196–198 Lockean theory of, 198–201 Rights advocacy, 249 Rothenberg, Paula, 59 Rwandan genocide, 291

S Said, Edward, 259 Sarkozy, NiKolas, 107, 109, 116 Self, 423, 424, 425, 519, 520, 522 Self-conception, 424, 425 Self-love, 518, 521 Self-reflection, 115 Self-transcendence, 519, 521 Self-worth and pursung rights, 246–248 Severe cognitive disabilities (SCD), 383 Shadow, 381, 386 Signs and symbols in African cultures, 206–207 institutionalization of difference with, 207–211 Similitude, 135, 136, 140, 141 Situational sensitivity, 232 Sixteenth century culture, anthropological critique of, 135–136

Index Skolombo, 438 life expectancy, 438 re-othering, 439–443 Social change, 173, 185 Social goods, 532 Social institutions, 60 Socialization, 354 Social ontology, 274 pre-colonial, 155 social events and processes, 274 social facts, 274 social objects, 274 Social-self, 275–278, 281 Socio-cultural phenomenon, 319 Socrates, 90–91, 194 Sokoto Caliphate, 264 Sonia Nieto, 226 Space, 469, 470 Spivak, Gayari C., 259, 260 Strangeness, see Stranger Stranger in African societies, 420–423 contemporary social theory, 419 definition, 416 displaced identity, 416 geographical context, 416 in human geography, 419 marginal man, 417 postmodernism, 419 revisionist literature, 418 socially deviant behaviours, 418 social status, 417 socio-cultural context, 416 synonyms, 416 Structural injustice, 537–539 Subject-object dichotomy, 7, 195 Sub-Saharan African ethics, 336, 339 Suffering of others, in African communities Boko Haram experience, 293 ethnic and tribal difference, 296 hospitality and moral duty, 296–298 Osu caste system, 291–293 xenophobia, 294, 294 Superiority, 119–120 Swart gevaar, 500 Systemic type of ignorance, 371 T Teleological progression, 451 The one and the other, 304–307 Thingification, 538 Thought, dangerous, 120

551 Thought-provoking analysis, 10 Threat, 491–500 Tolerance moral value of, 65–69 racial differences, 62–65 racism, 60, 64 Tolerator, 5 Trade-off situations, 340–342 Traditional epistemology, 371 Trans-Atlantic slave trade, 57 Transcendence, 518 Traumdeutung, 452–456 signs of trauma, 457–459 U Ubuntu, 36 Uniqueness moral accountability and, 356–357 of women, 357–359 V Valorization strategy, 441 W Waghid, Yusef, 218 Well-being, 530, 532, 535, 536, 537, 538, 539, 541 West, 173, 176, 179, 182, 184, 187 decolonization, 121–124 Western culture, 112, 136 Western decolonization, 112–113, 113 Western ontology of alterity, 157 Western thinking, 107, 115, 121 Westphal, K.R., 202 White extrinsic racism, 60 White privileged persons vs. Black persons, 249–251 White racists, 66, 67, 68, 69 Wilful ignorance, 372 Women as morally deficient beings, 351–353 uniqueness of, 357–359 Working-class migrants, 466, 469, 484 X Xenophilia, 467, 468, 470, 471, 484 Xenophobia, 257, 261–263, 268, 291, 294, 295, 324, 326, 328 African working-class migrants, 473 attitudes and violence, 468 Bourdieu’s cultural capital, 474

552 Xenophobia (cont.) cultural capital, 472 frontier migrants, 473 immigrants, 473 linguistic cultural capital, 477–478 racial and spatial dynamics, 472 sentiment, 468 skin color, 474–477 as socio-spatial phenomenon, 471–472 Xenophobic persecution mania, 457

Index Y Yoruba people, 242 Z Zimbabwean land redistribution, 539–541